“Will you have a cocktail, or what?”
“Have you had anything?”
“Yes, I had a Martini.”
“Then that’s what I’ll have. Are there any left?”
“Oh, my yes. I only had one. That’s all I had time for,” she said. “The shaker’s practically full.”
They filled their glasses and sat down in facing chairs in front of the fireplace.
“The phone is going to start ringing any minute and I’m not going to pay any attention to it,” she said.
“Leave it off the hook,” he said.
“No, I want him to think I’m out,” she said. “If I take it off the hook the operator will report that it’s off, and he’ll know I’m here. Also, he might ask her to turn the howler on. He’s very angry with me.”
“He’s in a difficult frame of mind,” said George.
“Well, the hell with him. What were you going to tell me?”
“The real reason why I came to New York? Finish your drink and have another.”
“Is it that bad?”
“I don’t think there’s anything bad about it, but on three Martinis you’ll be more understanding.”
“All right,” she said. She refilled her glass and his, and drank hers quickly. “Okay. I’m ready. How about you?”
“Of course,” he said, and held up his glass.
“Now I’m full of understanding,” she said.
“Well, late yesterday afternoon I was sitting in my study and I became conscious of the fact that I had the God-damnedest erection I’ve had in I don’t know how long. It was there, that’s all.”
“Where was your wife?” said Marian.
“In the house, but this had nothing to do with her.”
“But she might have appreciated it.”
“It was not for her. At first I didn’t know who it was for.”
“If you had said it was for me, I’d have called you a liar,” she said.
“Wait a minute before you call me a liar. I’m trying to be as truthful as possible. This wasn’t for anybody, you or my wife or anyone else. But when I began to think about what I wanted to do about it, then I thought of you. You’ve heard the old story about Lord Droolingtool and the butler? ‘Your Lordship has a big one today, shall I send for her Ladyship?’ and Droolingtool replies, ‘To hell with the old bag, I’m taking this up to London.’ “
“You told me that story,” she said.
“Well, this isn’t London, but here I am.”
“You’re a son of a bitch. When I think of how different you are than your brother. He loves me, but all I am to you is part of a risqué story.”
“Not all, Marian. I am, as you said, a very different person from my brother, and the proof of it is that I told you the story. Or re-told it. I’ve been accused before of not being romantic, but I show you a great deal more respect by being completely candid. You and I are very much alike, you know.”
“Do you think so?”
“Yes, I do. Will you be as truthful with me?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
“This morning you were in my office, we chatted a few minutes and then you started to leave.”
“Yes.”
“You hesitated,” he said.
“Did I?”
“You don’t remember that?”
“I just remember feeling that you were looking at me. Staring at me, in fact. Almost as if you were making a pass at me.”
“I’ve been making a pass at you for the last twenty-five hours.”
“I’ve been making one at you for the last—nine, I guess it is.”
“What if that telephone starts ringing?”
“I’ll close the bedroom door. We’ll hear it, but it won’t be as loud.”
“We may not even hear it,” he said.
They stood up simultaneously and he held her in his arms and kissed her mouth. “I don’t know whether it’s the Martinis, but I don’t know why we’re standing here with our clothes on. Do you?”
“No,” he said.
“Especially with the present you brought me all the way from Pennsylvania. You bastard, George Lockwood. I ought to hate you. I do, too.”
“I know you do,” he said.
She put her hand between his legs. “My present,” she said. “Come on, let’s open my present.”
They were undressed and sitting on the edge of the bed when the telephone began to ring. “There he is,” she said. “He picked a bad time.”
“Pay no attention to it.”
“But I will pay attention to it. I almost forgot about him, and now I want to do all the things he never wants to do. Oh, such a nice present, George, and all for me. Will you give me another on my birthday?”
“Or Christmas. Whichever comes first.”
“Don’t you,” she said. “By this time he would have, but don’t you. The Lockwood Brothers. You ought to make me a member of the firm. The silent partner. Oh, but I’m not going to be silent any more. George! Oh, you bastard. Oh, you wonderful bastard!”
“You bitch!”
“Say it again.”
“You bitch in heat. You whore.”
Once again the telephone began its ringing, but now they lay quiet and listened to it, her head resting on his arm, his hand gently pressing her breast. “What does he want?” said George.
“Oh, Christ, I don’t know what he wants, and neither does he.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him I wanted to be alone tonight.”
“Is he here every afternoon?”
“Just about.”
“Has he got a key?”
“Oh, sure. Sometimes he’s here before I am. We don’t always screw. Sometimes we don’t even talk very much. He just wants to be here. Some days he has to leave as soon as I get here. I told him once that he was queer for the furniture.”
“Is he queer?”
“The only way he’s queer is by not being queer at all. Everybody does something, but not him. That’s one thing that would make me a little afraid to marry him. I want the money, and not having to work for a living. But if he ever found out I had another man, he could be mean. He’s terribly jealous.”
“He is?”
“His kind are. He knows I’ve done everything. I’ve told him, trying to get him to relax more. But he’s the one that’s changing me. But then every once in a while I have to do it with somebody like you. You were right, you know. This morning in your office I got the shivers. If you’d come near me I’d have done anything you said, right then and there and I wouldn’t have cared who was watching.”
“I take it you have somebody like me.”
“He’s not like you, but he’s not like Penrose. He’s an actor and he lives around the corner on 37th Street. Oh, God, once he got out of here just in time. He and Penrose passed each other on the stairs, one Sunday afternoon. He was here all Saturday night and Sunday morning, and Penrose was supposed to drop in around four o’clock, but he got here around two. That’s when I found out how jealous he could be. All I can say is, it’s a good thing he didn’t get here Sunday morning. There were four of us. Daisy chain. Everything. All Saturday night and Sunday morning. About once a year I have to let go, all my inhibitions. I wish you could stay all night, but he’s going to keep on telephoning, and if I don’t answer it by ten o’clock, he’s just liable to show up, and that wouldn’t be so good. He’s sore at you, he won’t tell me why, and I guess you won’t either, but right now you’re in his bad books. I’ll cook you some dinner, then you’ll have to leave. You could come back, though. Say around midnight, and stay. Even if he came here at ten o’clock, he never stays all night. He’s being very careful about his wife. She has some pansy boy friend that tells her what to do, and Penrose doesn’t want them to get anything on him.”