He then asks for a towel (after having already lain his wet carcass directly onto the sand!), which she tosses to him. Ever the annoyance, he next asks if he can have some of her chicken (is there a joke there somewhere?) and the remainder of her wine.
Cut to the morning and she's fallen asleep next to him on the chaise with her arm caught under his neck somehow. Now other instincts of hers kick in as she opens his robe, briefly stokes his chest and then directs her hand to his crotch! All this before their first kiss.
But, hey, check out these gas prices!! In 1978 L.A.!
Finally, you'll recall I mentioned above that this sort of story might have worked better in Hollywood's hey day for a more melodramatically attuned actress. For evidence that it doesn't work here, I give you Ms. Tomlin, draped in a robe and stepping into her "Joan Crawford" lighting. Miss Crawford made a 50-year career out of letting such light cast its magic on her astonishing face. Tomlin looks like she was coal mining with a pair of safety goggles on and just came up for her coffee break!