The Fourth K

It was no more than ten minutes later when Rosemary reappeared. She sat in one of the chairs and sipped her drink. Now she was wearing loose white slacks and a white pullover cashmere sweater. She had pushed the sleeves of her sweater up above her elbows. She smiled at him, it was a dazzling smile. She had washed her face clean of makeup and he liked her better this way. Her lips were now not voluptuous, her eyes not so commanding. She looked younger and more vulnerable. Her voice when she spoke seemed easier, softer, less commanding.

"Hock tells me you're a screenwriter," she said. "Do you have anything you'd like to show me? You can send it to my office."

"Not really," David said. He smiled back at her. He would never let himself be rejected by her.

"But Hock said you had one finished," Rosemary said. "I'm always looking for new writers. It's so hard to find something decent."

"No," David said. "I wrote four or five but they were so terrible I tore them up."

They were silent for a time, it was easy for David to be silent; it was more comfortable for him than speech. Finally Rosemary said, "How old are you?"

David lied and said, "Twenty-six."

Rosemary smiled at him. "God, I wish I were that young again. You know, when I came here I was eighteen. I wanted to be an actress, and I was a half-assed one. You know those one-line parts on TV, the salesgirl the heroine buys something from? Then I met Hock and he made me his executive assistant and taught me everything I know. He helped me set up my first picture and he helped all through the years. I love Hock, I always will.

But he's so tough, like tonight. He stuck with Gibson against me." Rosemary shook her head. "I always wanted to be as tough as Hock," she said. "I modeled myself after him."

David said, "I think he's a very nice gentle guy."

"But he's fond of you," Rosemary said. "Really, he told me so. He said you look so much like your mother and you act just like her. He says you're a really sincere person, not a hustler."

She paused for a moment and then said, "I can see that too. You can't imagine how humiliated I felt when all that stuff spilled out of my purse.

And then I saw you picking everything up and never looking at me. You were really very sweet." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. He could smell a different sweeter fragrance coming from her body now.

Abruptly she stood up and went back into the suite; he followed her. She closed the glass door of the terrace and locked it and then she said,

"I'll call for your limo." She picked up the phone. But instead of pressing the buttons she held it in her hand and looked at David. He was standing very still, standing far enough away not to be in her space. She said to him, "David, I'm going to ask you something that might sound odd.

Would you stay with me tonight? I feel lousy and I need company, but I want you to promise you won't try to do anything. Could we just sleep together like friends?"

David was stu

This was so confusing to David that he smiled, and as if not understanding, he said, "I'll sit on the terrace or sleep on the couch here in the living room."

"No," Rosemary said. "I just want somebody to hug me and go to sleep with. I just don't want to be alone. Can you promise?"

David heard himself say, "I don't have anything to wear. In bed, I mean."

Rosemary said briskly, "Just take a shower and sleep naked, it won't bother me."

There was a foyer from the living room of the suite that led to the bedroom. In this foyer was an extra bathroom, in which Rosemary told David to take his shower. She did not want him to use her bathroom. David showered and brushed his teeth using soap and tissues. There was a bathrobe hanging from the back of the door with blue-stitching script that said elegantly "Beverly Hills Hotel." He went into the bedroom and found Rosemary was still in her bathroom. He stood there awkwardly, not wanting to get into the bed that had already been turned down by the night maid.

Finally Rosemary came out of the bathroom wearing a fla

David lay on his back staring up at the ceiling. He didn't dare take off the bathrobe, he didn't want her to think that he wanted to be naked in her bed. He wondered if he should tell Hock about this the next time they met, but he understood that it would become a joke that he had slept with such a beautiful woman and nothing had happened. And maybe Hock would think he was lying. He wished he had taken the sleeping pill Rosemary had offered him. She was already asleep-she had a tiny snore just barely audible.

David decided to go back to the living room and got out of bed. Rosemary came awake and said sleepily, "Could you get me a drink of Evian water." David went into the living room and fixed two Evian waters with a little ice. He drank from his glass and refilled it. Then he went back into the bedroom. By the light in the foyer he could see Rosemary sitting up, the bed sheets tight around her. He offered a glass and she reached out a bare arm for it. In the dark room he touched her upper body before finding her hand to give her the glass, and realized she was naked.

As she was drinking he slipped into the bed but he let his bathrobe fall to the floor.

He heard her put the glass on the night table and then he put out his hand and touched her flesh. He felt the bare back and the softness of her buttocks. She rolled over and into his arms and his chest was against her bare breasts. Her arms were around him and the hotness of their bodies made them kick off the covers as they kissed. They kissed for a long time, her tongue in his mouth, and then he couldn't wait any longer and he was on top of her, and her hand as smooth as satin, a permission, guided him into her.

They made love almost silently as if they were being spied upon until both their bodies together arched in the flight toward climax and they lay back separate again.

Finally she whispered, "Now go to sleep." She kissed him gently on the side of the mouth.

He said, "I want to see you."

"No," she whispered.

David reached over and turned on her table light. Rosemary closed her eyes.

She was still beautiful. Even with desire sated, even though she was stripped of all the arts of beauty, the enhancements of coquetry, the artifices of special light. But it was a different beauty.

He had made love out of animal need and proximity, a natural physical expression of his body. She had made love out of a need in her heart, or some spi

When David woke and reached out, she was gone. He threw on his clothes and put on his watch. It was seven in the morning. He found her out on the terrace in a red jogging suit against which her black hair seemed even darker. A table had been wheeled in by room service, and on it were a silver coffee pitcher and a silver milk jug and an array of plates with metal covers over them to keep the food warm.