One Fifth Avenue - Candace Bushnell [65]
“I hope he—or she—won’t,” Annalisa said, trying to make a joke. “But we’d have a nanny. And a baby nurse at first.”
“There’s certainly enough room in that apartment for a baby nurse,” Grace said, nodding agreeably.
“Yes,” Annalisa said. “And Paul needs his sleep as well.”
“What do you do in the evenings?” Mindy said.
“We’re very quiet. Paul gets home at about nine, and we either go out to dinner or we eat something at home and go to bed. Paul has to be up at six in the morning.”
“Do you have a lot of friends?” Mark asked.
“No,” Paul said. He was about to say “We don’t like a lot of people,” but Annalisa squeezed his hand. “We don’t do a lot of socializing. Except on the weekends. Sometimes we go away.”
“One has to get out of the city,” Mark agreed.
“Do you have any hobbies we should know about?” Grace asked. “Play any musical instruments? You should know that there’s a rule in the building—no playing of musical instruments after eleven P. M.”
Annalisa smiled. “That rule must be left over from the jazz era. And One Fifth was built a little before that fun was over—Was it in 1927? The architect was…” She paused as if thinking, although she knew the answer by rote. “Harvey Wiley Corbett,” she continued. “His firm also designed much of Rockefeller Center. He was considered a visionary, although his plans for elevated sidewalks in midtown didn’t work out.”
“I’m impressed,” Grace said. “I thought I was the only one who knew the building’s history.”
“Paul and I love this building,” Annalisa said. “We want to do everything we can to maintain the historical integrity of the apartment.”
“Well,” Mindy said, looking from Grace to Mark, “I think we’re all in agreement.” Mark and Grace nodded. Mindy stood up and held out her hand. “Welcome to One Fifth,” she said.
“That was easy. It was so easy, wasn’t it?” Annalisa said to Paul in the Town Car, riding back to the hotel.
“How could they reject us?” Paul said. “Did you see them? They’re freaks.”
“They seemed perfectly nice to me.”
“What about that Mindy Gooch?” Paul asked. “She’s one of those bitter career women.”
“How do you know?”
“I see them all the time. In my office.”
Annalisa laughed. “There aren’t any women in your office. There are hardly any women in your industry.”
“There are,” Paul said. “And they’re all like Mindy Gooch. Dried-up husks who spend their whole lives trying to be like men. And not succeeding,” he added.
“Don’t be so hard on people, Paul. And what difference does it make? We’ll probably never see her.”
Back at the hotel, Annalisa sat on the bed, reading through the bylaws of the building, which Mindy had put together into a neat, printed pamphlet for new occupants. “Listen to this,” Annalisa said as Paul brushed and flossed his teeth. “We have a storage room in the basement. And there’s parking. In the Mews.”
“Really?” Paul said, removing his clothes.
“Maybe not,” Annalisa said, reading on. “It’s a lottery. Every year, they pick one name out of a hat. And that person gets a parking spot for a year.”
“We’ll have to get one,” Paul said.
“We don’t have a car,” Annalisa said.
“We’ll get one. With a driver.”
Annalisa put the pamphlet aside and playfully wrapped her legs around his waist. “Isn’t it exciting?” she said. “We’re starting a new life.”
Knowing she wanted to have sex, Paul kissed her briefly, then moved down to her vagina. Their lovemaking was slightly clinical and always consisted of the same routine. Several minutes of cunnilingus, during which Annalisa climaxed, followed by about three minutes of intercourse. Then Paul would arch his back and come. She would hold him, stroking his back. After another minute, he would roll off her, go to the bathroom, put on his boxer shorts, and get into bed. It wasn’t exactly exciting, but it was satisfying as far as orgasms went. This evening, however, Paul was distracted and lost his hard-on.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, raising herself up on her elbow.
“Nothing,” he said, pulling on his shorts. He began