"Let's just say I heard it. So what's this guy doing all of a sudden
saving U.S. high-tech industry? He's already cost this country tens of
thousands of jobs and literally billions of dollars."
"I don't believe it. I know Ken. Sure, he works for MITI, but his job
is overseeing Japan's own research in supercomputers. He's very proud
of their progress."
Oops. I swirled my snifter. "Whatever you say. If that's really true,
then excuse me. I take it all back."
She looked up--probably not believing my diplomatic reversal--and watched
as I casually slipped my arm around her waist. I couldn't tell if she
wanted it to happen or not.
Thinking I might have some momentum going, I reached back and pulled a
couple of wide cushions off the couch, stationed them by the fire, then
eased us both against them. I tried to do it with naturalness, finesse.
It wasn't happening.
"Matthew, underneath all that unnecessary bluster, which is just as I
remember, you're still a half-decent guy, which I also remember. But I
don't really think this is a good idea." She looked at me, her face
highlighted in the orange glow of the embers.
"I hope it's not because you have other commitments." I heard my voice
harden. "Like maybe in Japan."
"I'm just a little distracted tonight, that's all." She watched as I
trailed a finger around the hard tip of a nipple beneath her shirt.
Gently she moved my hand away. "Don't start."
"Maybe I can at least get a rain check." I retired from the field.
"Possibly." She smiled, then gave me a telling glance. "A while ago you
said something about another place."
My soundproof chamber?
"Right." I rose. "We're always open around here for travelers on a
frosty night." I helped her up. "And for this evening's special
introductory offer, there's a hot tub down the hall. Why don't you let
me fill it, and you can unwind those muscles for a while, Japanese-
style or California-style or whatever. Do you good."
She looked me over a second, then smiled. "Lots of nice, loud running
water?"
"Exactly."
Off we went to the Italian-marble bathroom there off the downstairs
bedroom. I'd installed that little indulgence for Joanna back during
happier times; these days I used it as the world's largest laundry
hamper--ripping it out would have cost a fortune. Jo's revenge, I called
the thing.
She marched in, took a look about the room, which had one of those big
tubs trimmed in redwood, and said it reminded her of a place near Ise.
She did at least have the discretion to omit the circumstances of that
occasion.
What happened next sort of shook my cool, my being a good Texas lapsed-
Baptist. You see, I'd never bought into the nudity-is-wholesome ethic
of the Age of Aquarius. Passed me right by. I mean, where's the fun in
life without a little forbidden fruit? But Tam just began shucking her
clothes. Everything. Kept going till she'd even doffed her little beige
knickers, piling everything one piece at a time in a neat heap on the
counter. Just like that. While bold corporate raider Matt Walton stood
there in terminal astonishment, grasping the edge of the sink as if it
were a life preserver. My nonchalance was an Oscar-winning performance.
Now in the attire God gave her, she calmly inquired if I had any bubble
bath.
"Well, ah, sure, I mean, I suppose so, probably somewhere around here.
If not, there's probably a box of Tide in the basement." I groped
blindly in the cabinet and my hand fell upon a pink bottle whose label
read "Mr. Bubble." What's this? Then I realized it must be some suds
stashed there by Amy. Bet she saw somebody soaking on TV and concluded
that's the way grown-up women behaved. My God, it's in their genes.
Then I turned around.