Part 44 (1/2)
”This is different, Joe. It took three nights to write.”
What could he possibly say? ”Go ahead, Nina.”
”Ready?” She was so excited. He heard the rustle of paper. Then she took a breath and began to read ”Your hands find me in the night, burrow for my warmth.
Lift me, turn me, move me apart.
The language of blind insistence, You speak with a slow tongue on my belly, An eyelash fluttering against my nipple.
This is the moment of raw cries and murmurs when Nothing matters in the vacuum of pa.s.sion But pa.s.sion itself.”
He wasn't sure if she had finished. It sounded like a big ending, but he wasn't sure.
”Nina?”
”What do you think?”
”It's...vivid.”
”Poetry. A brand-new concept in phone s.e.x.”
”Interesting.” G.o.d, she's making a career of this.
”Did it arouse you?”
”Definitely,” he said. ”My loins surge in wild tumescence inside my jeans.”
”Stop it, Joe!”
”I'm sorry. Really it's quite good.” And maybe it was. He knew next to nothing about poetry.
”I wanted to try something different,” Nina said, ”something literate. A few of the girls complaineda”Miriam, of course. She's more comfortable with the old sucky-f.u.c.ky.”
”Well,” Winder said, ”it's all in the reading.”
”My editor wants to see more.”
”You have an editor?”
”For the syndication deal, Joe. What'd you think of the last part? Nothing matters in the vacuum of pa.s.sion but pa.s.sion itself.”
He said, ” 'Abyss' is better than 'vacuum.' ”
The abyss of pa.s.sion! You're right, Joe, that's much better.”
”It's a long way from dry-humping on the Amtrak.”
Nina laughed. He had almost forgotten how wonderful it sounded.
”So how was your hot date with The Voice?”
”It was very enjoyable. He's an exceptional man.”
”What does he do?”
Without skipping a beat: ”He markets General Motors products.”
”Cars? He sells cars! That is exceptional.”
Nina said, ”I don't want to talk about this.”
”Buicks? Pontiacs? Oldsmobiles? Or perhaps all three?”
”He is a surprisingly cultured man,” Nina said. ”An educated man. And it's Chevrolets, for your information. The light-truck division.”
”Boy.” Winder felt exhausted. First the poetry, now this. ”Nina, I've got to ask. Does the face match the voice?”
”There's nothing wrong with the way he looks.”
”Say no more.”
”You can be such a p.r.i.c.k,” she observed.
”You're right. I'm sorrya”again.”
”He wants to marry me.”
”Showing excellent taste,” Winder said. ”He'd be nuts if he didn't.”
There was a brief pause, then Nina asked: ”Are you the one who shot the golfer?”
”Nope. But I don't blame you for wondering.”
”Please don't kill anybody, Joe. I know how strongly you feel about these issues, but please don't murder anyone.”
”I'll try not to.”
”Better sign off,” she said. ”I'm tying up the phone.”
”Hey, I'm a paying customer.”
”You really liked the poem?”
”It was terrific, Nina. I'm very proud.”
He could tell she was pleased. ”Any more suggestions?” she said.