thing like that?” Darin asked.
“Oh, when I think of how you must understand a woman, know her moods and the reasons for them. You must know just what to do and when, and when to do something else… Yes, just like that.”
His hands on her body were hot, her skin cool. Lea’s petulant voice drew closer. He held Greta in his arms and stepped into the pool where they sank to the bottom, still together. She hadn’t gone to the Barbie school. His hands learned her body; then his body learned hers. After they made love, Greta drew back from him regretfully.
“I do have to go now. You are a lucky man. Dr. Darin. No doubts about yourself, complete understanding of what makes you tick.”
He lay back on the leather couch staring at the ceiling. “It’s always that way, Doctor. Fantasies, dreams, illusions. I know it is because this investigation is hanging over us right now, but even when things are going relatively well, I still go off on a tangent like that for no real reason.” He stopped talking.
In his chair Darin stirred slightly, his fingers drumming softly on the arm, his gaze on the clock whose hands were stuck. He said, “Before this recent pressure, did you have such intense fantasies?”
“I don’t think so,” Darin said thoughtfully, trying to remember.
The other didn’t give him time. He asked, “And can you break out of them now when you have to, or want to?”
“Oh, sure,” Darin said.
Laughing, he got out of his car, patted the MG, and walked into his house. He could hear voices from the living room and he remembered that on Thursdays Lea really did have her painting lesson.
Dr. Lacey left five minutes after Darin arrived. Lacey said vague things about Lea’s great promise and untapped talent, and Darin nodded sober agreement. If she had talent, it certainly was untapped so far. He didn’t say so.
Lea was wearing a hostess suit, flowing sheer panels of pale blue net over a skin-tight leotard that was midnight blue. Darin wondered if she realized that she had gained weight in the past few years. He thought not.
“Oh, that man is getting impossible,” she said when the MG blasted away from their house. “Two years now, and he still doesn’t want to put my things on show.”
Looking at her, Darin wondered how much more her things could be on show.
“Don’t dawdle too long with your martini,” she said. “We’re due at the Ritters’ at seven for clams.”
The telephone rang for him while he was showering. It was Stu Evers. Darin stood dripping water while he listened.
“Have you seen the evening paper yet? That broad made the statement that conditions are extreme at the station, that our animals are made to suffer unnecessarily.”
Darin groaned softly. Stu went on, “She is bringing her entire women’s group out tomorrow to show proof of her claims. She’s a bigwig in the SPCA, or something.”
Darin began to laugh then. Mrs. Whoosis had her face pressed against one of the windows, other fat women in flowered dresses had their faces against the rest. None of them breathed or moved. Inside the compound Adam laid Hortense, then moved on to Esmeralda, to Hilda…
“God damn it, Darin, it isn’t funny!” Stu said.
“But it is. It is.”
Clams at the Ritters’ were delicious. Clams, hammers, buckets of butter, a mountainous salad, beer, and finally coffee liberally laced with brandy. Darin felt cheerful and contented when the evening was over. Ritter was in Med. Eng. Lit. but he didn’t talk about it, which was merciful. He was sympathetic about the stink with the SPCA. He thought scientists had no imagination. Darin agreed with him and soon he and Lea were on their way home.
“I am so glad that you didn’t decide to stay late,” Lea said, passing over the yellow line with a blast of the horn. “There is a movie on tonight that I am dying to see.”
She talked, but he didn’t listen, training of twelve years drawing out an occasional grunt at what must have
“Oh, when I think of how you must understand a woman, know her moods and the reasons for them. You must know just what to do and when, and when to do something else… Yes, just like that.”
His hands on her body were hot, her skin cool. Lea’s petulant voice drew closer. He held Greta in his arms and stepped into the pool where they sank to the bottom, still together. She hadn’t gone to the Barbie school. His hands learned her body; then his body learned hers. After they made love, Greta drew back from him regretfully.
“I do have to go now. You are a lucky man. Dr. Darin. No doubts about yourself, complete understanding of what makes you tick.”
He lay back on the leather couch staring at the ceiling. “It’s always that way, Doctor. Fantasies, dreams, illusions. I know it is because this investigation is hanging over us right now, but even when things are going relatively well, I still go off on a tangent like that for no real reason.” He stopped talking.
In his chair Darin stirred slightly, his fingers drumming softly on the arm, his gaze on the clock whose hands were stuck. He said, “Before this recent pressure, did you have such intense fantasies?”
“I don’t think so,” Darin said thoughtfully, trying to remember.
The other didn’t give him time. He asked, “And can you break out of them now when you have to, or want to?”
“Oh, sure,” Darin said.
Laughing, he got out of his car, patted the MG, and walked into his house. He could hear voices from the living room and he remembered that on Thursdays Lea really did have her painting lesson.
Dr. Lacey left five minutes after Darin arrived. Lacey said vague things about Lea’s great promise and untapped talent, and Darin nodded sober agreement. If she had talent, it certainly was untapped so far. He didn’t say so.
Lea was wearing a hostess suit, flowing sheer panels of pale blue net over a skin-tight leotard that was midnight blue. Darin wondered if she realized that she had gained weight in the past few years. He thought not.
“Oh, that man is getting impossible,” she said when the MG blasted away from their house. “Two years now, and he still doesn’t want to put my things on show.”
Looking at her, Darin wondered how much more her things could be on show.
“Don’t dawdle too long with your martini,” she said. “We’re due at the Ritters’ at seven for clams.”
The telephone rang for him while he was showering. It was Stu Evers. Darin stood dripping water while he listened.
“Have you seen the evening paper yet? That broad made the statement that conditions are extreme at the station, that our animals are made to suffer unnecessarily.”
Darin groaned softly. Stu went on, “She is bringing her entire women’s group out tomorrow to show proof of her claims. She’s a bigwig in the SPCA, or something.”
Darin began to laugh then. Mrs. Whoosis had her face pressed against one of the windows, other fat women in flowered dresses had their faces against the rest. None of them breathed or moved. Inside the compound Adam laid Hortense, then moved on to Esmeralda, to Hilda…
“God damn it, Darin, it isn’t funny!” Stu said.
“But it is. It is.”
Clams at the Ritters’ were delicious. Clams, hammers, buckets of butter, a mountainous salad, beer, and finally coffee liberally laced with brandy. Darin felt cheerful and contented when the evening was over. Ritter was in Med. Eng. Lit. but he didn’t talk about it, which was merciful. He was sympathetic about the stink with the SPCA. He thought scientists had no imagination. Darin agreed with him and soon he and Lea were on their way home.
“I am so glad that you didn’t decide to stay late,” Lea said, passing over the yellow line with a blast of the horn. “There is a movie on tonight that I am dying to see.”
She talked, but he didn’t listen, training of twelve years drawing out an occasional grunt at what must have
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