The list of places Sol has been caught having sex is not embarrassingly long, but only because he's never been embarrassed; it's been inconvenient, exasperating, hilarious, any number of other things, but not that. Nearly as many times, in his adult life, the audience has been entirely deliberate - in places not unlike this one, in more private encounters with casual and less casual partners and voyeurs, and (sometimes most satisfyingly) in a ritual context.

So it makes sense that the way he grins when Irene catches his eye is almost savage, somehow, reckless and wanton and brief, because his focus is on the woman on top of him, right where it should be. No one can say the man doesn't achieve what he sets out to do, and a good deal of the time he's inclined to think if nobody comes away bruised or bloody, an opportunity has been profoundly wasted.

--afterwards, though, he remembers; barefoot in dark jeans low on his hips, he carries himself like a king, signaling the bartender lazily and greeting Irene with, “Tips and hints for the amateur crowd?”