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you’re revealing yourself, aren’t you, when you write music? You’re exposing your emotions. Even in a Zweet commercial.”
    â€œYou’re very perceptive,” I told her.
    â€œReally?”
    â€œI wrote that music just after Milka and I broke up. I have to admit I still miss her, in a way. She was lazy, for sure, but she was lots of fun.”
    â€œIt’s a lovely song. I know it’s for toilet freshener, but you could always change the words, couldn’t you?”
    â€œI guess so. Let’s try it.”
    I sang it again, soft and off-key.
“When it’s lunchtime in Manhattan . . . and there’s tuna on your plate . . . when the sparkling wine makes you feel just fine . . . then you know you’ve chosen Kate.”
    She put down her fork, reached across the table and laid her hand on top of mine.
    â€œWhat’s this?” I asked her. The moment was charged with such erotic electricity that I felt as if my hair were standing on end.
    â€œYou know what it is,” she said, and her eyelids were very heavy, almost as if she were falling asleep. “It doesn’t happen very often. But when it does, you
always
know. I turned around, and I saw you looking out of your window, and I knew right away that you were the one. And
you
knew it, too, didn’t you?”
    I thought:
no, I didn’t
. But then I remembered that secretive smile that she had given me, and I thought:
yes, I did
.

Seven
    I hadn’t even made the bed, not properly, just thrown the red and gold tapestry cover over it, so that underneath the sheets were still twisted like the Indian rope-trick and the pillows were all bashed in, but Kate didn’t seem to care.
    She crossed her arms and took off her yellow top. Then she sat back on the bed and pulled off her jeans. Meanwhile I was struggling to get out of my polo-shirt and unbuckle my pants.
    But after that brief moment of frantic comedy, it was beautiful. I fell back onto the bed and Kate climbed on top of me. She was skinnier than any other woman I had ever known, all collarbone and ribs and hips, and her skin was almost translucent. Yet she was so passionate, so greedy. She took my face in both hands and kissed me, thrusting her tongue deep into my mouth. Then she trailed her fingernails all the way down my sides, so that I jerked in nervous reaction when she touched my hips.
    â€œI never thought . . . nobody ever told me,” she panted.
    â€œNobody ever told you what?”
    â€œNobody ever told me this was possible.”
    There she was again, speaking in riddles. But right at that moment I wasn’t looking for logic. The afternoon sun was reflected from an upper window in the Franks Building, like somebody shining a searchlight on her. It lit up her hair, and shone on her shoulders, and gave her an almost unnatural radiance. I felt as if I were making love to a fairy queen, rather than a human being.
    I couldn’t help watching as I entered her, the way the glistening folds of her skin opened up, like dew-soaked lily petals.
    She rode up and down on me, her back arched, her head thrown back, and both hands raised. It was like no lovemaking I had ever experienced. I felt as if our nervous systems were wired together, and that everything that she could feel, I could feel, too. I could almost imagine tiny sparks coursing out of her body and into mine, and making me tingle everywhere.
    She began to gasp, higher and higher. I took hold of her hips, and pulled her down on me, harder and harder. I was very close to climaxing, and I couldn’t stop myself from letting out a loud
haugh
!
    She quaked, and trembled, and then she screamed. At least I think she screamed. It was almost beyond the range of human hearing. The glass of water on the nightstand shattered, and the mirror on the wall cracked diagonally from one side to the other.
    I lifted my head and looked at the broken glass, and the water running off the edge of