Back outside, the attendant brought him his car.
"Where exactly do you live?" Asking this question, it occurred to
him that he had learned more about her this afternoon than in all
their of previous times together.
"In Pacific Heights. Well, lower Pacific Heights. I can't afford
real Pac Heights yet."
"Is that where you would like to live eventually?"
"Not really. I don't think I'm really a city person at heart."
She directed him up Pine Street to Fillmore, then to a narrow
street called Wilmot. Hidden in the middle of the busy Fillmore
shopping district, it looked more like an alley than a proper
street. He found its concealment unusually exciting.
"There, the second house."
He braked before one of three houses tucked into he middle of the
block, sandwiched between business establishments.
"Well," he said. "I had a wonderful time."
"Me too," she said, folding over the top of the bag in her lap.
He paused, unsure what to do next. The air in the car felt
charged with possibility, promise. He acknowledged his attraction
to her. She stirred in him feelings he had not felt in years,
which now suddenly gushed free inside him after today's victory.
When she had entered the boardroom, he had felt a potent sense of
longing. How long had it been since he had been satisfied, really
satisfied? Again his thoughts turned to Greta.
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