Fanchon's Book(21)

Lovers, then. Oh, it wasn't a romantic thing-moonlight and roses and all that drivel, the hearts and flowers syndrome-but I knew our involvement went deeper than just a sex-fling. I could even see it as a lifetime liaison and the prospect made me happy indeed; there was nothing I wanted more. So why shouldn't I play the indulgent wooer and cater to the tastes of my wooed one? Why shouldn't I kowtow complaisantly and submit to her precocious demands? If my adoration of her beautiful body pleased her so much, should I be selfish and worry about mine? Hah! Even that my own body-was of less consideration now: it had no purpose other than to serve. And serve it would, gladly, devotedly, ardently, in whatever manner my domineering little sweetheart required; could an all absorbing affair like ours exist on half measures? Ludicrous or not, I would do it again-cheerfully, again and again, if such was her desire-I would let her make use of my mouth.

Admittedly, though, I did feel a smidgen of chagrin over that melodramatic delusion of mine-"the absolute and unconditional right"-a freakish notion to end all freakish notions. I found it more frightening than funny-especially when some intangible but irresistible centripetal force kept sucking me back into the enormity of that ephemeral moment.

I relived it often during the next few days, perhaps because the cogent memory was all I had to sustain me. Oliver had brought a batch of work home-top-secret stuff, something about a huge munitions purchase, so important that he wouldn't entrust it to a secretary and I couldn't very well refuse his request for help. I didn't understand much of it (the sums of money were positively staggering!) but with my penchant for detail, I got the bits and pieces organized enough for him to make an analysis and final judgment. I did some typing for him, too, quite a lot of it, and we were together night and day until the job was finished.

It had happened before, although seldom, and I didn't mind lending assistance when called upon. But as a consequence, my adventure with Kristi went into a cooling-off period; there just wasn't time for nocturnal romps. Not that either of us cooled off much, oh no, I could actually feel the suffusion of our mutual warmth whenever we met in the course of the day. The little angel missed my lovemaking.

Nor was she so angelic about it after a while. Kristi's itch for me had her nerves on edge. I recognized the symptoms: the pouting expressions, the petulant glances, the sullen deportment of a spoiled child on the verge of a tantrum-and in an effort to head it off I managed a few minutes of privacy with her. Sufficient for a kiss and an apology, at least, plus an invitation and the good news that our separation would end that very night.

It wasn't enough. I listened to her mumbled half incoherent reply and realized that the lovelorn little scamp was morose to the point of resentment. Not of me but of Oliver. She begrudged my time away from her all the more because it had been spent in the company of my husband. Jealousy-and I told her how silly it was; she had nothing to be jealous about in the first place; and anyway, Oliver and I were man and wife, weren't we?

"Well… " She seemed unmollified. "Just the same I wish you could be with me all the time. Or even for a couple of weeks, maybe-just the two of us. Couldn't we go away somewhere? Like for a vacation?"

"Impossible, my dear. Frankly, I can't afford it."

"You mean money? But you must be rich enough to-"

Oliver called from his room; the interruption couldn't have come at a worse moment. Kristi had touched upon a sore spot (oh yes, I too wished there was money for such a holiday) and his shouted summons aggravated my annoyance. So I lashed out rather angrily-at the nearest scapegoat, of course-telling the poor kid that my finances were no concern of hers and then running off to leave her in a state of shock.