Even the kiss couldn't quite save it, and Ford was beginning to wonder with some alarm whether he would have to actually talk about it. There was a chance that talking through whatever was on her mind might put her more at ease, but there was also the chance that it might only make things worse. He wouldn't know which until after he'd tried it, and a prerequisite for trying was that he had to figure out which words to use. Probably none of the slang words he knew were appropriate things to say to one's wife, but penis seemed formal and clinical. If they were talking about this in the abstract before they'd actually started he perhaps could have spoken metaphorically, but it seemed ridiculous to pull out some kind of flowery language when the naked truth of the matter was quite literally on display between them.

It had not occurred to him to ask Cash whether or not he had to explain sex to his wife, and now he cursed himself for the oversight, because he was wholly out of his depth. But thinking of the conversation with Cash reminded him of something Cash had said, which was maybe another way out of this. Women had sensitive breasts, he'd said — maybe if Ford did something with those he could distract her again?

This thought came just before she asked if she ought to take off her nightgown. "Yes," he responded immediately, with relief. He didn't need it off for the act itself, but it would make — whatever he was supposed to do with her breasts easier, he imagined, if he could see them.

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