Naked Came the Stranger - By Penelope Ashe Page 0,41

Inn. The restaurant was decorated in a manner supposedly similar to what you might find in the French provinces, a fact that escaped most of its expense-account clientele. Marvin steered Gillian to the heavy oak bar.

"First," he said, "let's take care of the thirst."

"Martini," said Gillian.

"Two of them," he told the bartender. "Bone-dry."

"On the rocks or up?" the bartender said.

Marvin looked at Gillian, who signaled up with her thumb. Marvin did the same, and Gillian closed her hand gently over Marvin's upturned thumb.

"Got you, lover," she said in a low voice. Marvin, by way of answer, began moving his thumb slowly up and down inside her closed fist. "Mmmmmm. I'll bet they call you Marvelous Marv."

"No," he said. "No, they never have."

"Maybe they don't see what I see," Gillian said.

"Maybe they don't," he said. "Maybe that's what's bothering me. Things like this don't happen to me. They never happen to me. Why me? Why should this be happening to me all of a sudden?"

"Drink up, Marvelous Marv," she said. "Maybe you have something that I want. Maybe this kind of thing has never happened to me either."

They stayed long enough for a second martini. Marvin, euphoric from a combination of the alcohol and the prospect that lay ahead, left the grinning bartender a dollar tip. They climbed back into the Cadillac and continued north on the Hutchinson River Parkway. The next time Marvin glanced at his gold-banded watch it was nearly three o'clock and he realized they had not yet eaten lunch. They were almost in Connecticut when he pulled off the Parkway a second time. This time he followed a network of local roads into Bedford Village and eventually to La Cremaillere, a restaurant that Holiday Magazine had described as "distinguished," a restaurant that Helene had begged to visit. Well, the hell with Helene.

Lunch, if a trifle rich, was distinguished. And with a half bottle of vintage Chablis lulling his senses, Marvin for once forgot to tally up the bill, which he drowsily noted approached $25. And $5 for the young lady who offered such impeccable service. And another loose bill for the excellent young man who went to fetch the car.

"How do you feel now?" he asked Gillian.

"I'm not thirsty," she said. "And I'm not hungry. Let me see, was there something else?"

"It'll come to you." Marvin ran his free hand down her side and let it come to rest on her hip. "What you need is a conducive atmosphere. I think we passed one a few miles back."

"The one with the Vacancy sign?"

"That was the one."

It was all going incredibly well, Marvin thought. Too well, really. The idea that it was going perfectly sent him into a momentary panic. Something had to go wrong. Something would go wrong. Stop that! Stop thinking like a loser. That's all over now. Everything's perfect and everything will be perfect.

The panic soon dissolved as Gillian rested her head against Marvin's shoulder and traced the creases in his slacks. She started at the knees and worked her way up. Her touch excited Marvin immediately and Gillian traced the swelling outline, gently, gently, until Marvin felt the blood pounding against his temples.

"Marvelous Marv," she said, "so full of surprises."

When they reached the motel, Marvin noted with gratitude that there was a drive-in window for registering guests. He couldn't have left the car at that moment in any circumstances. His slacks still bulged from Gillian's gentle, skillful and persistent manipulations. The motel owner, a soft-spoken country man with leather elbow patches on his tweed jacket, accepted without comment the registration blank that carried the name "Milton Silver" and the "MG-1" license plate.

"That'll be $20 for the double," he said.

Marvin reached into his wallet, extracted the single remaining bill, handed it over.

"And ten more, young fellow," the owner said.

Marvin looked at the bill and went white. It was a ten. He had tipped the young man at the parking lot ten dollars instead of one! God, God, God – it had to happen!

"I seem to be momentarily short of funds," he said.

"You don't happen to have anything for ten dollars?"

"Might have if you were alone," the man said. "But the best I can do for you and your lady friend is $16." Marvin took the bill without a word, jammed the car into reverse, screeched out of the graveled parking area.

"Damn it," he said. "Damn it – I knew it!"

"Don't be like that, Marvin," Gillian said. Her finger resumed its tracing efforts, but the swelling