And we had gone over 100 mph together.
We ducked in a boutique that looked like a German version of the Gap. It looked like a nice boutique. I had trouble gauging anything for the time being. As soon as we entered, a German salesclerk asked if she could help me find anything. She spoke beautiful English. I didn’t answer right away. Jack stepped up for me.
“We need something for her to wear to dinner. And maybe some basic things for day wear.”
“Yes, of course. This way.”
I looked at Jack. He looked at me and smiled. Who is this man? I thought. Then we followed the clerk, whose name, we learned a few minutes later, was Gilda. She had shiny black hair worn close to her head. I liked her boots.
We spent an hour shopping. I attempted to recall, as I tried things on and wore them out of the dressing rooms for Jack—spin, yes, nice, okay, does it ride up, is it the right length—if I had ever shopped with a man. The answer, I was fairly certain, was a definitive no. No way. But I liked shopping with Jack. I liked slipping into something, hearing his voice speaking to Gilda, then being astonished that he had a good eye when I came out and examined the dress in the three-way mirror. Moreover, he liked clothes, or at least liked seeing me in clothes, because before the hour had passed I had tried on at least a dozen dresses and day outfits. It was sexy, too, modeling for him. He watched me, but it was not all about the dresses.
“This is very strange,” I said to him when we decided finally on a confetti fit-and-flare dress that swung flirtatiously whenever I moved. I liked the dress, and Jack liked the dress, and I liked that we liked the same thing. “I’ve never shopped with a man before. Do you really like to shop with women?”
“Not really. I like shopping with you. Shouldn’t we get you some other things?”
“I’m going to wear this until you get sick of seeing me in it. We’re going back tomorrow, right?”
“Yes.”
“I can make it through the night with what I have.”
We kissed while we waited for Gilda to price out everything and bag it. We kissed again out on the street. I made Jack wait while I called Constance. I didn’t want her to think I had been abducted. But she answered calmly and revealed no surprise when I told her I was with Jack in another part of the city.
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m glad you’re together with him,” she said. “Even though you hate him, of course.”
“You told him where I was.”
“I thought you could always say no if you truly didn’t want to see him.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I found Jack in the hotel lobby. He didn’t say anything. He took my hand and led me to the elevator bank. He held my hand as we waited. When the elevator doors opened, we stepped inside. It was a nice elevator, heavy and solid, with a brass rail that went around the interior at waist height. As soon as the door closed behind us, Jack pulled me into his arms and kissed me. It was more than a kiss, really. He devoured me. He pressed me back against the wall, and for a little while his hands traveled as they liked over my body. But we did not cease kissing, not for an instant, and when the elevator finally stopped, I had to put my hand out against the wall to steady myself.
“Best elevator ride ever,” Jack said.
I nodded. I couldn’t trust myself to speak.
He took my hand and led me down a carpeted hallway. I admitted to myself, as I walked beside him, that there was something about the anonymity of a hotel that aroused me. No one knew us. We were answerable to no one. I held his hand tightly. He managed the room door without letting go of my fingers.
We stepped inside, and he closed the door behind us. The room was lovely; the bedspread possessed a golden shimmer that might have been horrible in a lesser hotel, but the quality was good, and it worked. The carpet, dove colored, was thick and silent. Jack crossed the room and opened the curtains. We could see the Brandenburg Gate, though not fully on. It was a sideways view, merely a glimpse, but Jack asked me to come closer, and I did. He held me against him from behind. He kissed my neck.
And that was nearly unbearable.
“I’m going to shower,” I whispered, my body churning, his lips on my shoulders now and back to my neck. “I have to shower.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do. But I am a fast shower-er. Trust me. I won’t wash my hair or do anything else, but I need to rinse off.”
“Okay, yes.”
“Then I want to kiss you for a long time. Would that be all right?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I think we made a mistake buying the dress.”
“Why?”
His lips did not leave my neck. I felt my body turning slowly to syrup.
“Because I don’t think we’re going to dinner. I don’t think we’re going anywhere. I think this is our world, and we don’t have to leave it.”
He nodded against my neck.
“Okay,” he said.
I pressed back into him. He was Jack. He was the perfect size for me. I slowly peeled his arms away and then turned and kissed him. It was an afternoon in Berlin, Germany.
*
The Hotel Adlon Kempinski should have won an award for the greatest terry cloth robes ever manufactured by human hands. I found two robes in the bathroom. I took the smaller one and put it on. That was all I put on. Then I went back into the main room and found Jack sitting in an enormous armchair turned to overlook the window. I made myself slow down to take in the sight of him sitting there. He had turned down the lights; or he had decided not to turn on the lights at all. A quiet gray-blue light suffused everything.
He pulled me firmly onto his lap, and I had to make a quick catch at the hem of my robe to keep it closed. Then his lips kissed mine. He kissed me gently and slowly, and for a long time that was all that happened. I couldn’t believe how easily I fit on his lap. He kissed me again and again, and after a while our lips seemed to gain knowledge of their own. I felt the moisture of my skin from the hot shower, and I felt his body responding to mine.
After a time, he reached down and undid the belt to the robe.