“Aww, don’t blame that on me. You’re the one who started talking about start speeds. That means you had already experimented with it. And I didn’t buy you that Corvette either.”

I had her cheesing like normal again.

“So, you don’t start shooting until tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah, we have wardrobe tonight, and then we shoot all day with a crowd in the background tomorrow.”

She nodded. “What time is wardrobe?”

“Three to seven.”

We hit the road and headed for my suite at the Hilton. It wasn’t far from the airport.

“You wanna order room service for lunch at your hotel? I really need to talk to you about some of the changes I’ve made in my life.”

I didn’t see anything wrong with that, but her tone was ominous.

“Okay.”

WE ARRIVED at the Hilton, where I checked into my suite on the seventh floor. Lucky me.

Judi walked in, kicked off her shoes, plopped her hat down on the chair, and sat in the middle of my king-size bed, good and comfortable.

“Can you pass me the menu?”

I was still standing, close to the office desk near the window. I grabbed the menu off the desk and tossed it onto the bed.

“Thank you.”

Judi went ahead and ordered a grilled chicken salad, ginger ale, and vanilla ice cream for both of us. Then she patted the bed for me to join her.

That was the kind of woman she was, very self-assured and fluid with her moves. Judi wielded power without much effort. It was just in her to be that way. She was older than most of the other girls I dealt with.

Once I walked over and sat on the bed beside her, she cupped my head in her hands and stared into my eyes. She had me right up close to her. She said, “You know what I decided to do?”

She waited until I asked her, “What?”

“I decided to go celibate.”

I nodded to her. “Congratulations.” I didn’t know what else to say. She made it seem as if celibacy was a major achievement, so I decided to treat it that way.

“How long has it been?” I asked her. I hadn’t touched Judi in that way in over a year. But when you’re a legitimate model like she was, the opportunities to indulge were endless.

She answered, “Six weeks.”

I don’t know if it was just me, but a month and a half would have sounded a lot more solid than six weeks. Six weeks sounded as if she was counting the days, the hours, and the minutes. Compared to six months, or six years, six weeks sounded breakable. But a month and a half, which is essentially the same thing as six weeks, sounded as if you were actually building something.

“Have you ever thought about it?” she asked me.

“Thought about what?”

I knew she wasn’t asking me what I thought she was asking me.

“You know, abstaining from sex.”