Sexual Solstice by Tracey B. Bradley

changed but there seemed to be miles between them in terms of what money was doing. A plaything for her. Lifeblood for Robert. But they both seemed to know that. Gillian dozed in the chair and then dozed in the bath, wrapped her hair in a towel and flopped on the bed. She left the curtains open so she could watch––floor to ceiling––as Manhattan sparkled below her.
    It seemed she’d been asleep for seconds before she heard Robert at the door. “Room service,” he whispered.
    “Come in,” Gillian sang in a light voice. She could make out Robert’s profile against the backdrop of the city and the reflection of light off the falling snow.
    “I gotta take a shower if you don’t mind.”
    “You go ahead.”
    “Hey, I brought you something. Open it.”
    Not more Champagne, Gillian joked to herself. She knew the sacrifices, whether financial or moral, to bring such a gift, were not to be taken lightly.
    “Roederer Cristal Brut ’69.” Robert called above the splash of the shower. About the same price as the room for a night. They’ll never miss it––
    “Jesus, that’s nice.”
    “Glasses are in the side board. Hey, you relax, I’ll get ‘em.”
    Gillian luxuriated in the thought of more Champagne and in King size bed with a man who was––
    Robert stepped out of the bathroom. “Oh my God you are swarthy––and hairy!”
    Gillian’s eyes roved over Robert as he toweled off his brown locks and face.
    “That’s my Italian blood.”
    “Italian?”
    “Oh sure as shit. I’m not Mason. I’m Missoni. I just thought Mason had some weight to it, you know. Missoni? Too many questions.”
    “Roberto Missoni.”
    “I love it when you talk dirty. Anyway Mason worked for theatre school, and it still does. I’ll change it back someday when I’m a star, or a director. If I want.” He pulled a robe over his shoulders.
    “Oh don’t do that.”
    Robert held the robe wide. “Just getting warm.”
    While he talked, Gillian stared at his member. “Now I re-member. That’s why they called you the crippler.”
    “You bet, the crippler. Gotten me more than one job, I hate to say. I wish it was just my talent.”
    “I’m sure you have talent with that.”
    “Let’s have some champagne first and then we’ll see.” Robert swiftly and quietly opened the bottle, as he had done for hundreds of guests. He got the glasses from the sideboard and then sat on the edge of the bed while Gillian sat in the chair. “Here’s to drinking my way across the Atlantic, then settling into some saké, and now finally a drink with an honest to God human being, and a fine figure of a man at that.”
    “I’ll drink to that. As long as neither of us pass out.”
    “Well I’d say that life has been good to you. You are definitely a New York boy, wouldn’t you say?”
    “I guess so. Not much of a world traveler. I try to get over to London maybe once a year to soak up some theatre, but I have a good life. Two kids, and they love me. One starting college.”
    “A family man. An actor who supports a family. Quite a feat.”
    “Hasn’t been easy with a self-centred guy like me. How about you? Last time I saw you, you were on your way to London, said you’d never look back. You’ve made good for yourself––staying in a place like this.”
    “I hate to say it, but I married well.”
    “Shit. Did you ever.”
    “I wanted so much to be, you know, absorbed into England. Into it all. I was just crazy about it as a teenager and I cannot tell you why. I just felt like my style was completely at home there. It was as foreign as I could get without having to learn another language, and I went to school.”
    “The married part?”
    “I met him just before I graduated. He had wealth, family, a nice dick, I mean penis––not as nice as yours from what I can see, but I guess the bulge in his wallet made a bigger impression than the bulge in his pants. Anyway, he was good to me. Fatherly, you know,