Chapter 65

Steven was unusually talkative on the drive. He had hired a white stretch limo, and as they sat in the roomy rear, he sipped Scotch and gave Merlyn a running commentary on the sights they were passing.

"This is the Oakland Bay Bridge," he told her as they passed over the breathtaking combination-bridge that arched across the Frisco Bay. "It connects Frisco to Oakland, where we're headed. And if you look out that way, you can see Alcatraz. Did you see The Rock?"

Merlyn nodded. He grinned at her. "Let me guess, you like Nicholas Cage, right? Women always do."

She smiled back. "Actually, I think Sean Connery's sexier. But then you know, I find older men more attractive."

He patted her hand, looking pleased. "I can see I'm with the right woman."

She looked out through the tinted windows as they sped smoothly along the Bridge. The Bay looked beautiful with the twinkling lights of yachts and commercial ships along the harbour, and the lights on the hills of the city. The dark, stony shape of the prison island looked dark and ominous in contrast.

"Why is it called Alcatraz?" she asked.

Steven nodded as if he had been expecting the question and was happy she had asked it.

"A Spanish soldier, Juan Manuel de Ayala, noticed that it had a huge pelican population. He named it Isla de los Alcatraces, Island of the Pelicans. Which became shortened to Alcatraz in time."

Merlyn watched the dark shape of the island ripple past through the vertical lines of the bridge. She wondered what it would be like to explore the island at night, wander through its subterranean dungeon-like prison cells. It would probably be scary and exciting. She told Steven and he smiled, patting her thigh. That was the other amazing thing, how they shared the same sense of sensual imagination, were turned on by the same things, had the same fetishes and preferences. It made sex almost a telepathically perfect experience.

As they crossed over into Oakland, Steven pointed out Jack London Square, or rather, he pointed out the waterfront area in front of the Square that was visible from the road. He chatted about Oakland's rich cultural life, its ballet, opera, theatre groups.

Merlyn wasn't particularly interested in a Fodor's Guide update, but she knew he loved San Francisco, and he was clearly excited about the night ahead. She was surprised to find that she herself felt calm and relaxed.

She had declined to drink on the drive, preferring to stay sober and alert to whatever new experiences may come her way tonight. As Steven pointed out the Chabot Observatory on top of a hill, she saw the moon for the first time. It loomed large in the blueish dark San Francisco sky, swollen and pregnant with mystery. It looked perfectly full, even though she knew that the precise moment of its fulmination was still a couple of hours away. She sent up a silent prayer that tonight would be as exciting as she had always dreamed it would. Not the sordid disaster she feared it might turn out. After all, it was her first orgy.