Aces and Knaves

welshers?" Stan whispered. "Remember what happened to Ned."
    I shoved him away and grabbed Arrow's arm forcefully enough to pull her off her chair. I had to catch her or she would have fallen to the floor. I guided her, half supporting her weight, toward the stairs as fast as she could walk.
    ***
    I think I over-tipped the cab driver, but I couldn't remember how much money I had given him as soon as we got out of the cab. Actually, I wasn't in bad shape, but Arrow was. She couldn't hold her liquor any better than Stan.
    I kept my arm around her as we staggered across the hotel lobby, because her legs were rubber. Once inside the elevator she threw both her arms around my neck and clung to me as if I were a life raft. The feel of her body welded to mine was not unpleasant, but I couldn't give in to it.
    Once out of the elevator we slow-danced our way down the corridor in this position and somehow I extracted her room card from her purse and opened her door. Only then did she let go of me as she tottered for the bed, landing face down across it.
    I watched her for a few seconds, wondering whether it was safe to leave her like this. She said something I didn't understand; I said, "What?"
    "Unzip me."
    I closed the door, went to her and performed the requested act. She struggled to get her arms out of her dress, still face down.
    "Help me."
    I helped her. Once her arms were free she stopped struggling. Stopped moving. Unconscious. On top of the bedclothes. I found a blanket in the closet and placed it over her. Then I headed for the door.
    "Wait."
    She wasn't quite unconscious. I hesitated. Somehow, she managed to turn over onto her back. She performed an acrobatic routine under the blanket with her eyes half-open. Then the blanket came flying off her, along with her dress.
    Arrow lay on her back, quiet again, wearing only black pantyhose.
    "Don't you like my body?" she asked.
    "It's...it's fantastic," I said, truthfully.
    "Then don't go." Her voice became louder.
    I mumbled something inane about both of us needing to get some sleep.
    "Come here." Louder yet.
    I walked carefully to the edge of the bed, wondering how to get her quiet again so that people in nearby rooms wouldn't hear her.
    She grabbed my arm and said, "Kiss me."
    I was afraid she'd yell if I pulled away. I sat down on the bed and leaned over to give her a brotherly kiss, but her tongue got in the way.
    I knew there were at least six good reasons why we shouldn't have sex, none of which I could remember. Then I thought of one. She was going to regret this in a big way tomorrow morning.
    In desperation, I put my hand on her stomach and then slid it under her pantyhose. She closed her eyes. Soon she began to moan. She was asleep in five minutes.

    Chapter 13 THE PARTY
    Arrow slowly became a human being again as I drove our rental car south on 101 toward the airport. Before leaving San Francisco she had drunk black coffee in her hotel room and then orange juice (my idea) at the restaurant next door to the hotel. She also managed to eat some French toast.
    Her short hair didn't need much maintenance, and she looked surprisingly good, if a little pale, in a sweatshirt and jeans. I wondered how much she remembered about our adventures at the casino—and the hotel.
    Now, almost her first coherent words were, "I'm sorry about last night.” And then, fiercely, almost to herself, “It’s not going to happen again."
    What was not going to happen again? My first thought was egotistical—it must be something to do with me. But the more I thought about it the more I realized that she was speaking about all her actions. She had lost control. She had not acted like a business executive. And executives, as I knew from observing my father, always had to be in control.
    I was not blameless. I shouldn’t have used liquor to try to get Stan to talk. That had backfired on us. The best thing to do was to forget about last night altogether. Write it off as a bad dream. Of course, women with bodies like Arrow's didn't appear in bad dreams. Did I screw up by not taking advantage of her? If I had, she would hate me now. And, as I firmly reminded myself, I was going with Esther.
    To get the look and feel of Arrow out of my mind, I mentally reviewed what had happened before we left the casino. I congratulated myself on being able to walk away from the blackjack table. A few years ago I might not have been strong enough.
    But my gut told me that something bad had happened also.