murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood

"Doing what?" Naoko asked me, - just the two of you."
"Not at liberty to say, Miss," I answered.
Naoko chuckled and set down her book. Then the three of us ate
grapes to the sound of the rain.
"When it's raining like this," said Naoko, "it feels as if we're the only
ones in the world. I wish it would just keep raining so the three of us
could stay together."
"Oh, sure," said Reiko, "and while the two of you are going at it, I'm
supposed to be fanning you or playing background music on my guitar
like some dumb geisha? No, thanks!"
"Oh, I'd let you have him once in a while," said Naoko, laughing.
"OK, then, count me in," said Reiko. "Come on, rain, pour down!"
The rain did pour down, and kept pouring. Thunder shook the place
from time to time. When we had finished the grapes, Reiko went back
to her cigarettes and pulled out the guitar from under her bed and
started to play - first, "Desafinado" and "The Girl from Ipanema", then
some Bacharach and a few Lennon and McCartney songs. Reiko and I
sipped wine again, and when that was gone we shared the brandy that
was left in my flask. A warm, intimate mood took hold as the three of
us talked into the night, and I began to wish, with Naoko, that the rain
would keep on falling.
"Will you come to see me again?" she asked, looking at me.
"Of course I will," I said.
"And will you write?"
"Every week."
"And will you add a few lines for me?" asked Reiko. "That I will," I
said. "I'd be glad to."
At eleven o'clock, Reiko unfolded the sofa and made a bed for me as
she had the night before. We said goodnight and turned out the lights.
Unable to sleep, I took The Magic Mountain and a torch from my
rucksack and read for a while. Just before midnight, the bedroom door
edged open and Naoko came and crawled in next to me. Unlike the
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