Chapter 60

HAWK CAME TO MY PLACE to babysit Pearl, and Susan went with me to New York for fun. We stopped for a tongue sandwich at Rein’s deli on the way down. I made several amusing tongue remarks while we ate, which Susan said were disgusting. That night we stayed uptown at The Carlyle, had dinner at Café Boulud, and went to bed before midnight.

I was prepared for several hours of wild abandon when I got into bed. But by the time Susan got through with her nocturnal ablutions, I had nodded off. I woke up in the morning with Susan’s head on my chest. I shifted a little so I could look at her. She opened her eyes and we looked at each other. She moved a little so we were facing.

“You’ve always been an early riser,” Susan said.

“Is that a double entendre?” I said.

“I think so,” Susan said.

“Shall we take advantage of it?” I said.

“Right after we shower and brush our teeth,” Susan said.

“By then it may be too late,” I said.

She smiled. And got out of bed.

“Not you and me, big boy,” she said. “For us it’s never too late.”

“How come you sleep in sweatpants and a T-shirt?” I said.

She smiled again.

“So that when I take them off,” she said, “the contrast makes me look really good.”

“It works,” I said.

“Yes,” she said, and went into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

A half-hour later we were both back in bed, clean of body and mouth. When Susan made love she went deep inside someplace. She didn’t withdraw. It was just the intensity of her focus that rendered everything except the lovemaking irrelevant. I liked to look at her then, her eyes closed, her face perfectly still, calm in contrast to what we both were feeling and doing. The event was busy enough so I couldn’t look for very long, but when we were done and I was looking down at her, after a time she opened her eyes and looked at me and I could see her slowly refocusing, swimming back to the surface from wherever she had been. It was always a moment like no other.

“You lookin’ at me,” Susan said in a surprisingly good De Niro impression.

“Sex is a complicated thing,” I said.

Susan widened her eyes.

“Wow,” she said.

“It enhances love,” I said. “But not as much as love enhances it.”

“You’ve noticed that,” Susan said.

“I have.”

“And you may be particularly aware of that interplay these days,” Susan said. “Because of this business with Gary Eisenhower and the women.”

“I would guess,” I said.

Susan and I stayed in eye lock, another moment, then. She smiled.

“Perhaps,” she said, “if you would get your two-hundred-something pounds off of my body, I could breathe and we could discuss it over breakfast.”

“You were breathing good a little while ago,” I said.

“Gasping,” Susan said.

“In awe?” I said.

“For breath,” she said.

I eased off her and lay on my back beside her, and she put her head on my shoulder.

“I mean, the old jokes are all true. The worst sex I ever had was very good. But I have never had a sexual experience to compare to making love with you.”

“Jewesses are hot,” Susan said.

“You are beautiful, and in shape, and skillful, and enthusiastic. But I have been with many other women who fit that description close enough. But nothing to compare with you.”

Susan turned her head so that she could look at me.

“There’s a saying I read someplace, that appetite is the best sauce,” she said.

“Meaning it’s not just what you are, it’s what I feel you are,” I said.

“I would guess,” she said, “in truth, that it is finally about what and who we are.”

I nodded.

“It’s what Gary Eisenhower and his women don’t understand, and probably never will,” I said.

“It is probably life’s essence,” Susan said.

I nodded.

“Maybe children, too,” I said.

“Maybe,” Susan said. “But we’re not going to have any.”

“This’ll have to do,” I said.

“It does very well,” she said.

She kissed me. I kissed her back.

“I’m thinking pancakes for breakfast,” she said.


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