professionals were still around.
Fay MacGregor had become indispensible. She knew every inch of the library, and, since her other duties were so light, she was able to help him just about any time he asked. Though she still produced a strange stirring in Mark, mostly in just the seemingly unconsciously erotic way she comported herself, he had come to look on her as a friend. She seemed genuinely interested in his various areas of research.
"Today you have the whole place to yourself," she said, when he greeted her at the front desk. "We'll be closing early for the next couple of weeks, and most of them just give up when they hear things like that."
"Fine with me," Mark said. "Know what I've been working on this week?" He ticked off the articles on his fingers. "A piece about two-headed people; another about some cult that swears there's another moon circling the earth which we never see because it's hiding behind the real one; and a long article about a guy who says he can talk to plants and get them to talk back. And the last one is for real, since the guy is a UCLA professor and has been working on plant intelligence for twenty years."
Fay smiled.
Mark said, "Could you set the projection room up for me in an hour or two?" He produced a slide cassette and a tape from his briefcase. "Got this in the mail on loan for a couple of days; it's a thing the Ames Research Center put together on new findings on Mars."
She took the materials and set them down on her desk. "I'll let you know when it's ready."
"Thanks." Mark smiled and then almost had to look away. He couldn't shake the feeling that Fay was acting very strangely. He knew it must be his imaginatio n like on the first day he'd met her—but he couldn't help sensing sexual signals from her. Today she looked almost flushed. There was an odd look in those huge eyes, and her hands seemed positively hot when she'd taken the slide paraphernalia from him.
Still have to look into that lust at first sight thing, he thought.
When Fay poked her head into his cubicle two hours later to tell him she had the slides set up, he looked at his watch and whistled.
"Can't believe it's two already. Be over in ten minutes?"
"Don't forget we're closing early," she whispered.
When the lights darkened in the audiovisual theater fifteen minutes later, Mark sat in the center row, surrounded by notes. There was a low, droning narration, which Mark was afraid would put him to sleep in no time at all. But when the first slide clicked into focus his attention was immediately held by the crystal-clear view it showed of the Martian landscape at dawn. There was frost on some of the rocks in the foreground and, distinctly, wisps of fog vapor here and there.
Like a dream world, Mark thought.
He barely noticed the soft hiss and snick of the door to the theater opening and closing behind him and was startled when Fay slipped into the seat beside him and whispered, "Mind if I watch this with you?"
"Sure," he whispered back. Her sloe eyes looked up at him, and he had to shake off that feeling of attraction again.
This time he wasn't imagining it. She was sitting unnaturally close, and his attention was slowly pulled from the slides by the uncomfortably present heat of her body. He stole a quick look; she seemed to be watching the screen intently. With an effort he turned his attention back to the presentation. In a few minutes the spectacular shots from another planet had him hooked again.
It came as a complete shock to find that Fay had quietly placed her hand on his leg. My God, he thought, as much in the realization that he was instantly stimulated as in surprise. With a deft motion she slipped her hand behind his belt.
A part of Mark's mind was trying to hold on to rationality. The whole thing had happened so fast, and his emotions were so mixed up, that he didn't know how to react. It had already gone too far. Something told him, don't do this, think of Ellen, think of a thousand other
Fay MacGregor had become indispensible. She knew every inch of the library, and, since her other duties were so light, she was able to help him just about any time he asked. Though she still produced a strange stirring in Mark, mostly in just the seemingly unconsciously erotic way she comported herself, he had come to look on her as a friend. She seemed genuinely interested in his various areas of research.
"Today you have the whole place to yourself," she said, when he greeted her at the front desk. "We'll be closing early for the next couple of weeks, and most of them just give up when they hear things like that."
"Fine with me," Mark said. "Know what I've been working on this week?" He ticked off the articles on his fingers. "A piece about two-headed people; another about some cult that swears there's another moon circling the earth which we never see because it's hiding behind the real one; and a long article about a guy who says he can talk to plants and get them to talk back. And the last one is for real, since the guy is a UCLA professor and has been working on plant intelligence for twenty years."
Fay smiled.
Mark said, "Could you set the projection room up for me in an hour or two?" He produced a slide cassette and a tape from his briefcase. "Got this in the mail on loan for a couple of days; it's a thing the Ames Research Center put together on new findings on Mars."
She took the materials and set them down on her desk. "I'll let you know when it's ready."
"Thanks." Mark smiled and then almost had to look away. He couldn't shake the feeling that Fay was acting very strangely. He knew it must be his imaginatio n like on the first day he'd met her—but he couldn't help sensing sexual signals from her. Today she looked almost flushed. There was an odd look in those huge eyes, and her hands seemed positively hot when she'd taken the slide paraphernalia from him.
Still have to look into that lust at first sight thing, he thought.
When Fay poked her head into his cubicle two hours later to tell him she had the slides set up, he looked at his watch and whistled.
"Can't believe it's two already. Be over in ten minutes?"
"Don't forget we're closing early," she whispered.
When the lights darkened in the audiovisual theater fifteen minutes later, Mark sat in the center row, surrounded by notes. There was a low, droning narration, which Mark was afraid would put him to sleep in no time at all. But when the first slide clicked into focus his attention was immediately held by the crystal-clear view it showed of the Martian landscape at dawn. There was frost on some of the rocks in the foreground and, distinctly, wisps of fog vapor here and there.
Like a dream world, Mark thought.
He barely noticed the soft hiss and snick of the door to the theater opening and closing behind him and was startled when Fay slipped into the seat beside him and whispered, "Mind if I watch this with you?"
"Sure," he whispered back. Her sloe eyes looked up at him, and he had to shake off that feeling of attraction again.
This time he wasn't imagining it. She was sitting unnaturally close, and his attention was slowly pulled from the slides by the uncomfortably present heat of her body. He stole a quick look; she seemed to be watching the screen intently. With an effort he turned his attention back to the presentation. In a few minutes the spectacular shots from another planet had him hooked again.
It came as a complete shock to find that Fay had quietly placed her hand on his leg. My God, he thought, as much in the realization that he was instantly stimulated as in surprise. With a deft motion she slipped her hand behind his belt.
A part of Mark's mind was trying to hold on to rationality. The whole thing had happened so fast, and his emotions were so mixed up, that he didn't know how to react. It had already gone too far. Something told him, don't do this, think of Ellen, think of a thousand other
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