The 4 A.M. Girl

When the phone rings at four A.M., someone is either dead or drunk or needs to get laid. But there are some households in which the first two possibilities are never even considered.

One ring. Two rings. Half of the third ring and....

"Hello?"

"Hey."

"Hey."

"You sleepin'?"

"No."

"I want it, baby."

"I know."

"You want it?"

"Does it really matter?"

Say hello to the Four A.M. Girl. The girl whose loyalty to your sexual desire will outlive a Timex. The girl your mother warned you about and the one your father always knew you'd find on your own. Why? Because Dad probably had one, too. The Four A.M. Girl never says no. You will see more nights turn to dusky mornings with her on your sheets than you will, perhaps years from now, when your infant child wakes you with a four A.M. cry to be fed.

The Four A.M. Girl knows that your lust begins at the doorway. Sometimes you never even make it to the bedroom. She knows you didn't wash the sheets, and probably didn't even shower for her. She knows your refrigerator is empty. She knows you will not turn down the framed photos of your steady girlfriend, and too often she'll let you have her while the candle glow illuminates that girl's pretty face. The Four A.M. Girl knows she'll never make your picture book.

The most a Four A.M. Girl will get from you is some salty talk in her sweet ear--you get to tell her how beautiful she is and how sliding into her is all you ever think about.

You won't ask her how she arrived soaking wet at your door in a steady rain. You won't ask her how much money she has to get home, and you won't offer her cab fare for the ride back. In fact, you would never offer the Four A.M. Girl money for a cab home. That would seem like you were paying for her services, and that's exactly the way she'd take it, too. The Four A.M. Girl is not a whore. She has compassion. It's as much about her own lust--and the lack of a morning business meeting to attend--as it is about you. But, let it be understood, she knows a whore's hours and probably has the same little whiff of denial all whores get high on.

Still, there she is at your door. In a tight T-shirt, no bra, jeans and no panties. You always think you'll start slowly with the Four A.M. Girl, but once you buzz her up, you unwrap her like it's Christmas morning. There's no need to dress up for her. What's the point? Tonight is about throwing down. You don't need to make a new impression on her, she's been in your corner for years. In fact, wasn't it the Four A.M. Girl who warned you that your first wife was a bit frigid? She used to whisper to you, "No man of mine would ever have to campaign for sex in my bedroom." And didn't she help you through the ugly separation and bitter divorce? The Four A.M. Girl made a lot of house calls that summer and never once told your bruised soul, "I told you so." That's just not her way.

Still, you never sent her a card, never took her out to dinner and never brought her around to meet your family. Daylight has never been kind to the Four A.M. Girl.

All this doesn't matter when you size her up in your foyer. Suddenly, she's the most delectable treat at the banquet. She never moves away from you. She always comes toward you. If you want to start the evening with her sitting on the kitchen countertop, breasts thrust forward and head pulled back, that's fine with her. If you'd like to have her from behind, go for it. In the shower, no problem. Tied to the bedpost? Standing up? Just ask.

The Four A.M. Girl doesn't believe the lies you tell her in the moments leading to climax. She knows the difference between a lover of women and a womanizer. She often pries herself off the sheets to slip into the shower for a quick shot of soap and water after a particularly sloppy night. You know she's done this after you wake up several hours later and see that your bathroom is cleaner than you ever leave it. Sometimes she leaves a note: "Bye, Sleepy. Call me."

That's the thing about the Four A.M. Girl: She does so many little things you don't ask her to do, and she does every big thing you've ever asked her to do. And does she ever bother you for her reward? Does she ask for praise? Does she cry for your acceptance? No. The Four A.M. Girl knows her place, understands her job (perhaps better than you do) and dreams about the day you might ring her up and ask her to stay longer than two hours; when you'll ask her what she's (concluded on page 133)4 A.M. Girl(continued from page 82) doing the rest of her life. But you won't. A man never makes the Four A.M. Girl his wife. He can't. Her role is different from that of our future wives and current girlfriends. But you can't communicate this difference with her. The tongues you use to satisfy each other beneath the sheets become tied in knots when you make attempts at any other kind of communication. It will always be that way.

The passion will slip through your fingers like water. Your life will continue without her physical touch and she will go on to meet a new man and expect new things from him. Bigger and better things than she ever expected of you. She won't be anyone else's Four A.M. Girl.

But there will still be those nights--perhaps years from now--when you will turn away from your wife and stare at the digital clock. And you'll know she's out there somewhere, looking at her clock and seeing the same thing. Feeling the same wave, rolling with the same turns. But you won't call her. And the man in her bed will have no idea what significance this time of night has for his new girlfriend. For those nights when she used to leave her bed, fall into a cab and let you take her on your own terms in the kitchen, head pulled back, breasts thrust forward and your hands on all the good places.

Your secret is safe now. There is nothing you can do to bust up the memory. A woman will never run for you like that again. But you outran her. What else could you do?