She laughs, gives him directions as he positions the mirror. “Down a little. There, that’s good.” Quickly they are back at it, across the bed so they can both look to the side and see the mirror, where their twins thrash away. It’s disconcerting to have the twins looking back at them, but interesting too, and Jim can’t help grinning lasciviously at himself. The image itself is different also, the video’s softness and depth of field replaced by a hard, silvered, glossy materiality, as if they’ve got a window here and are spying on a couple in some more glassy world.

When they’re done, Jim drawls “Pret-ty kink-y.” And can’t help laughing.

Virginia isn’t amused. “I’ll have to get the repairmen by to fix it, and I hate that. It’s always, ‘Excuse me, ma’am, but we need a test of some kind to see if the system’s working.’”

Jim laughs. “You should tell them to fuck themselves, make that the test.”

Virginia scowls. “They probably would, the perverts.”

Well, okay. Now that they’re done, Virginia gets restless. Appears she still wants to party some more. Jim’s agreeable, whatever this beautiful new friend likes is fine by him. He likes to party too. So soon they’re up, dressed, back to Sandy’s.

Chapter 7

7

On the way up to Sandy’s they run into Arthur Bastanchury, who is returning to the party’s end carrying a big over-the-shoulder bag. Jim is uncomfortable, here he’s just gone to bed with Arthur’s ex-ally and who knows what’s still going on between them, really. But both Virginia and Arthur are cool, and after they go inside and sit in the video room and chat for a while about what’s on the screens, Jim relaxes too. We’re in the postmodern world, he reminds himself, alliances are no more than that: every person is a sovereign entity, free to do what they want. No reason to feel any unease.

Sandy and Angela, Tashi and Erica come out of the jacuzzi room wrapped in big thick white towels, steaming faintly. They go on into the kitchen to rustle up a late-night snack. Arthur puts his bag on the floor and opens it, begins to arrange things inside. “So are you coming with me?” he shouts into the kitchen.

“Not tonight,” Sandy calls back in. “I’m beat.” No word from the others. Arthur makes a face. “Ginny?”

Virginia shakes her head. “’Fraid not, Art. I told you before, I think it’s a waste of time.”

Arthur looks disgusted with her, and abruptly she gets up and walks into the kitchen, where their friends are laughing over something Sandy has done or said. Ruefully Arthur shakes his head: he’s going to have to go it alone again, the expression says.

“What’s a waste of time?” Jim asks.