|It Happened One Summer
Matt needed to get out of her bedroom. Sandy looked so lovely in her red silk gown, so lovely and yet so vulnerable. If things
had been different he would have loved to have taken her there and then, to have picked her up in his arms and laid her down
gently on the bed. Then he would have lain down next to her, turned her face towards his and rained kisses over it, finally
resting his lips on her full, rose-pink lips. Next he would have slowly untied the belt of her gown and... Stop it. You have
got to stop thinking like this, he chided himself.
He opened the bathroom door where he was greeted by a cloud of steam. Sandy had forgotten to open the window. He unlocked
it to let the steam escape. He turned around and noticed the steamed-up bathroom mirror. In the moisture, was the unmistakable
word, "BITCH". Poor Sandy; thank goodness she hadn't seen that. He began to feel angry towards the person who was
putting her through this. Had someone written it today? Could it have happened in that short space of time when he was in
the bedroom talking to her? No, he didn't think it had. He remembered how he and his sister, when they were children, would
write in the condensation on the bathroom window with their finger tips. When the steam disappeared--so did the words. When
the steam returned, if someone was bathing, so did the word, quite clearly. He got a clip around the ear once from his mother
for writing a rude word on the window.
He grabbed a towel and wiped off the offending word. Maybe he should have left it there and called the police? But that
would have alarmed Sandy and she might have cancelled the party. He wanted to save her from any further distress. Besides,
as Doris had suggested, it could be an ideal opportunity to listen and observe. There might never be another chance to have
all six dinner party guests together again.