Her face was alive, that was what it was. Her smile lit up all around her.
He got himself a little closer. She was in conversation with a couple on the couch next to her, and suddenly the woman who was half of the couple got up – it was magic – and went into the adjacent bathroom. Wes moseyed on over.
She slid off the arm of the couch, into the empty place next to the other half of the couple, a good-looking man. Put an arm around him. Uh oh, maybe not… then she looked right at Wes.
'I love your shirt,' she said. Then, 'This is my oldest brother, Larry. He was fun when he was younger.' She patted the arm of the couch and Wes moved up a step and sat where she'd been. 'Wes,' he said, sticking out his hand, which she took and shook. Over her head, he asked, 'How you doin', Larry?'
'Larry's loaded. Sally's taking him home. Sally's his wife. She just went
to the bathroom. I'm Sam. I'm staying.'
As it turned out, she didn't stay all that long. Sam had apparently been waiting at the Shamrock for someone who looked just like Wes to walk through the door and save her from a night of aimless drinking. So another beer later for each of them, they were arm-in-arm outside, and there was Ahmal, parked on 9th where Wes had left him. This made an impression on Sam.
He paid Ahmal fifty more at her place, a downstairs flat on Upper Ashbury, and while Sam was getting out, told his good buddy the cab driver to wait an hour more and if Wes didn't come back out, he could take off, and thanks for the memories.
The door closed behind them on a cosy space – a large open room with a low ceiling, old-fashioned brick walls, built-in and seemingly organized bookshelves, a wood-burning stove.
'You have a dog,' he said.
A cocker spaniel was waking up, stretching in a padded basket next to the stove. 'You're not allergic or anything, are you?'
'As a matter of fact, I myself own a dog.'
'I knew there was something about you…'
'His name's Bart. He's a boxer.'
She leaned over to pet her little darling. 'This is Quayle,' Sam said, 'with a "y", just like Dan. You know, the brains of a cocker spaniel, so I thought, why not? Do you want another drink?'
'Not really. Would you like to come over here?' He held out his arms, and she gave Quayle one last pet, hesitated a moment, smiled, then walked to him.
She came naked through the door of the bedroom, a glass of Irish whiskey in each hand. The funny thing,' she said, 'is I don't normally do this.'
There was a blue liquid lava lamp from the 1960s or 1970s next to the bed. The windows were horizontal, high in the brick wall, at ground-level outdoors.
Wes was under a thick down comforter, hands behind his head. He reached out for one of the glasses. 'I don't, either.'
She handed him his glass and sat on his side of the bed. He thought she was as comfortable with her nakedness as it was possible to be, and also thought that was as it should be. Her body was toned and lush, nice breasts with tiny pink nipples. He rested his hand on her thigh. 'You can tell me the truth,' she said. 'It won't hurt my feelings. I can take it.'
'That is the truth. I was married for almost thirty years. Now this.'
You mean, this is the first time since you were married?'
'That was it. Am I blowing my cover here as man of the world?'
'No, I'm just surprised.'
'Why? It seemed natural enough to me. Pretty great, actually.'
She gave him her smile again.'That, too. Me, too, I mean. It's supposed to be such a hassle to get it right, especially the first time.'
'Maybe not.'
She put her whiskey glass on the side table and slid in next to him, snuggling into his chest. After a minute, he could feel her begin to laugh.
'What's funny?'
'Well, the name thing…'
He thought a moment. 'Your name isn't Sam?'
This made her laugh. 'No, my name's Sam. I'm talking last names. You
are
at least Wes, aren't you?'
'Full disclosure coming up.' He patted her back reassuringly. 'Wes Farrell, Attorney at Law, at your
He got himself a little closer. She was in conversation with a couple on the couch next to her, and suddenly the woman who was half of the couple got up – it was magic – and went into the adjacent bathroom. Wes moseyed on over.
She slid off the arm of the couch, into the empty place next to the other half of the couple, a good-looking man. Put an arm around him. Uh oh, maybe not… then she looked right at Wes.
'I love your shirt,' she said. Then, 'This is my oldest brother, Larry. He was fun when he was younger.' She patted the arm of the couch and Wes moved up a step and sat where she'd been. 'Wes,' he said, sticking out his hand, which she took and shook. Over her head, he asked, 'How you doin', Larry?'
'Larry's loaded. Sally's taking him home. Sally's his wife. She just went
to the bathroom. I'm Sam. I'm staying.'
As it turned out, she didn't stay all that long. Sam had apparently been waiting at the Shamrock for someone who looked just like Wes to walk through the door and save her from a night of aimless drinking. So another beer later for each of them, they were arm-in-arm outside, and there was Ahmal, parked on 9th where Wes had left him. This made an impression on Sam.
He paid Ahmal fifty more at her place, a downstairs flat on Upper Ashbury, and while Sam was getting out, told his good buddy the cab driver to wait an hour more and if Wes didn't come back out, he could take off, and thanks for the memories.
The door closed behind them on a cosy space – a large open room with a low ceiling, old-fashioned brick walls, built-in and seemingly organized bookshelves, a wood-burning stove.
'You have a dog,' he said.
A cocker spaniel was waking up, stretching in a padded basket next to the stove. 'You're not allergic or anything, are you?'
'As a matter of fact, I myself own a dog.'
'I knew there was something about you…'
'His name's Bart. He's a boxer.'
She leaned over to pet her little darling. 'This is Quayle,' Sam said, 'with a "y", just like Dan. You know, the brains of a cocker spaniel, so I thought, why not? Do you want another drink?'
'Not really. Would you like to come over here?' He held out his arms, and she gave Quayle one last pet, hesitated a moment, smiled, then walked to him.
She came naked through the door of the bedroom, a glass of Irish whiskey in each hand. The funny thing,' she said, 'is I don't normally do this.'
There was a blue liquid lava lamp from the 1960s or 1970s next to the bed. The windows were horizontal, high in the brick wall, at ground-level outdoors.
Wes was under a thick down comforter, hands behind his head. He reached out for one of the glasses. 'I don't, either.'
She handed him his glass and sat on his side of the bed. He thought she was as comfortable with her nakedness as it was possible to be, and also thought that was as it should be. Her body was toned and lush, nice breasts with tiny pink nipples. He rested his hand on her thigh. 'You can tell me the truth,' she said. 'It won't hurt my feelings. I can take it.'
'That is the truth. I was married for almost thirty years. Now this.'
You mean, this is the first time since you were married?'
'That was it. Am I blowing my cover here as man of the world?'
'No, I'm just surprised.'
'Why? It seemed natural enough to me. Pretty great, actually.'
She gave him her smile again.'That, too. Me, too, I mean. It's supposed to be such a hassle to get it right, especially the first time.'
'Maybe not.'
She put her whiskey glass on the side table and slid in next to him, snuggling into his chest. After a minute, he could feel her begin to laugh.
'What's funny?'
'Well, the name thing…'
He thought a moment. 'Your name isn't Sam?'
This made her laugh. 'No, my name's Sam. I'm talking last names. You
are
at least Wes, aren't you?'
'Full disclosure coming up.' He patted her back reassuringly. 'Wes Farrell, Attorney at Law, at your
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