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could I help? I clung to him, giving him the inside of me, more, more, and still more—until I felt him convulse above me and sensed his heated flow within me. The paradisiac end—but no, not yet. He continued to fill me, seemingly without end. At long last, we both were still. How long before he rolled off to lie beside me, face-to-face, still joined? We kissed. Kissed again. Slept.
    When I awoke, I heard sounds in the kitchen. I got out of bed, looked at the sharp red-lighted figures on the digital clock: 7:40. I brushed my hair, put on a dressing gown, and went out to the kitchen. There he stood, stark naked—stirring a stew with great concentration.
    I embraced him and wondered if it was too early to fall in love.
    My reverie on the subject of Jean-Pierre was interrupted by a voice:
    “Hey, Midge! Can we sit here with you? The jerk was supposed to hold a table, so naturally he didn’t, and we’re gonna be late?”
    Russ and Buddy. Was he wearing makeup?
    “Of course,” I said. “Help yourself.”
    They sat down, next to one another, not with me in the middle.
    Jean-Pierre would not like this picture, I thought.
    They whispered together for a rude minute, then remembered I was at the table with them.
    They ordered. Beef stew. I thought of Jean-Pierre again.
    “Fasten your seat belts,” said Russ. “Turbulence ahead.”
    “Already?” asked Buddy. “It’s ahead of sked.”
    “My ol’ faithful Larry,” said Russ. “Coming on too strong again. I tell him. Does he listen? What the hell, I’m only a pipsqueak assistant, so what do I know?”
    “I’ll tell you one thing,” said Buddy. “And you can tell him . Jenny’s not going to take any shit this time. Excuse me, Midge. I forgot you were here.”
    “What makes you think I am?” I asked.
    “Didn’t you feel some of it over there today?” asked Russ, looking at me.
    “Some of what?”
    “The bristles. The hackles.”
    “No. It just looked to me as though everyone’s trying to get their own way. I’m used to that.”
    “Yuh,” said Buddy. “But who does , in the end? That’s the big question.”
    “The way I read it,” says Russ, “Jenny’s cucumber-cool.”
    “For the present,” said Buddy. “This is my fifth show with her. She always starts like this. Watches the weather. Just see to it your man doesn’t make it too rough or he’s the one liable to find himself overboard. There are certain things I could say, points I could make, but I won’t. Not right now.”
    “Why not right now?” asked Russ.
    “Frankly?”
    “Frankly.”
    “I don’t know you well enough, either of you—to open up. Maybe someday I will.”
    “But maybe someday’ll turn out to be too late,” said Russ.
    “For what?”
    “To save an ass or two.”
    “Don’t worry about that, sugar. Before the curtain goes up on this thing opening night, there’re going to be a lot of asses lost. I’ve never seen it fail. Have you?”
    “Depends which asses. If they lose the wrong ones—it can mean the difference between smash or bomb.”
    “Sure—but there’s only one ass I’m interested in. Mine.”
    “Oh, really? I thought it was mine.”
    As they giggled, ridiculously, I realized they had forgotten I was there. This being the case, I paid my check, left a tip, and went out.
    Forty-five minutes later. I am at the desk in the middle of the auditorium again, making some calls for AC. Russ comes in, plops down beside me and asks, “What happened to you ?”
    “I left.”
    “I realize that, dummy. I’m not blind—just deaf and dumb. But did we say something? Or what?”
    “Or what.”
    “Come on, Midge. Don’t hassle me. We’ve got to be a team. You’ll see. It’ll be better that way.”
    “All right.”
    “Buddy thought maybe you got teed off on account of us kidding around.”
    “Good God, no.”
    “ You know. It doesn’t mean a thing around here. Anybody says anything.”
    “You mean nothing ever means anything.”
    “Well,