“Not for a minimum of a hundred years, as someone said recently. There’s an icebox in the living room, incidentally, and unless they fouled up it’s not empty. Let’s just see. Ah, they followed instructions to the letter. They even got the brand right.”
“Mumm’s Cordon Rouge. What a wonderful man I married.”
“I’d glad you realize it.”
“Now all we need is a leather couch.”
“And a terrible party to go to first. Should I call the desk and order up a dozen Polacks and a couple of bottles of Schenley’s?”
“I’m sure they’re fresh out. Of Polacks, anyway. But calling the desk reminds me.”
“You must be starving.”
“That’s what it reminded me. Do you mind waiting? Am I blushing? I think I am.”
“You are.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. Isn’t that ridiculous?”
“I kind of like it. The blushing bride. No, I don’t mind waiting. In fact there’s something nice about the idea of not having to rush. We’re old married folks. We can go downstairs and eat a civilized dinner. Maybe take a turn at the casino, catch a show at the nightclub—”
“That’s a little too civilized, but the dinner sounds good.”
“I’ll tell you what. I need a shave, so why don’t you unpack and freshen up and then we’ll go downstairs before they close the kitchen.”
In the dining room he ordered a Rum Collins for himself and a Daiquiri for her. “No, let me change that,” she told the waiter. “I’ll have an Apricot Brandy Sour.”
“You lunatic.”
“I was going to use my Brooklyn accent but I chickened out.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“Now I couldn’t. I’m too self-conscious. In New York everyone made fun of my Buffalo accent. ‘Aaandrea.’ I got the same thing at Bryn Mawr, but there I was naive enough to think it was something to be ashamed of, and I carefully cultivated a Main Line accent. Or what I thought was one. Then I would have to lose it very deliberately when I came home for vacations. In New York I decided I would rather sound like myself than go native.”
“New York. I don’t know how you could stand it.”
“Well, I couldn’t. That’s why I came home.”
“It’s nice for a visit. I like to drive down and see a couple of shows every now and then. Oh, you married a man with an original mind, didn’t you, Mrs. Benstock? ‘A nice place to visit but I’d hate to live there.’ Well, like most clichés, it happens to be the truth.”
“Well, that’s really all I did. Visit there, I mean. I never really lived there. I visited for a couple of years.” The waiter brought their drinks and they ordered dinner, sirloin for him, lobster Newburg for her. “So this is an Apricot Brandy Sour,” she said. “You would have to taste it to believe it, but don’t bother. I don’t feel sorry for that girl now. Anyone who drinks these regularly must be used to having men abandon her.”
“I’ll order you something else.”
“No, let me finish this. It’s not going to be a habit with me, but let me stay with my Apricot Brandy Sour. That sounds like a name for one of James Bond’s girlfriends. ‘Her name was Apricot Brandy Sour. She drove an E-type Jaguar and wore a diamond tiara and nothing else. Her auburn hair cascaded over her lush ruby-tipped breasts.’”
“‘Bond cast an admiring glance at her breasts. He took out a packet of Player’s and slit the wrapper with his thumbnail.’ I’ll be damned if I know how he does that, incidentally. He must have the sharpest goddamned thumbnails ever.”
After dinner they had a brandy at their table, then strolled through the lobby. They were both postponing their return to their suite, in unspoken agreement to delay their pleasure as long as possible. In the casino he told her that it was a good idea to stay away from the roulette wheel. They had the usual zero and double zero, and they also had a triple zero, which gave the house an added edge.
“I keep learning new things about you,” she told him. “Now I discover you’re an expert on gambling.”
“Not an expert and not even a gambler. I played when I was here the last time because there was nothing else to do. I think I won about forty dollars. It bored the hell out of me.”
“What did you play?”
“Blackjack some of the time. I lost a little at blackjack and won at craps. I think I’ll try my luck at the crap table.”
“All right. Oh, they have slot machines.”
“You’d get a better break playing parking meters, but here’s ten dollars. Have fun.”
She drifted over to a bank of slots while he headed for the crap table. When he rejoined her she had doubled her ten-dollar stake, and he told her that was exactly half of what he had lost at craps. She poured quarters into her bag and took his arm. “Let’s go,” she said. “I have a sudden craving for champagne.”
“So do I.”
In their suite she said, “I wanted the wedding small and I could have lived without the reception, but I’m glad we weren’t too blasé for a honeymoon. This is just the way every marriage should start. Flying first class, and then this suite. You’re going to give me an appetite for luxury. I won’t even ask what this is costing us.”
“I won’t even tell you.”
“Do you want to open the champagne? I think the second bottle will have to wait for another night, but I’ve got room for a glass or two. You pop the cork and I’ll slip into something more comfortable.”
When she came out of the bedroom he was already in bed with the sheet covering him from the waist down. He held two glasses of champagne. She slid under the covers beside him and took a glass. “To our honeymoon,” he said. “May it last a minimum of one hundred years.”
“Oh, it will.”
“Did anyone ever tell you you look terrific in black lace? I certainly hope not, but you do.”
“I’ve never owned anything like this.”
“You won’t own that long. I’m about to rip it off you.”
“You won’t have to. There. Am I what you always wanted? You’d better say yes.”
“Just what I always wanted. All I ever wanted, and you’re mine and I love you.”
“Oh, this is so perfect. A bed is nicer than a couch, isn’t it? And married is nicer than not married. Let me look at you. My husband. Oh, what a big cock you have. Do you mind if I talk like that?”
“I like it.”
“What a big beautiful cock my husband has.”
“And what lovely tits my little wife has. I think I will kiss them.”
“Oh, please do. Oh, yes.”
“And what a nice cunt. What a nice wet cunt, all warm and wet.”
“Oh, put your cock in my cunt. Oh, fuck me.”
He positioned himself on her and rubbed the head of his penis back and forth over her clitoris. The sensation was almost painfully exquisite.
“Don’t tease.”
“It says in the books that you’re supposed to like this.”
“God, I love it but I want you inside me. Now. Oh, yes, that’s so good. Your cock is in my cunt and I love it, I love you, oh God.”
Afterward he lit a cigarette and they passed it back and forth. She said, “That’s good to know, isn’t it?”
“What is?”
“That it’s better when you’re married.”
“Didn’t you think it would be?”
“I didn’t think it could be. Was it my imagination or did you make it last longer than usual?”
“I wanted to make it last forever. I never wanted to finish. I want all of this to last forever.”
“It will, my darling.”
“And we can do it whenever we want to. We have a license, like a hunting or a fishing license. We have a fucking license and we can do it all we want.”