Calls for the bill and walks out. They never see him again. My grandmother used to say, 'Love and eggs must be fresh to be enjoyed.' What I can't understand is why they didn't just tell the man the steak isn't fresh today -- have something else."
"Come on, Veronica, you don't lie at _all_?"
She emptied her drink. " 'It's easy to believe in yourself when you're lying, because you're talking about someone else.' You wrote that. I have it stuck above my desk."
I put up both hands in surrender. "But writers are notorious liars. You have to be."
"Could I ask you not to lie to me? I promise I can take a punch. You don't have to impress me because I already am. I like what you look like, and
I swear to God it doesn't matter to me if you were on the varsity football team or know aikido."
"What if I tell you I was married three times and all my exwives think I'm a dog?"
"I knew about the wives because I read all the articles I could find about you. I don't care about them because they're them and I'm different.
Give me a chance and I'll show you."
"Boy, you really take it to the hoop, don't you?"
"The day we met, at your book signing? I was dying to talk to you. But when we did, I chickened out. I wanted to tell you . . . No, I can't do it even now. I'm afraid."
"What about the truth you were talking about?"
"Okay. I guess there's no difference between chickening out and lying. I want to go out with you, I want to be with you."
"No boyfriend?"
"No boyfriend. No AIDS. I'm not a feminist and I'm not promiscuous, but sitting here with you this close, I just want to kiss your mouth for a long time."
She sang in her sleep. It was only one of a number of unanticipated discoveries I was to make that eventful night. We went back to her apartment, but everything happened so fast after we got there that I forgot to look around the place to see how she lived.
We walked in the door, she kicked it shut with her foot -- _boom_! --
and took me straight into the bedroom. No matter how much experience you've had, no matter how cool or worldly you think you are, nothing prepares you for a woman who leads you into the bedroom two seconds after you've entered her apartment on the first date. I felt twelve again and as innocent as a member of the Mickey Mouse Club. She took off her clothes first while staring at me the whole time. Shoes first in the most impossibly erotic way I had ever seen.
Then the white shirt fell open more and more as she undid the buttons until there were none left.
She hitched her shoulders and it fell off. No bra.
Breasts worth fighting a war for.
A thick silver belt buckle that she unhitched with a couple of quick movements of her hand --
right, left, open. The khakis were open as quickly and then that sound any man will remember when he's old and horizontal and gasping for his last breath -- the hiss of a zipper going down.
Black panties.
Page 23
Off.
"Come here."
I'd been sitting on the bed but stood quickly and went over to her. She wouldn't let me touch her until she'd undressed me. "Not yet. Enjoy no for a few minutes."
Unlike her own strip, she undid the buttons on my shirt very slowly, stopping frequently to look at me and smile. I could smell her hair. It was some innocent child's shampoo. She had broad shoulders but her arms were thin and denned.
When my shirt was on the floor, she ran her fingertips across my chest, shoulders, down my arms and across my hands. She came in close and her hands went up my back. When I bent to kiss her, she shook her head no and turned away, although her hands continued to move.
"Veronica?"
Her hands stopped and she pulled back.
"I don't have a condom."
She bent down, reached into the pocket of her trousers and brought out a handful.
"How could you know?" I tried to sound lighthearted and skeptical in one.
"I didn't. I _hoped_."
Although my novels _are_ much too full of sleazy sex, I won't even attempt to describe what it was like to sleep with Veronica
"Come on, Veronica, you don't lie at _all_?"
She emptied her drink. " 'It's easy to believe in yourself when you're lying, because you're talking about someone else.' You wrote that. I have it stuck above my desk."
I put up both hands in surrender. "But writers are notorious liars. You have to be."
"Could I ask you not to lie to me? I promise I can take a punch. You don't have to impress me because I already am. I like what you look like, and
I swear to God it doesn't matter to me if you were on the varsity football team or know aikido."
"What if I tell you I was married three times and all my exwives think I'm a dog?"
"I knew about the wives because I read all the articles I could find about you. I don't care about them because they're them and I'm different.
Give me a chance and I'll show you."
"Boy, you really take it to the hoop, don't you?"
"The day we met, at your book signing? I was dying to talk to you. But when we did, I chickened out. I wanted to tell you . . . No, I can't do it even now. I'm afraid."
"What about the truth you were talking about?"
"Okay. I guess there's no difference between chickening out and lying. I want to go out with you, I want to be with you."
"No boyfriend?"
"No boyfriend. No AIDS. I'm not a feminist and I'm not promiscuous, but sitting here with you this close, I just want to kiss your mouth for a long time."
She sang in her sleep. It was only one of a number of unanticipated discoveries I was to make that eventful night. We went back to her apartment, but everything happened so fast after we got there that I forgot to look around the place to see how she lived.
We walked in the door, she kicked it shut with her foot -- _boom_! --
and took me straight into the bedroom. No matter how much experience you've had, no matter how cool or worldly you think you are, nothing prepares you for a woman who leads you into the bedroom two seconds after you've entered her apartment on the first date. I felt twelve again and as innocent as a member of the Mickey Mouse Club. She took off her clothes first while staring at me the whole time. Shoes first in the most impossibly erotic way I had ever seen.
Then the white shirt fell open more and more as she undid the buttons until there were none left.
She hitched her shoulders and it fell off. No bra.
Breasts worth fighting a war for.
A thick silver belt buckle that she unhitched with a couple of quick movements of her hand --
right, left, open. The khakis were open as quickly and then that sound any man will remember when he's old and horizontal and gasping for his last breath -- the hiss of a zipper going down.
Black panties.
Page 23
Off.
"Come here."
I'd been sitting on the bed but stood quickly and went over to her. She wouldn't let me touch her until she'd undressed me. "Not yet. Enjoy no for a few minutes."
Unlike her own strip, she undid the buttons on my shirt very slowly, stopping frequently to look at me and smile. I could smell her hair. It was some innocent child's shampoo. She had broad shoulders but her arms were thin and denned.
When my shirt was on the floor, she ran her fingertips across my chest, shoulders, down my arms and across my hands. She came in close and her hands went up my back. When I bent to kiss her, she shook her head no and turned away, although her hands continued to move.
"Veronica?"
Her hands stopped and she pulled back.
"I don't have a condom."
She bent down, reached into the pocket of her trousers and brought out a handful.
"How could you know?" I tried to sound lighthearted and skeptical in one.
"I didn't. I _hoped_."
Although my novels _are_ much too full of sleazy sex, I won't even attempt to describe what it was like to sleep with Veronica
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