Part 26 (1/2)

She moved into his arms and raised her lips. His arms went around her, but there was no pressure or affection in them. Their lips were an inch apart. Her urge was to give full rein to the heady happiness and excitement within her--to show her love in a kiss.

But she held off and, after a few moments, he drew, back, raised one hand and pa.s.sed it through her hair. Not with affection, she thought, but rather with curiosity; almost as though he were preoccupied with its composition. He rolled a strand of hair between thumb and finger, testing it.

”It needs cutting,” Rhoda said.

”Do you cut it?”

She laughed nervously. ”You don't know much about women, do you.”

”I know nothing about woman.”

Trying to inject a gay note into her voice, she said, ”We eat, we sleep, we--we're very functional, really.”

He rubbed a finger down her cheek. He pressed the flesh on her neck and watched the muscle spring back as he withdrew his finger.

”Do that to me,” he said.

Mystified, Rhoda pressed her finger against his neck until she could feel a pulse in his throat. She withdrew the finger. ”Like that?”

”Did it leave a mark?”

”No. Is there something wrong? Do you have a sore throat?”

”My throat is not sore.”

Rhoda's frustration was a pitiful thing. How could she get to him? How could she break through his shyness?

”I think you're afraid of me,” she said lightly.

He did not answer. He took a backward step and regarded her for a moment with a frown. Then he began to unb.u.t.ton her blouse.

Rhoda wanted to object. An instinctive protest caused her to draw back.

His only reaction to this was to step forward and continue to unb.u.t.ton her blouse. She wanted to resist but the fear of driving him away held her mute; that and something in his eyes that told of excitement, an unformed phantom of delight that had never materialized but still held sway over her through promise.

He stripped the blouse off. She wore no bra.s.siere underneath, and he regarded her b.r.e.a.s.t.s somberly. He pressed a nipple with the tip of one finger and watched it spring back into place.

”Please. I--”

He ignored her. He pressed the nipple again and then found the zipper on the side of her slacks. He pulled it down and pushed the slacks down over her hips. She lifted each foot obediently.

He was on his knees now, running his fingers gently down her thighs.

Rhoda trembled at the touch. Then she realized it was not love-making on his part--not in any sense. He was preoccupied with the fine hair on her skin. He studied it closely.

”I should have shaved my legs,” Rhoda said uncertainly. He raised his head, the cold eyes trained into hers. ”This hair grows, too?”

Rhoda caught her lower lip between her teeth. Tears were close to the surface.

_This is crazy. This is utterly insane. I'm mad or he's mad. I don't know. I just don't know ..._