Suitcase Simpson was blushing.
“Well, did you ever think of doing that?” Cissy Hathaway said.
They were sitting on the king-sized bed in a Holiday Inn in the middle of the afternoon drinking California champagne out of the little plastic glasses.
“Jesus, no,” Simpson said. “Cissy, you got to understand, I haven’t had that much experience, you know? I mean you weren’t my first, but, well, I got a lot to learn.”
“But you have youth,” Cissy said. “And energy.”
She drank champagne and refilled her plastic cup.
“Thank God,” she said, “for energy.”
Simpson blushed again and drank, as much to occupy his hands as any other reason. He didn’t really like champagne. It was sour compared to Pepsi, and sweet compared to beer. He really liked beer better. Hell, he admitted to himself, he really liked Pepsi better. But sitting in a motel with a married woman you were about to screw, didn’t seem the right time for Pepsi. Cissy was wearing a little black dress with thin straps over the shoulders and very high heels. She had gotten to the hotel first and he knew she had changed into these clothes. He could see the brown dress she’d worn hanging in the closet. The mirror in the bathroom was still misted so he knew she’d showered, which meant that she had put on the makeup just before he arrived. She’d brought the champagne too, and he knew she was paying for the room. He felt a little funny about not paying. But he didn’t have all that much money, and she had tons. I guess my contribution is the energy, he thought.
“You love your husband?” he said.
Cissy widened her eyes slightly.
“Do I love Hasty,” she said.
“I mean you sneak off with me every week. Maybe other people.”
Cissy narrowed her eyes and smiled to suggest that maybe he was right.
“But you don’t want a divorce or anything, right?”
“Divorce? No, I don’t want to divorce Hasty. We have been together for twenty-seven years. He is worth a lot of money. We have a nice home. He is not demanding of my time, and we are comfortable with each other.”
“So how come you cheat on him?” Simpson said.
He wished he hadn’t said “cheat” as soon as it came out. But Cissy didn’t seem to mind.
“Hasty is not passionate,” she said. “I am.”
“That’s for sure,” Simpson said.
Cissy smiled and looked at him sideways like Lauren Bacall.
“This week,” she said, “I think we should experiment with positions.”
He thought they’d already been doing that, but he didn’t say so.
“Sure,” he said.