“Is that appropriate?”

“In New York City? Yes, absolutely! It’s a custom. It’s how doctors celebrate successful surgeries.”

She pauses. “Well, if it’s a custom, I suppose I can focus on the celebratin’ part instead of the child bein’ saved part.”

“That’s how our womenfolk do it here in New York,” I say, shamelessly. “And the good news is I can be home in 20 minutes!”

“I’ll take a quick shower and be ready when you get here.”

“No. Don’t shower. I want you just the way you are.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do. Absolutely.”

“It’s your party, Gideon, but you should know I ran ten miles in the hot sun, and then worked out in the gym, here in your buildin’. I should shower. Especially since this’ll be our first time.”

“Please don’t. It was a tough surgery. I need a caveman experience.”

“I have no idea what that means, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

4.

THINGS ARE LOOKING up. A few minutes ago I was in the depths of despair. Now I’m on my way home, moments away from Trudy’s loving arms.

Once again, life is good.

Trudy and I haven’t had full-blown sex yet (pardon the pun), but she says she’s quite passionate, and has repeatedly promised to make me happy in the bedroom.

I believe her.

Pretty and sweet as she is, I actually represent a step up in class for her. Growing up in a family and town full of rednecks and drug dealers, Trudy was passed from man to man like a hand-rolled joint in a prison yard.

More than anything in the world she wanted to escape her life in rural Kentucky. Now that she’s moved into my penthouse condo on Columbus Circle, she’s succeeded. She arrived yesterday, after reducing her entire life to four cardboard boxes.

Why didn’t I nail her last night?

I wanted to, but her goal was to unpack every item from every box before retiring, and I fell asleep before she came to bed.

Now, as I enter the foyer, she says, “You’re naked!”

“I stripped in the elevator on the way up, so I wouldn’t have to wait a minute longer than necessary. Check this out,” I say, turning sideways to impress her.

She giggles. “That’s so cute!”

I frown.

“We can shower together first,” she says. “Unless you still want your caveman experience.”

“I do.”

“Well, okay then.”

I clap my hands. “Come to papa!”

“Please don’t say that, Gideon.”

“Why not?”

“You know my birth father did time for messin’ with my sister.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“And my brother.”

“Right…Wait. Your brother? The one you married?”

“We’re gettin’ sidetracked,” she says.

She starts walking toward me, then pivots and runs to the bedroom, laughing. I chase her, catch her from behind, and try to feel her up; but she’s doubled over and giggling so hard it’s nearly impossible. I feel around under her shirt for tits and nips with all the determination of a blind soldier trying to find two live grenades in his foxhole.

I finally strike paydirt.

She lets out a squeal, turns, and jumps on me like a wounded wildcat. We roll around on the bed till I get her clothes off.