Nick smiled. "I've never failed a charming and gracious lady before," he said.
"No indeed, I'm sure you haven't," she said, and finished her gin and set the cup down on an ornate oak table.
The butler appeared at the door, and Nick stood up and bowed slightly. "You'll be hearing from me in a week," he said.
Mrs. Dennison smiled and nodded, but did not say anything. Nick followed the butler across the huge room, and out of the apartment. He hurried from the building, and stood under the canopy and saw that the snow had stopped falling and now was piled deep along Park Avenue.
"Cab, sir?" the uniformed doorman asked as he touched the tip of his cap.
"No, I think I'll walk," said Nick.
Nick turned down the sidewalk and took a deep breath of the fresh, cold air and enjoyed the crunch of snow beneath his feet. His feeling of contentment warmed over him and he congratulated himself on the way he had handled Mrs. Dennison. And he had genuinely liked the old lady and her mannerisms and eccentricities were refreshing after the usual Madison Avenue types he dealt with. But he also knew he faced a hell of a challenge to come up with something in a week that satisfied her.
Nick turned a corner and walked east to Lexington Avenue, and went into a bar, ordered a scotch and water and took it back to the phone booth and dialed Julie's number.
She answered before it rang a full time. "How did it go?" she asked.
"Very well," he answered. "She likes me and seems pleased that I'm going to handle the account. But I told her I'd come up with something in a week. Which means it's going to be a hell of a week."
"I'm sure you'll come up with something wonderful, darling," she said.
"I think I should speak with your father," Nick said and took a sip of the scotch.
"Oh, Daddy's out," she said in a husky voice. "He won't be back until very late. I've been sitting here waiting for you, Nick. And do you know what I have on?"
Nick swallowed and poured down the whiskey.
"No, what?" he asked. "Not one thing," she said. "I'm curled up on the big rug in front of the fireplace, and feeling very lonely, since I gave the servants the night off." Nick pictured that small, pale, voluptuous body curled on the rug, with the flames accentuating the black hair and eyes, and lighting up every fabulous hill and valley she possessed.
"Christ, Julie, you pick the strangest times and places to get excited about sleeping with me," he said. "What if your father came back?"
"Oh, he said he'd call first, and we could lock the door," she said. "Aren't you game, Nick? I am. And please darling, don't criticize my whims. You know how difficult it is for me to make love to you at all before we're married. Tonight though, with the snow and the fire and a few martinis, I feel very much like your wife."
A few martinis, Nick said to himself. Yes, it took alcohol to make Julie a wild, warm lover. "Listen, darling," he said. "You know how urgent this Dennison account is, and I've got an early morning meeting to hand over the Jarvis account."
"And you've just got to dash home and work all night," she interrupted.
"That's what you get for loving a working man," he said, and drained his drink.
"Sometimes I hate my father and that damned agency," she said. "Why does he have to give you all the tough jobs? It isn't fair, Nick, really it isn't."
"We could move the wedding up," he said. "Skip all the formalities, just run down to City Hall in a few days. Then there would be no more cold, lonely nights for us."
"Oh Nickie, now don't start that again," she said. "You know how much a big wedding means to Daddy and to me, and mother would roll over in her grave if she thought I'd get married at City Hall."
"Julie, just let me get things wrapped up tonight," he said, and again visualized that body lit by the fire. "Tomorrow night you can meet me after work and we'll have all evening together."
"You promise, now, Nickie, job or no job," she said.
"I promise," he said. "Now I've got to run. I love you, Julie."
"I love you too, darling," she said.
Nick hung up and went to the bar and had another quick scotch and water. He was glowing with whiskey-warmth and self-satisfaction as he stepped back into the cold and crunched through the snow.
Lights glistened red and green and yellow on the white snow and cars made peaceful, purring sounds on the snow-rutted street. Nick moved along and thought how well things were going, with his coming marriage to Julie, his initial success with Mrs. Dennison and the obvious possibility that one day he would be sitting in the enormous, nostalgia-filled office, running Connors and Ross.
He turned a corner and nearly slipped on a patch of ice and caught himself on an ice-slick street sign. Then he walked carefully down the street and thought how when he and Julie were married he would make certain Julie became the kind of lover who never needed a drink, or anything else, to turn her loose and wild in bed.
The wind whipped up now and blew snow in Nick's face, and he turned up the collar of his coat and felt a little chilled. And for the first time since Mrs. Dennison's, he remembered that a seventeen year-old girl was spending the night in his apartment.
He stopped abruptly and again he nearly slipped on a patch of ice. Christ, he muttered to himself. He had really been a fool to let the girl stay there, no matter how miserable and lonely she was. If Julie or her father ever discovered that she was sleeping there tonight, everything he had worked for and wanted would be dashed in an instant.
He hurried home, anxious to see the girl again and make it damned clear that she had to be out early tomorrow morning. He was filled with apprehension as he opened his door, and he told himself he had been a real fool to let his compassion endanger him the way he had.
The apartment was dark, and for an instant he thought she might be gone. But he switched on the light and saw her blouse by the bedroom door. And as he stepped across the room, he saw that there was a bottle of scotch on the coffee table in front of the couch. He picked up the bottle which had been nearly full when he last saw it. Now it was one third gone.
Nick shoved open the bathroom door, and in the moonlight he saw a skirt, a white bra and a pair of tiny, white panties, a direct trail to the bed, where Holly was sleeping.
Nick stepped closer, and stopped beside the bed. Holly was naked and even in the faint moonlight, Nick could see the vivid contrast of her golden body against the white sheets.
The curve of her back was lovely, and Nick took a deep breath and stared down at her luscious buttocks and her slim legs. And just as he turned, he heard her twisting on the bed and looked around as she shifted over onto her back.
Nick could not believe the loveliness of her lush body, spread golden and young on the bed beneath him, and he bent down and stared with fascination and let himself touch her leg an instant. The skin had a fantastic texture and seemed liquid-warm and alive.
Nick shook his head and smiled to himself and stood up. Holly twisted again in a way that emphasized the enormous breasts with huge dark brown nipples. And then her lips fell open and she muttered something, and her tongue licked at her lips.
Nick stared a moment more, then turned and left the room. He went quickly to the bottle of scotch and poured a double shot and gulped it down. His finger seemed glowing with warmth from touching her leg and he imagined possessing that young, vibrant body fully, and went warm all over at the thought.
Christ, he mumbled, and shook his head. Just thinking of her that way was stupid, he told himself. Tomorrow she would be gone, and he would have only Julie to think about. Julie and his future, which at this point seemed perfect and unlimited.