Page 96 of Madame X

No.

So this choice of yours, Caleb?

I see through it.

It is a way of retaking what you feel I took from you last night.

Naked, hesitant, I enter the elevator, twist the key to thePH.

The doors close, and the car rises.

The doors open, and now I see the penthouse, whereas the last time I was here, I didn’t, not really.

Expansive space, thick white carpeting, a wall of windows with a commanding view of the city. Black modern furniture. I recognize the sectional in front of the elevator as the one Caleb had me over. It is one of a set: an L-shaped couch, a modern minimalist chair, a small round silver table, and another chair, forming a small square to block off the space in front of the elevator.

In the distance, in the farthest corner of the penthouse, the kitchen, and near it a small eating nook in the corner where two walls of glass merge. You are there, sitting at the table, leaned back in a chair, elegantly casual in blue jeans and a white crew neck T-shirt. A mug in your hands, a rectangular electronic tablet on the table in front of you.

There is a place setting beside you. A saucer and a cup. A plate, with a bagel neatly presented, sliced into halves, one half laid facedown on a just-so angle atop the other. Precise, perfect.

“Come, sit.” Your voice is very far away: The penthouse is enormous; it suits you exactly.

I cross the space hesitantly. If there is anyone in the buildings across the street, they can see me, and I am still naked.

You smile as I approach you, set down your mug of coffee.

You stand. Pull off your plain white T-shirt. Settle it onto my head, tug the neck opening over me, and I feed my arms through the sleeves. Clothed, somewhat, I feel more confident.

I glance at the cup of tea—I can see the tag:Harney & Sons Earl Grey—and the bagel, plain with light cream cheese spread thin. “You knew I’d come.”

Your eyes are still impenetrable, but I am starting to see glimmers of something. Perhaps I am finally learning to read you. Or perhaps you are learning to let me.

“Of course I did,” you say.” You are mine.”

And this, from you, is a truth I cannot deny.

The question is: Do I want to?