Chapter 17: I Want a Tuesday

Jasper zipped me into the green dress, and then he unzipped it again.

"Greta spent forty dollars on that zipper," I said.

"I'll pay her back."

It was Thursday night, and the shop was dark except for the work lamp.

The dress lay on the floor in a puddle of emerald silk.

He had not stopped looking at me since I came out of the back room.

"I want to see you," he said, "before tomorrow."

"You're looking."

"Not like this."

He took my hand and led me across the concrete to the sailboat in its cradle.

A wooden ladder ran up the hull.

"You first," he said.

I climbed.

The cabin was small and smelled of varnish and cedar.

A wide berth ran along one side, and the window above it showed the roof beams.

He came up behind me and the hatch closed over our heads.

It was very quiet.

I turned around, and he put both hands on either side of my face.

"I'm not going to be gentle tonight," he said.

"Good."

"Mireille."

"Don't hold back," I said, and I pulled his shirt over his head.

His hands were rough and slow, and they went to my bra clasp, then my hips, and then my underwear.

He laid me back on the berth and knelt over me and looked.

"You're shaking," he said.

"It's cold."

"It isn't."

"I know," I said. "I want you so much it's embarrassing."

He laughed softly.

He kissed my mouth, my throat, the center of my chest.

He went slowly down my body until his beard dragged along the inside of my thigh.

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