Five minutes later I had poured Art a full tumbler of whiskey and he had emptied it down, by the simple device of telling him there was a naked lady to be seen in the bottom of the glass when he had emptied it. He chugalugged, and I stood in front of him with my breasts pulled out of their flimsy bra, so he could see me through the clear glass bottom of the tumbler. We both laughed uproariously at this little joke, and Art reached for me. “Later, hon, ” I said. “After we eat,” and I tucked myself back where I belonged. Art was already sweating.
