“My elegant confines for the night, darling. How sweet of you,” she said dramatically, recreating a scene in one of the plays that she had acted in when she was much younger and a member of the community theatre. “I shall rest peacefully here.”
I took the empty wine glass from her, placed it on a nearby nightstand, and pulled back the comforter and sheet on the bed, presenting a warm and cozy place for her to rest until dawn. Then I kissed her on a cheek and said, “I’ll leave you alone now, Francine. Sweet dreams.”
“You’re such a splendid host. All gays should be like you, Johnny.”
I exited the room, pulling the door somewhat closed behind me. Francine would settle down soon and turn in for the night. She was going to be just fine on her own, and would probably fall asleep in a matter of minutes, dreaming of acting on a big stage somewhere in New York City. 9: Peephole
11:10 P.M.