The Key to Midnight

emotion; and by drinking, every race, religion, and nationality became one indivisible species. Therefore, no matter what protective emotional distance he tried to put between himself and his friends, between himself and his lovers, perfect isolation would forever elude him. Whether he liked it or not, life meant emotional involvement, and involvement meant taking risks.
        He also realized that if emotions were universal and timeless, they represented the greatest truths known to humankind. If billions of people in scores of cultures had arrived independently at the same concept of love, then the reality of love could not be denied.
        The loud, dramatic music that had accompanied the murder now began to subside.
        On the huge stage, one of the 'women' stepped forward to address the audience.
        The music fluttered and was extinguished by the Oyama 's first words.
        Joanna glanced at Alex. 'Like it?'
        He was speechless. He merely nodded. His heart pounded, and with each hard beat, he came more awake to life.
        

    * * *
        
        They went to a bar where the owner greeted them in English with three words: 'Japanese only, please.'
        Joanna spoke rapidly in Japanese, assuring him that they were natives in mind and heart if not by birth. Won over, he smilingly admitted them.
        They had sake, and Joanna said, 'Don't drink it like that, dear.'
        Alex frowned. 'What am I doing wrong?'
        'You shouldn't hold the cup in your right hand.'
        'Why not?'
        'Because that's considered to be the sign of a gross, impatient drunkard.'
        'Maybe I am a gross, impatient drunkard.'
        'Ah, but do you wish everyone to know it, Alex-san?'
        'So I hold the cup in my left hand?'
        'That's right.'
        'Like this?'
        'That's right.'
        'I feel like I've been such a barbarian.'
        She blew on her sake to cool it slightly. 'Later, when the time is right, you can use both hands on me.'
        

    * * *
        
        They went to the Nichiegeki Music Hall for a one-hour show that smacked of vaudeville and burlesque. Comedians told low jokes, many of them very amusing, but Alex was cheered more by the sight of Joanna laughing than he was by anything that the funnymen had to say. Between the variety acts, gorgeous young women in revealing costumes danced rather poorly but with unfaltering enthusiasm and energy. Most of the chorines were breathtaking beauties, but in Alex's eyes, at least, none of them was a match for Joanna.
        

    * * *
        
        Back in the hotel suite, Joanna called room service and ordered a bottle of champagne. She also requested appropriate pastries, treats that were not too sweet, and these were delivered in a pretty red lacquered wood box.
        At her suggestion, Alex opened the drapes, and they pulled the drawing-room sofa in front of the low windows. Sitting side by side, they studied the Tokyo skyline while they drank champagne and nibbled almond crusts and walnut crescents.
        Shortly after midnight, some of the neon lights in the Ginza began to wink out.
        'Japanese nightlife can be frantic,' Joanna said, 'but they start to roll up the sidewalks early by Western standards.'
        'Shall we roll up our own sidewalks?'
        'I'm not sleepy,' she said.
        He wanted her but felt as awkward as an inexperienced boy. 'We have to be up at six o'clock.'
        'No, we don't.'
        'We do if we want to catch the plane.'
        'We don't have to get up at six if we never go to sleep in the first place,' she said. 'We can sleep on the plane tomorrow.'
        She slid against him and put her lips to his throat. It wasn't exactly a kiss. She seemed to be feeling the passion in the artery that throbbed in his neck.
        As he turned to her, she rose to him, and her soft mouth opened under his. She tasted like almonds and champagne.
        He carried her into his room and put her on the bed. Slowly, lovingly, he undressed her.
        The only light was that which came from the drawing room, through the open door. Pale as moonglow, it fell across the bed, and she lay naked in the ghostly glow, too beautiful to be real.
        When he settled down beside her, the bedsprings sang in the cathedral silence, and then a prayerlike hush settled once again through the shadows.
        He explored and worshiped her with