“Have you been thinking about what I’d like to do?” she said.
“I’ve been trying,” he said, “but I can’t think of anything special.”
“Shall I tell you?”
“Yes.”
“I’d like to buy a bottle of wine and go to your room.”
“At Mrs. Murphy’s?”
“Yes. It seems to me we ought to have a celebration to begin the holiday, and I’d like to go there and have it.”
“We’d have to be careful Mrs. Murphy didn’t see us. She’s deaf, though. We could probably slip in.”
“It would be fun. Don’t you think so? Will you take me?”
They went to a package store for the bottle of wine. Henry was afraid the clerk might embarrass him by asking him his age, and he was prepared to lie if necessary, of course, but the clerk apparently thought that he was old enough, or did not care if he was old enough or not. He was not familiar with wines, moreover, and hadn’t the least idea of what would be the best kind to buy.
“What kind would you like?” he said to Mandy.
“Dark port would be nice,” she said. “It’s not so dry as some of the others, and besides, it’s stronger than most of them.”
“You mean it has more alcohol in it?”
“Yes. Port has around twenty percent and most of the dry wines have only twelve or fourteen.”
“That’s a good thing to know. I’ll remember that.”
“Oh yes. Port is six or eight percent stronger.”
“A bottle of dark port, please,” Henry said to the clerk.
“I’d like to suggest a New York wine, if you don’t mind,” Mandy said. “It may be only imagination on my part, but it always seems to me that New York wines are better.”
“A bottle of dark port from New York,” Henry said to the clerk.
The clerk put a bottle of Taylor’s dark port in a brown paper sack, and Henry paid for it. He was surprised to discover that it was so cheap. He had somehow expected a bottle of wine from New York to be quite expensive. With the bottle under one arm and Mandy holding onto the other, he started uphill for Mrs. Murphy’s Poor House.
“Do you think Mrs. Murphy will be asleep?” Mandy said.
“Probably. She goes to bed early usually, but sometimes she sits up and watches television. It’s all right, though. Her sitting room is at the back of the house. If we’re careful we can get in without her seeing us.”
“What would she do if she saw?”
“Raise hell. Report me to the dean.”
“That would be too bad. I don’t want to get you into trouble.”
“In my opinion, it would be worth it.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I surely do.”
“Well, that was a very nice thing to say, and I promise that I’ll do something nice for you in return.”
“What will you do?”
“Wait and see. We must remember, after we get upstairs, not to get careless and make too much noise. Isn’t this the house?”
“Yes. You wait out here, and I’ll see if the hall’s clear.” He went up across the porch alone and into the hall. The hall was clear, with only a small light burning on one wall, and he signaled Mandy from the door to come on. She came up and into the hall without the slightest sound, except a soft giggle of excitement that was hardly more than a whisper, and they went upstairs together to his room. Henry drew the blinds and turned on a light.
“It’s very small, isn’t it?” Mandy said.
“Yes, but it’s handy. I can lie on the bed and reach damn near everything in the room.”
“It’s cozy, all right. I think it’s very cozy. Do you have some glasses?”—
“Dixie cups.”
“Dixie cups will do nicely. Will you please pour the wine?”
He opened the bottle and poured dark port into two Dixie cups. The wine was sweet and strong, and he could feel it almost immediately in his blood. By the time his cup was empty, his head was feeling strangely and pleasantly light, and he sat down on the edge of the bed. Mandy came over and stood in front of him between his knees, and he put his arms around her hips and leaned his head comfortably against her flat belly. After holding her so for a minute or two, he drew his hands slowly down over her hips and flanks and up again under her skirt.
“You’re sweet,” she said.
“You,” he said. “You’re the sweet one.”
“I promised I’d do something nice for you. Do you want me to?”
“Yes. Please.”
“It would be nicer if the lights were off. If you were to turn off the light and raise the blinds, we could still see each other, but no one could see in.”
He got up and turned off the light and raised the blinds. Turning, he stood with his back to the window until his eyes had adjusted to the shadows. She was standing in the precise place and position he had left her, and he could sense her excitement and expectancy as surely and as strongly as he could feel his own.
“Shall we have a little more wine first?” she said.
“If you wish.”
“I think a little more wine would be nice.”
He filled their cups again, and when they had drunk the sweet and heady wine, she turned around and said, “Please unbutton me,” and he did so with great difficulty, and then, when he had at last accomplished the unbuttoning, she turned back to face him and unfastened his jacket and the shirt under the jacket, throwing both to the floor. Then she came hard against him, clutching him close so that the hard nipples of her breasts rubbed teasingly across the flesh of his chest. Instinctively their mouths met and fused in a kiss that was filled with hunger and yearning. They remained locked together like that as if they could not get enough of each other.
Finally, Mandy drew away slightly and in the faint, uncertain light of the room he saw the svelte, exciting lines of her nude body. Her skin held a rich, pale glow, her breasts were high and firm, her waist narrow and flat, the hips having a wide flare, then narrowing into smooth, slender legs.
“Darling!” she whispered and drew his head to her bosom. He kissed the mounds of her breasts, his mouth lingering on the pink buds of her nipples, then coursing along her ribs, while desire mounted in a powerful tide in both of them.
Her own hands began a feverish stroking of Henry’s body while they kissed and kissed again. Finally, in blind impatience they stumbled toward the bed and fell upon it, their arms and legs intertwining, their hot, moist lips still joined. And afterward the lingering and deliberate revelation of each to the other was mounting and tempestuous excitement that grew to intolerable intensity and shattered at last to the crying of a voice that might have been his or hers or both.
“Was it nice?” she said afterward. “Did I please you?”
“Darling,” he said. “Darling Mandy.”
“Do you love me a little?”
“No. Not a little. I love you so much that it hurts and hurts and I can hardly bear it.”
“I’m so glad you love me, even if it’s only a little, and it makes me happy to know that I’ve been able to please you.”
She was then so quiet for so long that he thought she had gone to sleep, and time had passed from one day to another, to the day of Thanksgiving, when she spoke again and asked what time it was.
“After twelve,” he said. “About ten minutes.”
“Oh, God, I’ll have to go. I have to be in by one.”
“Even on a holiday?”
“Yes. Isn’t it depressing? School nights we have to be in by eleven, but weekends and holidays it’s one.”
“I wish you didn’t have to go.”
“So do I. I wish I could stay all night and wake up and please you in the morning.”
“Will you come back again?”