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Robert Treat Hotel
Newark, New Jersey
0115 7 March 1943
After Kurt Bayer had agreed to an all-night date with Mary by circling the “30” that she had written on the inside of the matchbook cover, Kurt had said that he had to make a couple of quick arrangements.
The first he said was that he had to go to his room and leave another note for his traveling partner.
He asked Mary about a hotel room, and when Mary replied that she did not have one—wasn’t allowed to have one, she added—Bayer realized that meant he had to take care of that, see if he could get one in the Robert Treat, and, if not, then try to find one elsewhere, preferably very close by, before writing the new note.
He had considered the idea that they could have taken a chance and used the room he already had access to. But he instantly dismissed that, because they wanted the room for all night, and he told himself he’d be damned if he and Mary were going to be interrupted by Richard Koch storming into the room at whatever late hour—possibly drunk, and possibly suddenly interested in sharing Mary.
So Bayer had gone to the front desk, found that they had plenty of available rooms, put down a cash deposit to secure a nice one with a view on the ninth floor for three days to start, and then returned to the lounge with two keys.
At the bar with Mary, he had ordered them both fresh drinks—doubles, and in highball glasses, so on their way upstairs they would not risk spilling liquor from the tricky-shaped martini glasses—then paid the tab, signing it to Koch’s room, and gave Mary her room key, saying that he would meet her there after he went by his room and either told Koch that he had plans for the evening or left him a note to that effect.
Bayer had found the notepad with his first note untouched on top of the bedspread and no sign that Koch had ever returned. He wondered where in hell Koch could have gone for so long—ditching a car was not that difficult—then decided he’d probably found his own fun.
He had then torn off the old note from the pad and written a new one:
* * *
R—
Starving. Couldn’t wait any longer. See you in t
he morning.
K
* * *
He had grinned at that.
Starving? Absolutely. But now it’s a whole different hunger.
Mary had already been in the bed when Bayer finally reached room 909, though in the darkened room it had taken him a moment to notice the human form under the covers. She had all the lights turned out, the radio quietly playing some big band music, and the curtains on the big window pulled back to show the sweeping view over Newark.
As his eyes had adjusted to the dark, he noticed the tidy stack of her clothes in a chair by the window, with her shoes beneath on the floor. And he could see that she had the sheets pulled up to her nose—and that her eyes twinkled.
Aroused, Bayer had not been able to pull off his clothes fast enough.
Literally.
No sooner had he jumped naked between the sheets—at the same moment noticing Mary’s wonderful warmth and sweet scent floating out—than his first attempt at coupling turned disastrous.
Bayer had been very excited—too excited, it turned out—and they had had to wait thirty minutes—despite Mary’s very creative and energetic attempts to breathe life, so to speak, back into his libido—before they could again try making the beast with two backs.
They now lay on their backs in the bed, sweat-soaked and exhausted, looking at the ceiling, the music from the radio softly masking the sound of them trying to catch their breath.
After a moment, Mary inhaled deeply and let it out.
“That was worth the wait,” she said, and giggled as she reached over to stroke his chest.
“Yeah, it was.”
“You’re very nice, you know.”
