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He opened his eyes and made himself smile. Be patient, he told himself. It’s a matter of turning her curiosity in the proper direction.
“Right now,” he said, enunciating each word, “it’s the journey that concerns me. Not the point of departure.”
She seemed to think about it. “In that case, maybe I should give you a ride. One you won’t forget.” She grinned and stretched out on her back, then raised her hips.
He bit his lip, pained by her ability to reduce elegant concepts to insipid chatter. For a second, he thought he heard a faint creak, coming from the wall, behind the rattan dresser.“
Hey, cowboy,” she said, with a little buck of her hips. “Ready to saddle up?”
Reluctantly, he looked at her. Truly, she was beautiful. But the prospect of simplifying his theory, to the point where even she could understand it, made him gnash his teeth. Still, what choice did he have? If his supposition was correct, she was the instrument he needed. She was his gateway to heightened awareness. Forcing a smile, he scooted to the side and slipped a pillow between his back and the headboard. When she settled back down, looking puzzled, he steepled his hands, feeling like a weary parent, obligated to tell a bedtime story.
“What I’m saying, Mona… what I’m trying to express—”
“You want it with the lights on, or off?”
“Damn it all! Will you let me explain?”
A sharp thump rattled the wall, near the money slot.
Startled, he sat up, staring at the wall.
She waved away his concern. "Minarii's just checking. Making sure that I'm all right." Quickly, she sat up, lifted her hand to the wall and tapped out a brief but intricate rhythm.
Flustered, he said, "Can't you just stop for one minute? Stop what you're doing and listen?"
She compressed her lips into a thin line, then brushed her hair back. "Fine," she said. "You talk and I'll listen."
"Well, then." He took a breath, letting his anger subside.
"You need to understand," he said, lowering his voice, "that a physical coupling isn't the only thing I'm seeking. There's also... Well, what I'm trying to get at-"
"Yes?" said Mona, retrieving a pack of cigarettes from her purse. Deftly, she tucked one between her lips.
"Please don't," he said, apologetically.
She rolled her eyes, dug out a lighter and flicked it, taking a long pull on the cigarette.
"What I'm trying to explain-"
"End of a relationship," she said. "That's my guess."
"Pardon?"
"You got dumped." She blew out a long stream of smoke. "Nine times out of ten, that leaves a man in limbo."
He frowned. "I'm hardly in limbo."
She eyed his groin. "When I touched you a while ago, it was pop-goes-the-weasel."
"So?"
"Now I say the 'R' word, and Mister Weasel takes a powder."
Feeling the heat of his blush, he glanced at his crotch, then at the timer, which was up to 16 minutes.
"Who's to say it wasn't me?" he said, speaking more quickly. "Me wanting to free myself from a relationship that's dying. To admit to the possibility of new partners. To new horizons and perceptions - without, if you will, any strings attached?"
She smiled. "Well, then. Here's to no strings."
She reached behind her neck and pulled at the strand that secured her halter-top.
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