"Yes," she said. "More." Crack. He fell forward sobbing, helpless, howling each time she struck him. He cried so convulsively, so hard, that he didn't register the moment when she stopped and began to rub his shoulders, comforting him. He hadn't cried like that since he was a baby.
"Get up on the bed and turn over." She took off her jeans and panties, put them on the chair, and came back from the dresser with a condom. Oliver lay on his back, numb and floating, as she teased and rolled the condom into place. Her eyes were huge as she straddled him. "Fifty," she said.
He wiggled into position and gave himself to her voice and the long slow thrusts of her body. At thirty, her voice cracked. By forty, she was whispering and beginning to tremble. At forty-five, she gasped sharply and slumped forward. She caught and braced herself with her hands on his shoulders, crying out with each new number as he strained up into her. At fifty, he exploded; a blind white jet took them drenched and mingled into the universe. He heard her laughing in the nebulae, and then he collapsed. She lowered herself forward. A button dug into his chest. Her hair pressed against his cheek. Awkwardly, he brought his arms over her head and cradled her as best he could.
She was half off when he awoke. She removed the condom and came back wearing a white bathrobe. "You are beautiful," she said, pulling tight the cotton belt of her robe. He felt his cheeks glowing. "Beautiful. Would you like some tea?"
"No, thank you." She nodded and released the handcuffs. He dressed slowly, feeling each movement of his body as though it were for the first time. Jacky watched silently. He always left as soon as he was dressed. "Good night—Mistress." His voice was quiet.
"Behave yourself," she said, looking at him thoughtfully.
He was on the bridge before he realized that he was driving and had better be careful. He was hungry. Alberta's. Why not? He found a parking spot, walked into his favorite restaurant, and got the last open table, in a far corner of the upper level.
"How are we, tonight?" Claudine asked, smiling broadly. She knew perfectly well. Women always do. Oliver imagined a sign over his head, visible only to females: "Spent Male."
"Hungry," he said.
"You've come to the right place. Good halibut tonight, lime and ginger sauce."