Using both hands, he pulled the bathrobe open wide.
Under it, his private parts were now concealed by his shorts.
“You’re insane,” she said, but she smiled and reached for the robe as he shrugged out of it.
“Your maidenly modesty is really a waste of effort, you know. I have seen what I have seen, and it is burned indelibly for all eternity on my brain.”
“You really are insane, aren’t you?” Susan said.
Why am I pleased that he liked what he saw? And for that matter, why am I not really all that embarrassed about him seeing me naked?
Matt went back into the bedroom, and as she fastened the robe around her, she saw him going into the sitting room. She combed her hair as best she could, then went into the bedroom.
Where she found that he had indeed kicked her clothing under the bed. The first thing she retrieved was her brassiere.
And saw he had torn it off: the buttonhole on the strap between the cups was ripped open.
She found her underpants and pulled them on under the terry-cloth robe and went into the sitting room.
He was pouring champagne. He picked up both glasses and held one out to her.
“I’m not sure I want this,” she said.
“What shall we drink to?” he asked, ignoring her.
“What is there to celebrate?”
“Us, maybe? Or am I really alone in thinking that something really special happened to both of us in the last twenty-four hours?”
“Matt, I’m afraid to believe you about . . . what you said,” she said.
“I told you I think I love you after I told you that bullshit time is over,” he said. “You can believe that.”
“I don’t know what happened to me,” Susan said.
“The question is was it special for you? Half as special, maybe, as it was for me?”
“What do you think?” she asked softly.
“I don’t know what to think. That’s why I asked.”
“The last time somebody put his hands in my pants in a car was when I was in high school. I hit him with a flashlight and knocked out two of his teeth.”
“Is that a yes?”
“I came up here with you, didn’t I? And you know what happened.”
“In that case, we have just taken step one,” Matt said. “Which I think we should commemorate with a swallow of the bubbly, and, if you’re so inclined, with a friendly kiss.”
“A friendly kiss?”
“Boy Scout’s honor,” he said, and stepped close to her.
She looked into his eyes for a long moment, then kissed him, very chastely, on the lips.
That was and that wasn’t. It was closed-mouthed and gentle, but I felt it all the way down to my crotch.
If he kisses me again, or puts his hand inside the bathrobe, we’ll be back in the sack again.