“Joan Eunice, do you.. realize that that is a reproduction—exact, I think—of a body-paint design Eunice once wore?”
“Of course I realize it; she wore it here…and I wasn’t so near dead that I didn’t stare. Could never make up my mind whether these were sea shells or paint. Now I know. Joe wanted to be sure that you had seen it that first time, when Eunice wore it. I told him that I was almost certain that you had been here that day.”
“Well, yes, I was. Briefly. That’s why I recognized it.”
“So? It had seemed to me that I recalled that as one of the days you took Eunice home. Hmmm?”
“Joan, are you trying to be snoopy?”
“Yes.”
“Woman, I will not satisfy your prurient curiosity.”
“How do you feel about satisfying prurience itself? Mine, I mean.”
“That’s another matter.”
“I was wondering. So far you haven’t even kissed me. Shall I take a shower first? Or let me put it this way: Did Eunice take time to get the paint off first?”
“Let me put it this way: Shut up and keep quiet and pipe down and not another damn word out of you until I give permission.”
“Yes, sir.”
She obeyed in essence for a reasonable time.
“May I talk now?”
“Yes, as long as you limit yourself to polite words of endearment. Some of your spontaneous remarks were quite unladylike.”
“That’s because I’m quite unladylike, Jake my only darling. I’m a failure as a lady. But I’ll go on doing my best to simulate one in public—be a credit to Eunice.”
“Joan Eunice—”
“Sir?”
“That’s the way Eunice herself did it. A perfect lady in public. . . utterly uninhibited in private. It was a major part of her-great charm. Some of her spontaneous expressions at such times were far more ‘unladylike’ than any I’ve heard you use.”
“Really, Jake? Did she know any that I don’t? And do you like them?”
“Hmm, I don’t think she knew any that you don’t know; she was just easier about it once she trusted me. Yes, I do like them. Used spontaneously.”
“Jake, I trust you without limit—and I’ll try not to inhibit any future spontaneity. Haven’t meant to. Still learning.”
“Darling girl, you do just fine when you get your rest. I mean ‘my rest.’ Now that I’ve got you helpless—and seeing that you trust me ‘without limit’—what did, happen at Joe’s.”
“Sir, the fact that I trust you—and I do!—does not mean that I’m going to satisfy your prurient curiosity.” –
“Hmm— Neither did Eunice, ever.”
“Instead, you tell me what happened to you—at Joe’s.”
“We seem to have reached a stalemate. Let’s wash off this paint. I wish I had taken a photograph of our mermaid before I smeared it.”
“No huhu, Jake my beloved; Joe took several and I have them in my purse. For you. And I have two of Eunice in the same getup—one for you, and one for me. And besides that Joe gave me a four-by-five Kodachrome of a most incredible trompe-l’oeil painting he did of Eunice as a mermaid diving . . . plus a smaller transparency which shows how he did it. Same getup minus sea shells.”
“Would it surprise you to learn that I’ve seen them both? Just didn’t have the crust to promote Joe for them.”
“No, not surprised, I guess. But I did not pressure him, Jake; he said he had a present for me—and these photos turned out to be the present. I should refuse? God forbid. But I’m going to put snoops to work and trace down who bought that painting. I intend to own it. Price no-object.”
“Your money won’t help you, Miss Smith. Would it surprise you to know that I own that original Branca? It’s at the Gib.”
“I’ll be—dipped! Jake, you’re a dirty old holdout. I take back ten percent of any compliments I’ve handed you.”
“That’s okay; I didn’t believe more than ninety percent. But if you’re a good girl I’ll give you that painting.”
“I accept! But—well, it’s hardly worthwhile opening those packages. They’ll be disappointments.”
“Would you like a spanking?”
“Yes.”
“I’m too tired. Let’s open packages.”