She didn’t reply, but kicked off her slippers and put her feet on the coffee table.

I sat back in the chair, pointedly not looking at the screen.

She asked, “Is this making you uncomfortable?”

“I think I said that.”

“Well, it’s making me uncomfortable, too. And if I give you this tape, how many people will see this?”

“As few as possible.” I added, “They will all be professional, trained law enforcement officers and Justice Department investigators-male and female-and they’ve seen everything.”

“They haven’t seenme having sex on videotape.”

“I don’t think they’re interested in the sex. They’re interested in the scene of the aircraft exploding, and that’s what I’m interested in, so if you can fast-forward to that, I’d very much like to see it. Now.”

“You’re not interested in seeing me having sex?”

“Look, Jill-”

“Mrs. Winslow to you.”

“Uh… sorry. Mrs. Winslow-”

“Jill is okay.”

I reallywas becoming uncomfortable, and I thought maybe I had a loony on my hands, but then she said, “You understand why I’m doing this?”

“I do. I completely understand why you didn’t want to come forward with this tape. Quite frankly, I’d have second thoughts myself if it was me. But we can and will edit this tape, scramble the faces, and do our best to protect your privacy. We’ll focus on the events surrounding the aircraft-”

“We’re getting to that. Pay attention.”

I heard Jill, on-screen, say, “I’m sticky. Let’s skinny-dip.”

I glanced back at the screen, and she was sitting up. Bud’s face had emerged from between Mrs. Winslow’s thighs, and he said, “I think we should go. We’ll shower at the hotel.”

Jill said to me, “I wish I’d listened to him.”

On the screen, she was standing on the blanket and looking up at the dune rising from the valley. She froze the frame, took her feet off the coffee table, and leaned toward the big screen. She said, “I look younger. Maybe a little thinner. Don’t you think?”

I looked at her perfect naked body in the last of the sunlight, which made her look golden.

“Well, what do you think?” she asked again.

I was a little tired of her ignoring my gentlemanly suggestions to skip the little bangs and get to the big bang, so I took another approach and said, “I don’t think your face has aged at all, and you’re a beautiful woman. As for your body, it looks great on videotape, and I’m sure it’s still great.”

She didn’t reply and kept staring at the screen. Finally, she said, “This was the first and last time we’d ever videotaped ourselves. I’ve never seen myself naked in a photo or on film. I certainly never saw myself having sex on film. Have you ever done that?”

“Not outdoors.”

She laughed. “Did you look foolish?”

“Yes.”

“How didI look?”

“No comment.”

“Do you want this tape?”

“I do.”

“Then answer my question. Did I look stupid having sex on videotape?”

“I think everyone looks a little silly having sex on film, except the pros.” I added, “This wasn’t bad for a first time. Bud, however, looked very uncomfortable. Now, may I have the remote?”

She handed it to me and said, “We were supposed to take this back to the hotel and play it to make us hot again. But I think this would have turned me off.”

This may have been the first time in my twenty years of law enforcement that I felt I needed a chaperone to look at evidence. I hit Play, and Jill Winslow’s perfect, naked body came to life. She started climbing the dune, then disappeared off-camera, but I could hear her voice say, “Come on. Set the camera up here and get us skinny-dipping.”

Bud didn’t reply, but walked toward the camera, then disappeared. The screen went black for a moment, then the scene on the screen was of a beautiful red and purple sky at dusk, the white sands of the beach, and the golden red ocean sparkling in the setting sun. I heard Jill’s voice say off-screen, “This is so beautiful.”

Bud, also off-camera, replied, “Maybe we shouldn’t go down to the beach naked. There could be people around.”

“So what?” Jill said, “As long as we don’t know them, who cares?”

Bud’s reply: “Yeah, but let’s take some clothes-” and she interrupted, “Live dangerously, Bud.”

Without realizing it, I said, “Bud’s a wimp.”

Jill laughed and agreed, “Wimp.”

There was no sound for a few seconds, and no one on the screen, then I saw her enter the picture to the far left of the screen, running across the beach toward the shore. Still no Bud. Then she turned her head back as she ran and shouted, “Come on!” But I could barely hear her at that distance from the camera, with the background noise of the wind and surf.

A few seconds later, he appeared on the screen running after her. His butt was a little flabby and bounced.

He caught up to her near the shore, and she stopped, turned around, then turned Bud around to face the camera on the dune. Jill shouted something, but I couldn’t make it out.

I asked, “What did you say?”

“Oh… something about swimming with the sharks. Pretty stupid.”

She took his hand and they waded into the water.

Bud, in my opinion, was being led around by his dick. He really never initiated anything, and didn’t seem to be enjoying himself as much as, say, I would in that situation. I asked Jill, “How long did this affair last?”

“Too long. About two years.” She added, “I’m not as embarrassed about the sex on tape as I am about who I did it with.”

“He’s very good-looking.”

“So am I.”

Good point.

They were cavorting in the calm sea, washing each other front and back, then looking out at the sea and sky. She seemed to be saying something, but it was totally inaudible. I asked her, “What did you say there?”

“I don’t remember. Nothing important.”

I looked at the running clock in the lower right of the screen. It was 8:19P.M. TWA Flight 800 from Kennedy Airport was just lifting off the runway and was about to begin its climb over the ocean.

Jill and Bud were talking as they stood waist deep in the water, and I could see by the expression on Bud’s face that something she said had annoyed him. Before I could ask, she said to me, “I think I was finally telling him that he was overly cautious about everything, and he got annoyed with me. In a few seconds, I grab his rear end… there… he was still annoyed, and he wanted to leave, but I wanted to do it on the beach, like in From Here to Eternity, so…”

She grabbed his thing-a-ma-jig and said something. He didn’t look as happy as he should have been at that moment, and began looking around as if to see if they were alone. She didn’t literally lead him by his dick, but figuratively she led him by his dick, although she was now holding his hand as she led him back to the shore.

The running clock said 8:23P.M. TWA Flight 800 was about three or four minutes into its flight and was banking left, toward the east, toward Europe.

Jill and Bud were standing on the shore, full frontal nude, but they seemed to have forgotten about the camera because neither of them looked up at where it was positioned on the dune about fifty yards away. The sun had set, but there was a little light left on the horizon and in the sky, and I could still see their naked bodies silhouetted against the sea and sky.

Jill said something to Bud, and he obediently lay down on his back in the sand. She got on top of him, and I could see her hand going between their bodies to put him into her.

Jill asked me, “Would my husband ever see this?”

I froze the frame at 8:27 and 15 seconds. I looked in the sky to the right, to see if I could make out any aircraft lights, but I couldn’t. I scanned the horizon, to see if I saw boat lights, but there weren’t any.

“Mr. Corey? Would my husband ever see this?”

I looked at her and replied, “Only if you want him to.”