They didn’t, again. Bill wanted to, Beverly wanted to, but she was still conflicted. When she dropped trou, she smiled at Bill, did a full turnaround, shifted and moved so he could see all there was to see. Then she stepped up to him where he sat, stood on the step below him.
“Like what you see?”
“That a real question?”
“I thought it was.”
“You thought you had to ask?”
“Is that a yes, you like what you see?”
“You really want an answer?”
“Yes. Say it.”
“I like what I see.”
“Show me.”
Bill leaned forward and put his arms around her clasping his hands on her buttocks. He knew what to do. He knew how to do it. He’d done it many, many times before, sometimes better, sometimes worse, always happily. He was happy to do it this time too, and this time much as he enjoyed it, he tried that much more to make it so she especially enjoyed it.
When it was done, she didn’t say anything at first. She didn’t have to say anything. They were both married people, just not to each other. He knew he’d pleased her. He knew, as they say, it was mission completed. He knew when it was mission completed too, and he pushed a little further to see if it would be mission completed more than once, which it ended up being. Then it all ended with a nice, friendly kiss.
“That was great,” she said only after she was completely put back together.
“I pass the test?”
“A+.”
“I wouldn’t have anything less.”
“You won’t need protection,” Beverly said.
Bill didn’t say anything. He had stood and was tying his apron around him.
“No comment?” Beverly asked.
“What’s to say?”
“Next time, honey. Any way you like.”
“When our schedules work,” Bill said.
We need a signal,” Beverly said.
“Got one in mind?”
“Easy one,” Beverly said. “I’ll wear two earrings in my left ear. I’ll wear one complete pair and an extra in the left.”
“Got it.”
“Good.”
They were both dressed, straightened up and put wholly back together. They kissed, softly, friendly-like.
“I like you,” Bill said.
“Me too. But we don’t have to live together.”
“Thank God.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Means I’m not married but a short while and I’m sure I shouldn’t be married at all.”
“Me too,” Beverly said. Then, “Listen,” she said, “I’m gonna show you a way to go so you come out by the locker room. I’ll wait about twenty minutes and come out by the employee cafeteria.”
“That’s good. Hope you have a good night.”
“You too. You off tomorrow?”
“Yeah. First day off in a bit and not off again for two more weeks.”
“Christmas season,” Beverly said. “Get’s crazy here.”
“That good?”
“I’ll make a lot of money. That’s good.”
All-but. When he left Beverly Bill was thinking about Arlene. They ended up good friends and that wasn’t all they were. Arlene had tough stuff in her life back then, complicated situations, emotional ones. They were friends, they were intimate friends, they were close emotionally and spiritually. When Bill got married they’d stopped the physical intimacy beyond holding one another. But that had led from one thing to another, and another had led to all-but. All-but was sufficient only for a little while.
All-but. Arlene, Beverly, situations and life stuff.
Up that ramp to The Falstaff Room pantry area and kitchen were Rosie and Edelgarde.
When it rained it poured. And it was pouring. It had been pouring since that night he’d spilled soup on the customer, his first night as a busboy, when the customer had laced it into the waitress with a vulgarity not worthy of any situation. Accidents, and it was an accident, happened.
Defending that waitress, even though it meant losing his job, what would have meant losing his job if he hadn’t known Robert, had started the rain. Rain and more rain.
