Part 3 (2/2)
She groaned. ”That stunk.”
”It's old enough. Anything else?”
”That's it for now.”
”Until you can think of something else to a.n.a.lyze?”
”If you want deep intellect, go to bed with a philosopher.”
”Thank you, no.”
”I thought you'd say that.” She was quiet for a while, resting her head comfortably on my extended arm. I nosed into the platinum silk she had for hair and began kissing the nape of her neck. She squirmed. ”You want to go again?””It might not be good for you. Your body has to adjust gradually, even to a small blood loss. Too often...”
”But you don't take much.”
”Neither did those doctors who killed a king from too much bloodletting.”
”I heard of that, I think he was English. But this is different and I'm very healthy.”
She twisted up on one elbow to look at me. The satin sheet slipped down quite a bit.
”Yes... I can see that.”
She made a face. ”I'm serious. I've been eating liver like crazy, and I hate liver.”
”I had no idea.”
”So do you want to go again?”
”It's very tempting, but better for you if we wait.”
She thought about it, decided not to push the issue, and wiggled back into my arms again. ”Who taught you all this restraint?”
I pretended it was a rhetorical question and resumed nuzzling her hair. It smelled lightly of roses.
She went on. ”I can't help but be curious about her. I won't ask anymore if you don't want me to.”
”But you'll still wonder.”
”Uh-huh.”
”Her name was Maureen.” The words dropped out like lead, as always when I talked of her in the past tense.
”I can tell you loved her a lot. It's the way you look when you think about her.”
”It's that obvious?”
”Sometimes. You'll be looking at me and then I'm not there for you, and I know you're seeing her instead.”
”Sorry.”
”It's all right. Are we much alike?”
”Her hair was dark and she was shorter.”
”I didn't mean like that.””She needed love,” I said lamely.
”Everyone does.”
”She needed it like... I don't know. It was all that mattered to her.”
”And you loved each other a lot.”
”G.o.d, yes. But I didn't realize how much until-we were both happy, a long time ago.”
”I'm glad you were, that you had something like that. I never did-until now.” Her voice was soft, I thought she was drifting off to sleep.
I tried to remember Maureen's face, but it was like recalling a dream. The harder I tried, the farther it slipped away.
”I hope you believe me,” she said.
”About what?”
”About liking your style better.”
”Thanks. Are you sure you don't miss the old way, though?”
She shrugged. ”Not much. It's apples and oranges; I like 'em both when it's done right.”
My hands began wandering again. She rolled on her back and we did some serious kissing. Her breath came faster and her heart rate went up.
”I thought you weren't going to take any more from me tonight.”
”I'm not, but maybe you'd like some oranges?”
”What?”
I kissed her again, one hand pa.s.sing over her smooth flank, dipping at the waist and pausing briefly just below her navel.
”Oranges,” she murmured. ”Handpicked, of course.”
Asleep, she looked younger than her twenty-four years. Sleep lent vulnerability and vulnerability brought youth. I watched her protectively, feeling a fierce, quiet joy at the sight of her relaxed features. A little makeup clung to the pale skin, a trace of powder high on one cheek and the faint line of drawn-on brows. Her own had been carefully plucked away to follow the current fas.h.i.+on. I had seen many pretty faces, but few cla.s.sic beauties, and fewer still with brains and personality. She was beautiful, at least as I perceived it, with the kind of looks that artists sometimes capture, if they have the talent.
Her blond head turned on the pillow, the lips parting slightly then closing. They were light pink now; all the lip rouge had been kissed away quite awhile ago. From previous experience I could guess that if any were left it would be on me. I didn't mind a bit.
It was a hard ch.o.r.e to leave, but necessary-the sunrise was coming and with it my daytime oblivion. I eased out of bed. got dressed, and kissed her forehead in farewell.
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