“And we’d tell him we’d send him an autographed copy of our report.”

“We’d dedicate it to him!”

They both laughed, and Ellen said, “What about after we registered?”

“Well, we’d drive to wherever our room was, scout around to see if anyone seemed to be in the rooms nearby—unless we had a cabin to ourselves—and then go inside.”

“And then?”

“That’s when our options broaden. I’d probably be so turned on that I’d grab you, let you have it—maybe on the bed, maybe not. That time would be my time. Your time would come later.”

“What do you mean?”

“The first time would be out of control—a slam-bam-thank-you-ma’am deal. After that, I’d have more control, and the second time I could prepare you.”

“How would you do that?”

“With delicacy and finesse.”

The waitress was approaching the table, so they sat back and stopped talking.

“Will there be anything else?”

“No,” said Hooper. “Just the check.”

Ellen assumed that the waitress would return to the bar to total the bill, but she stood at the table, scribbling and carrying her ones. Ellen slid to the edge of the seat and said as she stood up, “Excuse me. I want to powder my nose before we go.”

“I know,” said Hooper, smiling.

“You do?” said the waitress as Ellen passed her. “Boy, that’s what marriage will do for you. I hope nobody ever knows me that well.”

Ellen arrived home a little before 4:30. She went upstairs, into the bathroom, and turned on the water in the tub. She took off all her clothes and stuffed them into the laundry hamper, mixing them with the clothes already in the hamper. She looked in the mirror and examined her face and neck. No marks.

After her bath, she powdered herself, brushed her teeth, and gargled with mouthwash. She went into the bedroom, put on a fresh pair of underpants and a nightgown, pulled back the bedclothes and climbed into bed. She closed her eyes, hoping that sleep would pounce upon her.

But sleep could not overpower a memory that kept sliding into her mind. It was a vision of Hooper, eyes wide and staring—but unseeing—at the wall as he approached climax. The eyes seemed to bulge until, just before release, Ellen had feared they might actually pop out of their sockets. Hooper’s teeth were clenched, and he ground them the way people do during sleep. From his voice there came a gurgling whine, whose tone rose higher and higher with each frenzied thrust. Even after his obvious, violent climax, Hooper’s countenance had not changed. His teeth were still clenched, his eyes still fixed on the wall, and he continued to pump madly. He was oblivious of the being beneath him, and when, perhaps a full minute after his climax, Hooper still did not relax, Ellen had become afraid—of what, she wasn’t sure, but the ferocity and intensity of his assault seemed to her a pursuit in which she was only a vehicle. After a while, she had tapped him on the back and said softly, “Hey, I’m here too,” and in a moment his eyelids closed and his head dropped to her shoulder. Later, during their subsequent coupling, Hooper had been more gentle, more controlled, less detached. But the fury of the first encounter still lingered disturbingly in Ellen’s mind.