Ход королевы

           ”Shewaspullingupherpantyhoseasshetalked,tuggingfiercelytogetthemoverherbroadhips.

           Theywereprobablyfucking—Mrs.WheatleyandManuelCórdobaySerano.Bethdidnotletherselfvisualizeit.Mrs.Wheatleyhadcomebacktothehotelataboutthreethatmorning,andattwo-thirtythenightbefore.Beth,pretendingtobeasleep,hadsmelledtheripemixofperfumeandginwhileMrs.Wheatleyfumbledaroundtheroom,undressingandsighing.

           “Ithoughtatfirstitwasthealtitude,”Mrs.Wheatleysaid.“Seventhousandthreehundredandfiftyfeet.”Sittingdownatthelittlebrassvanitybench,sheleanedforwardononeelbowandbeganrouginghercheeks.“Itmakesapersonpositivelygiddy.ButIthinknowit’stheculture.”ShestoppedandturnedtoBeth.“ThereisnohintofaProtestantethicinMexico.TheyareallLatinCatholics,andtheyallliveinthehereandnow.”Mrs.WheatleyhadbeenreadingAlanWatts.“IthinkI’llhavejustonemargaritabeforeIgoout.Wouldyoucallforone,honey?”

           BackinLexington,Mrs.Wheatley’svoicewouldsometimeshaveadistancetoit,asthoughshewerespeakingfromsomelonelyreachofaninteriorchildhood.HereinMexicoCitythevoicewasdistantbutthetonewastheatricallygay,asthoughAlmaWheatleyweresavoringanincommunicableprivatemirth.ItmadeBethuneasy.Foramomentshewantedtosaysomethingabouttheexpensivenessofroomservice,evenmeasuredinpesos,butshedidn’t.Shepickedupthephoneanddialedsix.ThemanansweredinEnglish.ShetoldhimtosendamargaritaandalargeCoketo713.