They jumped in the car and left her house in the suburbs. She drove vaguely towards the city. Five minutes later, she pulled over to the side of the road in Camberwell.
"Well, so, anything. What would you like to do?"
Jeschke fidgetted. "I hate this. I want to make every day count with you. This is you. You. You're amazing. Everything should be amazing."
"Yeah, no pressure or anything," said Pony. "Stop it. What would you like to do? Emphasis on the word, 'like', here."
"All I can think of is going to the beach. That's not amazing. I'm sorry. I can't think."
"I was thinking of the beach too. Let's do it."

They stayed eight hours, on a lazy cycle of sunbaking and cooling off in the water. Jeschke made friends with other beachgoers just by smiling their way. Pony had a fauxhawk at the time, so she attracted her own share of attention, mostly from the youngsters, who followed her and copied her, like she was Jesus. At some time in the afternoon, Jeschke and Pony happened to look at each other in a tableau moment, when they were both circled by new friends.

On the walk back to the car, in the dark, while Pony was dissuading goosebumps by jogging in spurts, Jeschke changed direction and headed for a cold, unlit park, alongside the beach.
"Jeschke?"
"Come here!"
Pony hugged herself and acquiesced. She was shoved behind a clump of trees.
"Jeschke, what are you up to?"
He stole her sarong and tried to unclasp her bikini top.
"You know. It's really freaking cold out here."
"I want you. Right here. In public. People could walk past. I don't care."
"I don't think you heard me."
"Forget the cold!"
"Being cold isn't sexy, Jesch."
He ignored her comment and kissed her throat and felt her thigh. Pony shivered and laughed uncomfortably.
"Fuck," he said. "All right. Let's go."
Pony linked arms with his and they strode through the park, with Jeschke holding her sarong with one hand, around his neck, so it billowed and trailed like a cape.
"The first thing I want," said Pony, in the car, "is a hot shower to thaw out my soul and to get the salt off me."
"And the second?"
"That's as far as I'm thinking right now."
Jeschke turned up the radio and sang along to Madonna, but better than Madonna. Pony admired.
"Someone I know's having a party tonight," he said.
"Oh yeah, where?"
"Near my house. Wanna go?"
"In my bikini?"
"Sure, I dare you."
"Oh yeah? What do I get for doing the dare?"
"My undying love and respect."
"Ha ha. What do I get?"
"I'll spread sensational rumours about you at the party. That I'm dying to marry you but you're a man-eater. That you have two houses and an apartment on three continents. That you're a record producer from Milan. It'll make it interesting... and you know I'll come through with the goods..."
"All right."

As they neared his local shopping mall, Pony looked to him for directions.
"It's around here," he said.
"That's not very helpful," she said. She continued, straight, and when they were very close to his street, she pulled over again.
"OK, where's the party?"
"Around here."
"OK, I'm not going anywhere until I get some more information."
"FINE!" shouted Jeschke. He got out, slammed the car door, and walked away.
Pony selected a CD on the stereo, and waited for him to come back. After five minutes of waiting, she drove slowly around the block, and then around the next block. She parked, locked up, and wandered around in the dark, calling for him.

Halfway between where he'd left and where she'd parked, she found him, in the middle of the road.
"Hey!" she said, slapping his backside. "I didn't know where you'd gone."
"I don't feel like going to a party," he said. "Let's go home and make sweet monkey love."
"Oh I love it when you talk dirty."
"Bacteria. Fungi. Virus! Disease!"
"Oh baby! Don't stop!"

Jeschke woke her at seven, because he had a TV interview at nine. She suggested that he join her in the shower, but he told her to go first. When she got out, he was finishing some toast, so she breakfasted and dressed alone, while he showered. He put on their favourite music and they danced around like crazies, and then it was seven-thirty and time for him to go. He checked himself in the mirror.
"I look like I've been up all night having monkey sex with a hot babe," he said. "And I love it."
"They'll slather you with make-up," said Pony. "Don't worry."