She gave a gentle laugh; he realised it was the first time he had heard the guttural sound come up from the depth of her throat. Somehow, it had always stayed on the surface. He thought that if it was louder it could be a really expansive, joyous, infectious laugh. A laugh of pure fun, of not caring, of freedom. He thought he loved it. He knew he loved it. She was a person who most definitely knew how to have a good time.

And he, at that moment, wanted to be the one to share those good times. He found himself laughing too, he turned and thanked her for the most deliciously entertaining evening. He thought of the times in life he had said those words; he felt a pure satisfaction that tonight he really meant them.

They departed down the red carpet, he had the three points locked in his memory bank, unsure why they were there or what relevance they had, and anyway the points had been wined and dined.

They’d be gone in the morning.

As they opened the big brown door she asked if he would be kind enough to escort her to her room.

They walked, as was the established custom; she grasped his arm and at the door of the bedroom, she said, in an inconsequential way,

‘Please hold me tight as you say goodnight, my sweet.’

He did, whispering the word in her ear as a definite two.

‘Good.’

Pause.

‘Night.’

They held their closeness for what seemed a time, a long time; he took in the feel of hair against his cheek and his hands remained politely just below her shoulders. He allowed himself the luxury of breathing in her exquisite air and was captured by the closeness in a halo of light that glowed around them, it seemed as a protection from anything the world might throw at them.

A glow.

Then they moved apart with a momentary look into each other’s eyes, as if acknowledging the aura they had created. He walked to the door that would take him, rather light-headed, to his waiting warm and murmuring car.

A car that would transport him hopefully to his destination. Lomita was saying, thank you and goodnight, he sensed her warm smile, knew she was still looking at him during his traverse across the room, he didn’t turn around, he couldn’t, but closed the front door, and climbing into his car his hand went to his erection.

Just an adjustment.

He had had an erection while he held her, was she aware and had the thank you, which he sensed was spoken with a smile, been an acknowledgement of the fact? The fact of the erection, his mind fixed on that being the only possibility or, the thought poleaxed him, was it just plain embarrassing?

*

He drove with the desire to masturbate the fantasy of Lomita out of his brain.