Funny girl, sounded mad, can’t wait, just to get inside some place, what’ll he say? aiee, aiee, at this hour the apartment can’t have much heat, only don’t get playful, just Hello, thanks — play it straight — Don’t want to trouble you any farther — further — So just…eighth…seventh…show me the rug or couch or whatever it is I’m to rest on, and if it’s still okay a shower first if you don’t mind, as you can see I really need it, and a towel in any state of dampness or decay would be much appreciated, so you just go to sleep, night-night, don’t worry about me, and much more than my thanks, you’ve been, what can I say? divine…second…first…
Bathrobe, something for underneath, just a pair of panties from here or there, like to put up her hair but hasn’t time, tie the belt tight, tuck the top in, nothing needed for her feet.
Door opens as he has his finger—“Hi, heard the elevator door open,” closes.
“Hello, thank you, you startled me,” holds out his hand, “—forgot my key. I—”
“Shhh — neighbors.”
“Sorry, and no dumb, and besides, confusing that dumb remark when you also consider that I lost my own housekeys. But anyway, seriously”—her hair down, more blonde than orange now, how’s that? could be the ceiling light — smooth, shiny—“I don’t think I should leave my shoes here, do you? They’re not wet and I wouldn’t want to lose them.”
“Why, is it raining?”
Big breasts, thick thighs, small waist, under the robe, what he can detect—“No, why? Don’t know why I even said it, I mean,” cute little feet. “I’ll leave them on. They might be dirty, I guess that’s why. Said it, I—”
“It’s all right, this isn’t a Japanese household. Come in.”
“Thanks.” She steps aside, he shuts the door, she locks, her back, large buttocks. “Nice place.”
“You haven’t seen it.”
“The lobby downstairs, the vestibule. Which is it? The second entrance room, with all the marble. Oh, befores I forgets,” gives her the cab money in his hand.
“No, I don’t want—” trying to give it back.
“Please, it’s not mine — Then a dollar for the subway tomorrow, which I’ll mail back,” takes a dollar bill. “But I always get those two rooms mixed up or never had them straight.” Face, smile, teeth, height, high cheeks, those sweet feet, almost oriental eyes, simple powder-blue bathrobe, paint, print, light fixture in this small room, all in good taste, tons of books shelved, don’t let it get to…turn your…make you…something, what? No time.
“Lobby,” she already said. Also: “Vestibule’s the first one with the nailed-down floor runner and bells.” Now: “At least I think—”
“So the door from the outside’s the vestibule door and one to the lobby’s the lobby door. That hold true for going out? Lobby door leading to the vestibule still the — well, not important, except for a translator’s zealotism, zealotry—zeal for the exact word. I bet you thought with that last one I wasn’t serious.”
“I didn’t think. Anyhow—”
“Sure: no talk; sleep. I’m sorry, and by nice place downstairs — just to finish this up, so you don’t think I’m altogether bats — I meant old New World New York or something or another. Handsome. Hatful. Tactful. Those aren’t it, blubber blubber, so whatever words I mean.”
“You’re tired.”
“Us both. I’ve kept you up and up. Lucky you’re still talking to me.”
“I don’t know how much longer I can.” Yawns. “There”—another—“see? I’m catching a yawn, and for all I know I’m dreaming in my sleep.”
“If you are, where’s that leave me? Where would I be if—”
“No taxing thoughts. And maybe you should take off your shoes. How’d they get so muddy?”
“And my hands,” untying the shoelaces. “I should also probably leave them in the anteroom do you call this room? The shoe room? You have a newspaper I can put these under?”
“Leave them. I’m doing a big clean-up tomorrow. And this room is my apartment’s equivalent to the downstairs lobby. Or foyer. That’s what this and that one downstairs is. Foyer. No, bring your hands with you. You’ll need them to pull out the couch bed. I haven’t the strength for it anymore.”
Goes, follows. “Hmm, nice room. And nice couch. Don’t worry about sheets or anything. All I need’s a blanket or heavy coat.”
“The bed is already made. And I’d say ‘Let me take your coat,’ or would have in the foyer, but you really don’t have one. You didn’t when you came to Diana’s?”