The Veríssimo Project

The doorbell rings and the man goes to open the door, before which he does a little jig. At the door is a woman. In this case "woman" is a euphemism, she is more than a woman. If God were to present his best work for a contest, He would send her. I have to remember that for later, he thinks.

- Hi - she says.
- Hi. Come in.

She walks in and looks around.

- Am I the first?
- No. Since I was fifteen I have... Oh, you mean the first one here. Yes.
- It's pretty, your apartment.
- Now that you're here it is.
- What?
- Pretty?
- Mmmm.

This dialogue, he thought. What dialogue! This showed promise.

- Let me take your coat and purse...

She hands them over. He stands next to her. She says:

- I'm not taking anything else off...
-Oh. Right, right.

He puts the coat and purse away. She examines the living room. On the coffee table there is a bucket of champagne on ice along with two long glasses. The man returns. The woman says:

- Didn't you say there was a party?
- Wherever you are, there is.
- But you said there would be guests.
- Yes.
- I only see two glasses.
- Yes.
- And what about the others?
- What others?
- The other guests.
- Mmm. Ah. Yes, well, if they arrive, I'll...
- "If"? You mean they may not come?
- They may have forgotten.
- They may have forgotten to come to the party?
- I may have forgotten to invite them.
- I get it. The "party" is just the two of us.
- I prefer small groups, don't you?

The timing. The insistence. And nobody's recording this! The woman smiles and spins in the middle of the room. Her white dress twirls around her. What legs, what a night! He pours champagne. She speaks.

- I'm warning you...
- What?
- Tonight I'm Cinderella.
- Cinderella? Why?
- Up until midnight I will act like a lady...

He raises his eyebrows and asks:

- And at midnight?

She pushes him away with her hand.

- At midnight I run away.
- There's no reason to worry. If you're Cinderella, I'll be your servant, your driver, your slave.
- Then pour me more champagne, servant.

He pours, thinking: "I hope she says the bubbles in the champagne tickle her nose..."

- The bubbles in the champagne tickle my nose...
- I do that too, and I'm not champagne.
- What?
- Tickle your nose.
- I don't get it.
- Forget it, nevermind.

You can't win 'em all, he thinks.

- Don't you want to see my library?
- Sure.
- Come here. Bring your glass.
- But wait... That's your bedroom.
- My library is in the bedroom. Those two books next to the bed.
- Then bring it out here.
- The bed?
- The books.

He puts his arm around her waist. They spin and fall on the couch. He grabs the bottle of champagne and pours just a little more.

- I think you're trying to get me drunk...

He says this.

- If you already opened the champagne, what are we going to open at midnight? - she asks.
- Maybe a zipper or two.

I have to remember that one to tell the guys later, he thinks. From somewhere in the apartment we hear Frank Sinatra.

- It's midnight.
- How do you know?
- My cuckoo.
- I thought it was Sinatra...
- Doesn't it sound just like him? He even wears the same kind of hat.

She tries to get up off the couch.

- Time to go...
- You're not going anywhere, Cinderella.
- But didn't you say you were my servant?
- I did.
- Well, I am ordering you to take me home.
- No.
- Why not?
- Because it's midnight and I turned into a rat! Happy New Year.

Half an hour later she is naked, under the sheets, and he sits at a desk in the bedroom, writing.

- Aren't you coming? - she asks.
- Just one second. I am taking some notes so I don't forget later. When you said the champagne tickled your nose, what did I say again?