She motioned me to sit beside her. She said: "You can have conversationor sex. I can wear lipstick to please you. I can talk intelligently or Ican tit...llate you. It's your choice."One of my complaints about all my wives had been that they didn't wearlipstick. I said: "Wear lipstick." She did so. I said: "Don't titillate, and let's not think of sex. I don't want anexplanation of this place, either. The way my life has gone, I've nevermet anyone to whom life is real. Everyone is playing some sort. . I'm sorry!" For what? There's nothing to be sorry about, I'm the one who should be apologizing for walking in on you like that. Serves me right, next time I'll wait for you to give me permission before just walking in."Her response had surprised me. "But..." But what?" She then realized by the look on my face that I wasn't just embarrassed, but ashamed. "Sit down," she told me still smiling, a look of understanding at my discomfort etched clearly within her face. "Maybe this is time for one. More

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