Flesh

“Well, in particular, his portrayals of women. They’re like the fantasies of an adolescent. Maria, for instance.”

“I love that sleeping bag scene.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “Well, now.”

Alison found herself blushing again. “I just mean, I think it’s very romantic.”

“Romantic, perhaps, but idealized to a ludicrous extent. Have you ever experienced intercourse in a sleeping bag?”

“Maybe.”

“Ah, we’re being coy.”

Alison shrugged and took a drink. When she looked again at Nick, he was gazing into her eyes.

This is certainly progressing apace, she thought.

What the hell am I getting into?

“If you have, I’m sure you found it confining and the ground very hard and the entire experience barely tolerable.”

I didn’t find it that way at all, she thought. But that’s my business, Nick old sport.

“I find a king-sized bed to be the ideal setting for such encounters, don’t you?”

“I thought we were discussing Hemingway.”

“And so we are. I believe that I was explaining my theory that the sleeping bag scene in For Whom the Bell Tolls presents a false, idealized view of—”

“I think it’s nice.”

The corners of Nick’s lips curled up. “I don’t think it would be so nice in a rain storm.”

“If you had a tent—”

“Unfortunately, I have neither a tent nor a sleeping bag. I do, however, have a Trans Am which could transport us in comfort to my apartment.”

“Where, no doubt, you have a king-sized bed.”

He lifted his glass and took a sip, staring at Alison over the rim. He looked as if the stare were well practiced. Setting down his drink, he leaned forward. He folded his arms on the table and gazed steadily into Alison’s eyes. “As a matter of fact, yes, I do have a king-sized bed. Whether or not we use it, however, is entirely up to you.”

“Thanks.”

“I realize that we’ve just met, and I would understand a certain hesitancy on your part to indulge in… intimacies. I certainly wouldn’t want you to feel any pressure from me in that regard.”

“I don’t know, Nick.”

You don’t know? she asked herself. Isn’t this exactly what you were looking for?

Maybe, maybe not.

“I’ll drive you over to my place. We’ll have a drink or two to take off the chill, listen to some good music. Nothing more than that, unless, of course, you insist.”

“I see. You’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

He shrugged elaborately. “Of course, if you would rather not.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Ah, but you have your doubts.”

“I’m not exactly in the habit of rushing over to a guy’s apartment after I’ve known him for about five minutes.”

“I’m not exactly in the habit of asking after five minutes.” He took another small sip of his cocktail. He set it down. He gazed into her eyes. “To be quite honest, Alison, there’s something…special about you. I felt it the moment I saw you sitting here…”

“Gaping at that erotic video,” she added.

“It wasn’t that. It’s just that, when I saw you, it was as if we weren’t strangers, as if I’d known you for a very long time.”

Might’ve been a good line, except that it sounded so trite.

Trite or not, what if he actually meant it?

“I want to know you better,” he said.

“I don’t—”

“A couple of drinks, that’s all. We’ll listen to music, we’ll talk. We’ll get to know each other. What’ve you got to lose?”

Good point.

“If you’re afraid I might attack you, or something…” He shook his head, smiling at the ridiculous suggestion.

“It isn’t that.”

“What, then?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then let’s give it a try. We owe it to ourselves.”

“Give me some time to think about it. Meanwhile, I’ve got to use the john. I’ll be right back.”

In a pig’s eye, she thought.

She left the table, taking her flight bag with her. Unfortunately, she really did need to use the toilet. The homeward hike would take a good fifteen minutes. In her condition, she’d never make it without exploding.

She rushed into the rest room. Her jumpsuit made matters difficult, but finally she finished and left the stall.

She stepped to one of the sinks. Slowly, she washed her hands.

You could go with him, she thought. Isn’t that why you came here tonight?

Her heart pounded so hard that it made her chest ache.

Forget it. Grab the rain duds and pull a disappearing act.

In the mirror above the sink, her eyes looked wide and frantic.

She dried her hands on a paper towel, then walked to the rest room door. She opened it.

Nick stood in front of the coat rack, wearing a clear plastic slicker and a tennis hat. He smiled when he saw her. “All set?” he asked.

Oh, God.

Nodding, she pulled Helen’s rain gear off the hanger. Nick held the heavy coat while she struggled into it. She put on the hat. Nick pushed open the door, and she stepped outside. The rain was still coming down hard.

Nick took hold of her hand.

They walked across the parking lot, Nick leading her around puddles.

At the passenger side of his car, he released her hand and bent over the door to unlock it.

“Nick,” she said.

“Yeah,” he called without looking back.

“I don’t think so.”

“What?” He forgot about the door. He whirled around and scowled at her. “What did you say?” he asked over the noise of the storm.

“I’m not going to your place. Not tonight. Thanks for asking, though. I’m sorry.”

“Got a car?”

“What?”

“A car. Did you drive here?”

“No.”

“Get in, then. I’ll drive you.”

“I told you—”

“I heard, I heard. To your place. You don’t want to walk in this mess.” Turning away, he bent over and unlocked the door. He opened it for her.

Alison hesitated.

“Get in or don’t. It’s up to you.”

“Okay. Well. Thanks.” She climbed in, and Nick shut the door. She took off the rain hat and opened the