Two hours later, Gale, Anna, and Helstof were sitting in their underwear on the small balcony overlooking the Rue Scribe. Gale had wanted to order up the bottle of bubbly, but the other two told her no, be satisfied with what you got, we have to meet these important people later. Hearing them say the word satisfied placated her. She definitely was satisfied, and she wasn’t the only one. Richard was comatose in one of the bedrooms, devoid of all energy save that required for breathing. Satisfaction was a poor description of what he felt. The Buddhists have a word that describes a spiritual state, satori, and he wondered if it was sacrilegious to apply it to his present condition. He did so, promising himself not to tell any of his Buddhist friends, and to leave a donation at the next shrine he came to on Rue Scribe.
The suite was on the third floor and the balcony had an ornate iron railing. Down below, the late business crowd and the early dinner crowd paraded past. The women had demitasse cups of coffee on the small table between them, all three wishing they were drinking a Provence rose instead, but thus far maintaining discipline. Richard had not heard the arrival of the room service waiter with the coffee. The balcony was small even though the suite was large. Gale’s leg leaked out through the railing, trying to gain a little more room for its languorous swinging, and immediately drew a whistle from below. She leaned over and waved at the admirer. Helstof, normally a soul of discretion, was stimulated, and let her milky white Russian extremity slip through the railing on another side. This drew a salutation from a Swedish gentleman sitting on a second floor balcony some three rooms to the side. When Anna followed suit, offering her display on the third side of the balcony, foot traffic below came to a standstill and the catcalls erupted. Swing, swing; point the toes like ballerinas; relax and extend; massage the calf slowly; stand up and look at the sky; nonchalantly pirouette and sit down again. The ladies played the crowd for all they were worth, channeling their female energy into having fun. All three had managed to get their panties on before going onto the balcony, with Helstof, being the oldest and most conservative, putting on her bra. Gale had draped her silk jacket around her shoulders, while Anna, being the youngest, simply had wrapped the European style chemise scarf she was wearing earlier that day around her neck. There they sat, enjoying the evening air, the attention from below, and their feelings of sexual satisfaction. The three of them were humming, and the night was young.
Richard was awake when Anna entered the bedroom, reluctantly having returned from his voyage to sartoriville. He was just a regular guy again, trying manfully to re-engage with the prosaic world that didn’t consist of being in bed with three beautiful women. Life could be so hard sometimes. Anna sat down and said, “Remember doing that at the Sullivan’s Island beach house, with Slev. That was fun, and this sure was fun. Gale is something, for her age.”
It wasn’t likely that Richard would not remember the fourways he’d had back in Charleston. If he lived to be two hundred and twenty, a hundred of them with Alzheimer’s, he would remember them. If for some reason he had a lobotomy, he would remember them. He might forget the thrill of his first solo bike ride as a child; he might forget his first sip of a vintage champagne; he might even forget the first time he had sex; but never would he forget the fourways at Sullivan’s, or in Paris.
“You need to get up. It’s seven thirty and Gale wants to leave for the Carrousel around eight thirty. We have the Hermes show at nine, then an hour break, then we meet the people at eleven for Valentino. What are you wearing?”
“I’m going like this. Au natural is very hip this year. Not even going to take a shower. I will rule as king male fashionista.”
“You will do as we say, from here on out and forever. Call the valet service and have them press your John Galliano yellow jeans and your white silk shirt. What shoes are your wearing?”
He said, “Shoes, shoes, kings don’t wear shoes. They interfere with the ablutions of our subjects. We must make ourselves available for the ablutions.”
Anna picked up a pillow and tried to smother him. She left the room and said to Gale and Helstof, “We’ve created a monster. We may have to leave him here and go alone. If he doesn’t recover more, he’s not fit for mixed company tonight.”
Gale said, “If he can’t get it together, I volunteer to stay here, babysit him. You two can go on to the show.” She was one horny creature, and a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.