fault, Donna added a complimentary massage to his salon visit. While he sat in the massage chair, he thought he was in heaven. Her angelic hands caressed and kindled his body, stoking the fire of love, and he didn’t have to pay a dime.
“I’m so glad I came in today,” he sighed through the hole of the chair’s headrest.
“The mud didn’t taste that bad?”
“I can’t complain. I got this free massage.”
“You have some big knots in your neck,” she pointed out, as she worked in that area.
“Gifts from China,” he said.
“What?” She didn’t understand.
“I had a Chinese girlfriend, a doctor. She’s highly skilled at inflicting pain and stress.”
“She’s a doctor? Sounds like she’s in the wrong profession.”
“She likes sticking needles in people. She thinks those tiny needles do something.”
“Oh, I see.”
“I wouldn’t let her stick her needles in me. We just argued. That was enough of her medicine for me. She’s crazy.”
“I’ve never tried acupuncture.”
“Don’t. It doesn’t work. I don’t know why she has so many patients. Her prices are higher than a regular doctor’s.”
“Maybe her patients are mostly Asian.”
“Maybe. You’re so different from her. So caring, so compassionate.”
“How can you tell?”
“I can tell. You’re very perceptive. A deep feeler. Just like me.” Bill wasn’t babbling his usual lover’s mush. He actually thought what he said was true.
“Flattery doesn’t work on me. I’m too old to blush.”
“Nonsense. You don’t look a day over forty.”
“Please. You’re going to give me a fat head.” Her head was rather oversized already.
“I’m serious. And you know what? I want to see you again.”
“Should we make an appointment in six weeks?” she asked, hoping and pretending that he was only interested in having his hair trimmed and his roots touched up.
“No,” he snapped, thinking immediately of the cost of another salon visit. “Uh, yes, I mean, of course,” he added quickly, so he wouldn’t eliminate any opportunity for seeing her again. “I mean, would you like to go out for dinner?”
The moment had come, which she had been dreading. Unconsciously, she pressed her fingers deep into his neck muscles and squeezed extra hard.
“Owwwww,” he moaned in pain.
“I don’t know,” she said. What she meant was: I don’t think so.
Nuances of speech, however, were lost on Bill. He urged her excitedly, “Say yes. I’ll pay.” He considered payment of the bill the greatest inducement he could offer any woman to go out with him. Most people were essentially cheapskates, he thought, similar to himself.
Because she was unwilling to refuse him outright, Donna suggested something that would be less awkward for her and would, hopefully, discourage his further interest in her. It was also something that she wanted to do. “Maybe, you know, instead of dinner...”
“Whatever you want.”
“How would you like to go to a party that some of my friends are holding next weekend?”
Bill was delighted. “I’d love to. Your friends will be my friends.”
“It’s just a simple get together at someone’s house. Nothing special, really. A barbecue. Maybe there’ll be some dancing. The house is in the Hamptons, but everyone will be dressed casually.”
Lifting his head from the headrest, Bill turned to face Donna. He was glowing, more from joy and anticipation than from the massage. “We’re going to have a great time.”
She smiled faintly at him, less sure than him of what might happen.
Her invitation altered him. He was thrilled at the prospect of accompanying her to the barbecue. He looked like a different man and behaved like one, too. His exuberant spirits lasted through the most difficult part of his visit to the salon: Discharging the tab. Contrary to his usual self, he didn’t request an itemized bill or notice that a twenty-percent tip had been automatically included. Happily, he handed his credit card to Donna and signed the receipt without even glancing at the total. His head was in the clouds. “I’m so glad I came today. I have so much to look forward to. I look so much better,” he said to Donna.
Catherine had just walked up and stood near Donna at the corner of the front desk. “You can say that again. When you walked in here, you were a fashion disaster.” He ignored her and her comment.
“My hair color looks great,” he told Donna.
“What about the haircut?” Catherine asked.
“It’s all right,” he said, shrugging his shoulders a little.
“Thanks,” Catherine replied acidly.
Donna handed Bill one of her business cards, on which she had written her home phone number. “My number’s on the back. If you change your mind about next