Kennedy sat on the edge of the bed in the penthouse suite of the Carlyle – pulling on his socks.

Marilyn was in the bathroom adjusting her bra under the Jean Luis gown she had brought with her from L.A. for the night’s special fund raiser.

Jack had insisted on a quickie because  he wasn’t sure of his time following the dinner.  Jackie was in town and she might make an appearance.

“Need any help in there?” Jack offered.  “I guess we should think about making an appearance.”  The guests, he supposed, had been waiting for over an hour.

“The longer the wait – the sweeter it is…” Marilyn shot back lightly.

He stepped into the bathroom with a watered down scotch, took a sip – while admiring the beautiful creature beside him in the mirror.  He rested the drink down and indulged    himself – cupping her wonderful bosom from behind, while kissing her playfully on the neck.

“Mary Hemingway….” He  stated.

“Yes,” Marilyn turned, kissing him on the lips.  “shouldn’t be too hard.  I’ve thought it out.”

“Good girl.”

“For starters – we’ve both been married to very famous writers.”

“Boy – would I love to hear that bitch session,” Kennedy quipped.

Marilyn smiled.  “Nothing of the kind.  You know, I met her and Hem in the 50’s.”

Kennedy smiled knowingly, bringing out the lighter she had presented him at Christmas – that was from Hemingway.  “I remember  very well.”

She  hugged him, glowing inside to know he actually used it, and was a part of him now.  “Good boy.”

“Whenever I light a cigar, and put it to my lips -  guess who’s on my mind?”  he asked  gently.

“Pretty good with words yourself, Mr. President,” she complimented, “maybe that’s why they gave you the Pulitzer.”

“Maybe,” he joked back,  draining his scotch.

“Zip me up,” she asked turning her back to him.

“With pleasure.  And hopefully,  I’ll have a chance to unzip you later…”

“Such a little boy.”

“What else on Mary?” he did the zip – and gave her fanny a little pat.

“I’ll  steer a way from anything morbid, don’t worry.  But I’ll ask about Dr. Cubela – at some point.  See if it reglisters.  And then, I’ll whisper in her ear confidentially  – that the CIA wants to talk to me…about Sinatra…”

Kennedy nodded:  “Nice.”

The best way…” Marilyn  reasoned, “to make someone open up – is to make them think you’re spilling your guts.”

“Good girl.”

Marilyn sprayed on some Chanel and turned to him – with a camera-ready smile:  “Shall we…. I do believe the guests have waited long enough…!”

***

Mary Hemingway was no stranger to alcohol.  Or drinking.  A lot.  She and Hemingway could go toe to toe, and had on many an evening.  For such a small creature, it was rather remarkable.

And tonight she felt like  drinking.

She was not alone.

There were a lot of people vying for Marilyn’s attention, and made the effort to put themselves in front of her.  But eventually, well after dinner ($10,000 a plate) she was able  to maneuver herself over to  Mary.

And introduced herself like a long-lost  friend.  Giving her a sweet hug and offering her heartfelt condolences about Hem.

“One of the best, if not the  best,” Marilyn offered.

Too which Mary  smiled, appreciating the  obvious sincerity.  “You are a dear,” Mary said, “and I do remember that evening we all shared.”

“The Floridita…”

“…was never the same,” Mary smiled at the memory of a long and wild night of drinking with Marilyn, John Huston, Aaron Townes and Dietrich.

They decided to go to the bar to refresh their drinks.

Perfect, Marilyn thought. Mary was settling into a well-deserved, old fashioned night of drinking – and Marilyn handily seemed to be the pal at her side.

From across the room, Kennedy watched  as the two women headed for the bar.  Good, he thought to himself.  Marilyn was on task.  And on task meant, time for him -

To be on his task.

Of quietly pursuing a late night hook-up with a ravishing dish who was on the arm of Peter Lawford making their way towards him.

“Jack,” Peter smiled with that devilsh,  old- boy  glean, “I’d like you to meet a dear friend of mine…”

And Jack flipped on the charm, that warm, bright but gentle smile as he took the young  girl’s hand  in his and  squeezed it in that special way that told the girl exactly what he had in mind.

In no uncertain terms.

Her smile back was generously promising.

He’d ditch Marilyn.  She’d essentially served her purpose.  And they’d already had their intimate time.  He hoped  she  wouldn’t be expecting any more.

After all, he did have a  lot of other people to take care of.  Peter could do the honors – and find out if she got anything out of Mary.