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They made love again in the middle of the night when one or the other woke up and began to play. They slept soundly in each other's arms through the rest of the night, the glowing embers of the fire casting shadows upon them.
In the morning, she bathed and drank champagne while he made some phone calls. He had risen first and quietly showered and drawn her bath, lighting the candles for her and waking her with a light kiss on her full lips. They ordered room service and another bottle of champagne and discussed everything but themselves. Their time was coming to an end and neither wanted to give it life by discussing it. They dressed and gathered their belongings. She looked regal, in her coat and wide brimmed hat. Rick threw on his trenchcoat and hat and they left their lovenest behind. The ride down to the lobby in the elevator was in shared silence, hands clasped. She waited by the gift shop while he checked out and they met at the door and walked out hand in hand.
He walked with her to her to her car. The morning was cold and dark, a heavy fog had settled in over the night and hung heavy on the ground below. Figures were shrouded and when shortly out of reach, disappeared into the thick fog. The city was again alive with people hurrying to be someplace else. The bustle of the city surrounded the couple and excluded them as they walked along. They were oblivious to the horns, the scurrying people laden with cell phones, attaches and Starbucks cups that passed them as they walked together, holding each other close. They were together and neither wanted to be anywhere else. Their world was just the two of them and any other did not exist for the next several minutes. They were going to milk every last drop from their time together before rejoining the world outside of them, that waited for them, relentlessly.
They paused before her car, both of them knowing. Rick leaned in and kissed Ilsa deeply and passionately, never wanting to let go. Their lips parted and they opened their eyes to view the other's tear filled eyes staring back at them. She started to speak and Rick stopped her. "No, Ilsa," he pleaded, "Just go." Ilsa leaned in and kissed him lightly before opening her door and quickly stepping into the car. She closed the door and turned the key. Without another glance she backed out and sped to the curb. Rick watched her as her car joined the stream of others and she drove away.
As Rick watched her drive away he saw a man approaching through the dense fog. He was small framed, wearing a black trenchcoat and a small billed, official looking hat, like a policeman. As he neared Rick could see his face, white against the fog and dark clothing, small thin mustache accentuating his sharp features. Rick recognized him as he neared. He was Claude Raynes, the garage security supervisor and an old friend.
"Ah, Rick," he said as he approached, "lets go get a cup of coffee, my friend."
Rick was glad to see him, to see someone, and he threw his arm around his friend's shoulder and they headed off together into the dense fog.
