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"Open the champagne," Penny said as she went into the bathroom. " See if it's still cold."
It was still cold. Whoever had turned down the bed had also refilled the cooler with ice. As he wrestled with the cork, he could hear the toilet flush and then water running.
The cork popped and he poured champagne into the glasses. He sipped his.
Nice.He looked at the label. California champagne, a brand he'd never heard of.
Methode Champagnois, whatever the hell that means. What did you expect, Moet et Chandon?
He heard, or at least sensed, the bathroom door opening, and turned with Penny's glass extended.
She had-Jesus, how did she do that so quickly?-taken off her clothes and changed into a negligee-or peignoir, whatever a pale blue, lacy, nearly transparent garment of seduction was called- and brushed her hair so that it hung straight down to her shoulders.
The light in the bathroom was still on, which served to illuminate the thin material of her negligee from the rear. She was, for all visual purposes, quite naked.
"Jesus, Penny!"
"I figured, what the hell? Matt knows all my secrets. What have I got to lose?"
She came into the bedroom, took the champagne glass from him, and walked to the draped window.
"I guess it didn't work, huh?" she said after a moment.
What the fuck am I supposed to do now?
I can't see through her nightgown anymore. Jesus, that made my heart jump!
He saw her raise and drain her champagne glass, and then she turned.
"Go and wait in the other room," she said, her voice flat and bitter. "I'll get dressed, and we can go."
She walked toward him.
"Go on, Matt. Get out of here."
Tears were running down her cheeks.
He put his hand to her face.
"Don't," she said. "Don't pity me, you sonofabitch!"
"It would be stupid, Penny."
"Lifeis stupid, you jackass. It's a bitch, and then you die."
He chuckled.
She raised her eyes to his.
And then her hand came up and touched his cheek.
****
"What are you thinking, Matt?"
"You don't want to know what I'm thinking."
I am thinking that I could cheerfully spend the rest of my life like this, with my arm around you, my fingers on your backbone, your face on my chest, your absolutely magnificent breasts pressing on me, the smell of your hair in my nostrils. Feeling the way I do. Jesus, what made it so good? The champagne?
