Sex is everywhere. In the aftermath of the storm comes a curious surge of horniness. Babies will be born and traced back to this date. Reports will pinpoint the storm itself – people staying indoors, electricity failing – but they’ll be wrong. It is the aftermath which brings the sex, not the storm itself.
George, having spent the afternoon in a futile attempt to satiate Lucinda, returns home almost a broken man. Lucinda is sometimes just too demanding. Sex for her is yet another excuse to display her flexibility – a competitive event and she the gold medallist. Sometimes a man just doesn’t need that, the positions, the effort, the sheer bloody contortionism of it all. Sometimes a man just wants to sink easily and effortlessly into a warmth he knows.
He pours stiff gins for himself and Anna. She looks radiant today. There’s an hour to go before the meeting starts and he needs to unwind. He puts on an old Nat King Cole album, its slow beat perfectly underlies his weary pace. Even Anna, still obsessing over options for his death, views him and feels a softening.
“Dance with me,” George says.