“Because our first time should be special. I want you to remember it forever.” Arthur bent over to kiss her. “God, just look at you.” He set the drinks down. Her shirt was scrunched up, and he set his hand on her bare torso. “Is this OK?”

“Yes,” she said. She grinned, thinking she’d die if he didn’t touch her.

“God, I can taste your smile,” he said. He inched the shirt up further, gently lifting her bra over her breasts. He pressed his cheek against her stomach and groaned. His fingers gently circled her nipple. “Oh, Sherri.” He traced a line up the center of her abdomen with the tip of his nose. “I wish you could see yourself. I stood here watching you for the longest time. I have this feeling that I longed for you before we even met. It’s spooky. Do you feel that, too?”

She wasn’t ready to admit to him that she did. She was still trying to sort out who he was and what he possibly saw in her. She felt she was so simple and inexperienced.

“You being here makes this place complete. It’s like this house was waiting for you as much as I was.”

She’d never felt more beautiful than she did in that moment, even though her thighs touched when she walked. Carmen had told Sherri that men don’t notice the things women worry incessantly about; that women are really trying to impress other women. Judging by the expression on Arthur’s face, this had to be true. She had a feeling he could see a kind of beauty in her that Gloria missed.

The other men she’d been with had worked quickly; sex was fast and efficient. Arthur was in no hurry, luxuriating over every inch of her flesh. He took off his shirt. His back was bare and knotted with small muscles. His hand worked its way under the elastic of her underpants. She was embarrassed. That part of her had always been private, but she felt an urgent need for him to get closer, closer, so close that she could become inhabited by him, so close she thought she could die from pleasure.