woman in Tesco livery emerged from a door, holding a prod pole. At this point discretion checkmated valour. I left the water undrunk and slipped away.
I ate another salameat on the walk home. It had rained during my time in the supermarket, andthe streetlights gleamed oilily off the wet roads. I stood beneath a dripping acacia and drank some more of the whisky. Finally I decided it was time to return to my hotel. I’d hoped I had left enough time for Mrs Grigson to have taken herself off to bed, or to wherever in her hotel she enjoyed alone-time, but she was waiting for me when I came through the front door.
‘Mr Penhaligon,’ shesaid.
‘Mrs Grigson,’ I said.
‘I have further considered your offer and, on balance, wish to take advantage of it.’
‘Oh!’ I said. ‘Ah.’ It took me a moment to digest what she was saying. ‘Well, all right!’ Then, as all the implications of her words sank in, I said: ‘You have decided on balance ?’
‘I do not like beards,’ she informed me. ‘Accordingly, I shall make it a conditionof accepting your proposition that you do not attempt to kiss me.’
Had I been more sober, I might have let my resentment at her haughtiness provoke me to some rebuke, even at the risk of forfeiting the chance of sex. But there was enough cheap whisky in my system to mollify me; and it had been a long time since I had spent any time in the land of intercourse. So, rather idiotically, I said:‘I’m not wedded to the beard. I could shave it off.’
‘You have a razor?’
‘I have no razor. Hence the beard. I must, perforce, travel light.’ Even as I said this, I found myself thinking to myself: perforce ? Truth is: my inner gyroscope was tilted a long way over. This feeling might have been— Let me think. Might it have been exhilaration ?
‘You may use my husband’s razor if youwish,’ she said.
‘He won’t mind,’ I said. She peered at me, checking to see whether I meant this as a question. I didn’t, but she answered it anyway.
‘He has been absent three years. He is not coming back; and were he to do so, I would not let him in the building.’
‘Very well,’ I said. And then, to leaven the pomposity that seemed to have crept into my manner, I added: ‘All righty-tighty.’Then I winced at my own idiocy.
‘Please take a shower, also,’ she said. ‘Cleanness is important to me.’
‘I have showered once this evening already,’ I told her.
‘Cleanness is important to me,’ she repeated.
So I followed her up three flights of stairs to her rooms at the top of the building. I was starting to believe that there were no other guests in the hotel. We wentinto her apartment. Her pet cat eyed me suspiciously from a basket in the corner of the bedroom as I passed through to the bathroom. Anne had to retrieve her husband’s razor from a locked plastic storage crate in a cupboard – an old-fashioned Araze model, but it buzzed through the facial hair swiftly enough. She left me alone to undress. There were three bottles of the same brand of showersoap standingon the windowsill; the gloop inside each was the colour of the Mediterranean as displayed in those maps displaying the topography of the Holy Land you find at the end of Bibles.
Lacking a brush, I squeezed a little toothpaste onto my finger and cleaned my teeth manually. Then I climbed into her shower and let the water zizz me for a while. The shadowy outline of a human being appeared, likeNorman Bates, in the frosted glass – Anne herself, naked, sliding the door aside to step into the shower with me. She washed me carefully, which I enjoyed a great deal; and she submitted to being washed herself, which I also thoroughly enjoyed. Then the two of us went through to her bedroom and lay on her bed together. We went through the usual writhings. She used my face as a saddle, grindingherself against me in a rhythm that picked up tempo steadily until the crucial tipping point was reached. Then there was a hiatus as
I ate another salameat on the walk home. It had rained during my time in the supermarket, andthe streetlights gleamed oilily off the wet roads. I stood beneath a dripping acacia and drank some more of the whisky. Finally I decided it was time to return to my hotel. I’d hoped I had left enough time for Mrs Grigson to have taken herself off to bed, or to wherever in her hotel she enjoyed alone-time, but she was waiting for me when I came through the front door.
‘Mr Penhaligon,’ shesaid.
‘Mrs Grigson,’ I said.
‘I have further considered your offer and, on balance, wish to take advantage of it.’
‘Oh!’ I said. ‘Ah.’ It took me a moment to digest what she was saying. ‘Well, all right!’ Then, as all the implications of her words sank in, I said: ‘You have decided on balance ?’
‘I do not like beards,’ she informed me. ‘Accordingly, I shall make it a conditionof accepting your proposition that you do not attempt to kiss me.’
Had I been more sober, I might have let my resentment at her haughtiness provoke me to some rebuke, even at the risk of forfeiting the chance of sex. But there was enough cheap whisky in my system to mollify me; and it had been a long time since I had spent any time in the land of intercourse. So, rather idiotically, I said:‘I’m not wedded to the beard. I could shave it off.’
‘You have a razor?’
‘I have no razor. Hence the beard. I must, perforce, travel light.’ Even as I said this, I found myself thinking to myself: perforce ? Truth is: my inner gyroscope was tilted a long way over. This feeling might have been— Let me think. Might it have been exhilaration ?
‘You may use my husband’s razor if youwish,’ she said.
‘He won’t mind,’ I said. She peered at me, checking to see whether I meant this as a question. I didn’t, but she answered it anyway.
‘He has been absent three years. He is not coming back; and were he to do so, I would not let him in the building.’
‘Very well,’ I said. And then, to leaven the pomposity that seemed to have crept into my manner, I added: ‘All righty-tighty.’Then I winced at my own idiocy.
‘Please take a shower, also,’ she said. ‘Cleanness is important to me.’
‘I have showered once this evening already,’ I told her.
‘Cleanness is important to me,’ she repeated.
So I followed her up three flights of stairs to her rooms at the top of the building. I was starting to believe that there were no other guests in the hotel. We wentinto her apartment. Her pet cat eyed me suspiciously from a basket in the corner of the bedroom as I passed through to the bathroom. Anne had to retrieve her husband’s razor from a locked plastic storage crate in a cupboard – an old-fashioned Araze model, but it buzzed through the facial hair swiftly enough. She left me alone to undress. There were three bottles of the same brand of showersoap standingon the windowsill; the gloop inside each was the colour of the Mediterranean as displayed in those maps displaying the topography of the Holy Land you find at the end of Bibles.
Lacking a brush, I squeezed a little toothpaste onto my finger and cleaned my teeth manually. Then I climbed into her shower and let the water zizz me for a while. The shadowy outline of a human being appeared, likeNorman Bates, in the frosted glass – Anne herself, naked, sliding the door aside to step into the shower with me. She washed me carefully, which I enjoyed a great deal; and she submitted to being washed herself, which I also thoroughly enjoyed. Then the two of us went through to her bedroom and lay on her bed together. We went through the usual writhings. She used my face as a saddle, grindingherself against me in a rhythm that picked up tempo steadily until the crucial tipping point was reached. Then there was a hiatus as
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