We went home after the mezzanine bar.
We became one as soon as we entered her place – my new home.
We made it as far as the floor barely inside the entry way in front of the couch. For reasons I was unable to divine – I think she could, but I couldn’t – that is as far as we got. Clothes, the few necessary in such a hot climate, were divested with abandon. And hours of something that I had never known, but of which images from a dimly lit place kept recurring, ensued.
Being spent can have a number of manifestations.
I would never have known were it not for those hours on the floor how ecstatically wonderful one of those manifestations might be.
That evening we went “downtown”.
I had suggested The Mayfair.
The Mayfair turns out to be her favorite restaurant.
I was going for the onion soup.
We both had the onion soup, but we also had something I would not have expected.
We had something called – The Mayfair being a French restaurant – Saumon avec champignons.
It was delicious.