in the world. Now that I've seen
you, I've one more to add to the score."
"Yes," she said,
holding his hand.
"I've been lonely
in a thousand places tonight and I would have been lonely in a thousand more if I had not met
you. With you by my side I'll never be lonely again."
"Never be lonely
again," she said, picking up the last of his words as she dug the fare out of her
purse.
The taxi sped off
down the street. She nodded curtly at the doorman who held the door open for them.
She pushed the
button marked "Penthouse" and the elevator ascended.
"And you want me?
You find me desirable?"
"Yes." Lips parted,
he moved against her. Gracefully, with none of the hesitant clumsiness of the first shared
intimacy.
She responded
willingly.
The door opened at
the top and they stepped out, faces hot with the first warm flush of promised
intimacy.
The key fit the
door and they went inside.
"Drinks," he said,
making them each one.
"I suppose it's in
the script," she said.
"Always," he
said.
"Can I tell you
something you won't understand before I excuse myself to go get into something more
comfortable?"
"Yes. Of
course."
"Well. It's just
that if you don't get what you want, you better want what you get."
"You're right. I
don't understand." He frowned.
"You weren't really
supposed to." She kissed him on the cheek, a small promissory note, and went to
change.
He smoked a
cigarette out of boredom, wondering how much money he'd eventually get off her. He saw no
pleasure in all this. Instead, he took a certain mechanical pride in his own
precision.
"You look
ravishing," he said, spinning her around, looking appreciatively at the expensive nightgown that
did not flatter her.
"You're
overdressed," she said, helping him off with his coat, loosening his tie for him.
Later, when they
had undressed, he admitted, "What you said before. I still don't understand it."
"Let's make love,"
she said. "It's not important. Just love me."
"Of course," he
said.
In the morning,
they awoke with their backs to each other.
He rolled over,
remembering where he was and why. Blinking in the light, he reached for her under the sheets,
fingers touching the places that would get a response.
She pushed him
away, almost violently.
He was surprised.
Very surprised. And he was a man who seldom had to experience that.
"But, darling . .
." he began, but she put her hand against his lips, cutting him off.
"I've made you
uneasy. There's no need to be. It's not that I don't like it or the way you do it," she
said.
He frowned,
expecting something unpleasant.
"You're very good,"
she assured him. "It's not what you think."
"What is it then?"
The sheet covered very little of him.
"It's just that I
have stomach cancer and I can't hold the pain off anymore. The drugs have worn off and I couldn't
stand it if you tried to touch me again."
"But. . ." There
was no compassion in his voice. No pity.
"I expect you're
disappointed. Not shocked. Just disappointed," she said. "It's not quite the long love affair you
counted on, is it? Short, not very sweet and not very profitable, is it?"
He was professional
enough to know the right response.
"But, darling,
surely with the right doctors?"
"I'd still be dead,
right doctors or not. A few weeks from now, days, who knows."
She seemed rather
calm about it.
He stirred in bed,
restlessly, his shoulders rising.
"It won't be a
total loss. I'll pay you well for tonight," she said.
"I'm not a
prostitute," he said, not really offended.
"I never said you
were," she said, and she reached for the drawer of the night table. Her hand came out of the
drawer with a pearl-handled .32.
"What's that
for?"
"It's for that
thing you don't understand," she said.
"You're not really
going to use that, are you?"
"Yes."
"On yourself or on
me?" He smiled somewhat cynically, aware that the dialogue was clever.
"Yes," she said.
"I'm going to use it. That's all you
you, I've one more to add to the score."
"Yes," she said,
holding his hand.
"I've been lonely
in a thousand places tonight and I would have been lonely in a thousand more if I had not met
you. With you by my side I'll never be lonely again."
"Never be lonely
again," she said, picking up the last of his words as she dug the fare out of her
purse.
The taxi sped off
down the street. She nodded curtly at the doorman who held the door open for them.
She pushed the
button marked "Penthouse" and the elevator ascended.
"And you want me?
You find me desirable?"
"Yes." Lips parted,
he moved against her. Gracefully, with none of the hesitant clumsiness of the first shared
intimacy.
She responded
willingly.
The door opened at
the top and they stepped out, faces hot with the first warm flush of promised
intimacy.
The key fit the
door and they went inside.
"Drinks," he said,
making them each one.
"I suppose it's in
the script," she said.
"Always," he
said.
"Can I tell you
something you won't understand before I excuse myself to go get into something more
comfortable?"
"Yes. Of
course."
"Well. It's just
that if you don't get what you want, you better want what you get."
"You're right. I
don't understand." He frowned.
"You weren't really
supposed to." She kissed him on the cheek, a small promissory note, and went to
change.
He smoked a
cigarette out of boredom, wondering how much money he'd eventually get off her. He saw no
pleasure in all this. Instead, he took a certain mechanical pride in his own
precision.
"You look
ravishing," he said, spinning her around, looking appreciatively at the expensive nightgown that
did not flatter her.
"You're
overdressed," she said, helping him off with his coat, loosening his tie for him.
Later, when they
had undressed, he admitted, "What you said before. I still don't understand it."
"Let's make love,"
she said. "It's not important. Just love me."
"Of course," he
said.
In the morning,
they awoke with their backs to each other.
He rolled over,
remembering where he was and why. Blinking in the light, he reached for her under the sheets,
fingers touching the places that would get a response.
She pushed him
away, almost violently.
He was surprised.
Very surprised. And he was a man who seldom had to experience that.
"But, darling . .
." he began, but she put her hand against his lips, cutting him off.
"I've made you
uneasy. There's no need to be. It's not that I don't like it or the way you do it," she
said.
He frowned,
expecting something unpleasant.
"You're very good,"
she assured him. "It's not what you think."
"What is it then?"
The sheet covered very little of him.
"It's just that I
have stomach cancer and I can't hold the pain off anymore. The drugs have worn off and I couldn't
stand it if you tried to touch me again."
"But. . ." There
was no compassion in his voice. No pity.
"I expect you're
disappointed. Not shocked. Just disappointed," she said. "It's not quite the long love affair you
counted on, is it? Short, not very sweet and not very profitable, is it?"
He was professional
enough to know the right response.
"But, darling,
surely with the right doctors?"
"I'd still be dead,
right doctors or not. A few weeks from now, days, who knows."
She seemed rather
calm about it.
He stirred in bed,
restlessly, his shoulders rising.
"It won't be a
total loss. I'll pay you well for tonight," she said.
"I'm not a
prostitute," he said, not really offended.
"I never said you
were," she said, and she reached for the drawer of the night table. Her hand came out of the
drawer with a pearl-handled .32.
"What's that
for?"
"It's for that
thing you don't understand," she said.
"You're not really
going to use that, are you?"
"Yes."
"On yourself or on
me?" He smiled somewhat cynically, aware that the dialogue was clever.
"Yes," she said.
"I'm going to use it. That's all you
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