She was getting closer now with only a few more yards to go along the straw pathway. He felt the jump of nervousness he used to feel as a kid when he saw his date approaching their rendezvous. He sipped the colada and ran his hand across the hair of his chest and down to the waistband of his shorts, feeling the tautness of his stomach muscles. Even in this slumped position there was only the slightest sign of bulging. Golf and swimming kept him in good shape for his age. He was fifty-eight next August the twelfth. But there was, he noticed, a certain slackness in the skin of his arms. The veins were standing out under the fine pattern of black and grey hairs. He had also noticed recently, in the mirrors along the walls of the bathroom, the tiny bunches of wrinkles that were beginning to form in the folds between his armpits and his chest. But he still had all his hair. And his teeth (with the exception of one small piece of bridgework, and a good deal of capping).