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'Why don't you go to the men's room and do some blow？'
That's a strange way to tell me you love me / When your sorrow is all I can see / // you just want to cry to somebody / Don't cry to me。。。
'Now； hey man。 I'm through talkin' to you。' The click^ unheard in the throbbing of the leather room but the gleam of the switchblade was unmistakable。
'Justine。'
'Don't talk to her； man。' One shoulder lowered。 'Now this's for you。'
He was very fast and he knew how to use it； trained in the street where there are no rules except the need to survive。 This kind could be far more dangerous than the professional because of the unpredictability。 The eight…inch blade could rip open his abdomen in a fraction of a second。
Blocked the initial thrust with his left forearm and； pivoting； slammed the edge of his right hand into the Puerto Rican's pelvis。 There was no sound save for the music； their violent motions； dancers' movements assimilated into the fierce kineticism of the leather room。
The Puerto Rican's mouth opened wide； his head thrown back in precisely the pose of the man in Munch's The Scream。 He moved to right himself and Nicholas jammed his shoe against the outer edge of the other's right instep。 All balance fled him and he pitched sideways； between two startled couples。 His out flung arm smashed someone in the face as she whirled by。
It all might have been a scene from a ic opera but Nicholas did not feel like laughing。
Here are we / One magical moment / Subject the stuff from where dreams are women。。。
Justine looked from him to the fallen man； clutching his hip。 The switchblade lay on the mottled floor like a centerpiece at a bizarre wedding which no one seemed to want to pick up and take home。
'Justine …'
'How did you find me？ What do you want from me？'
'Justine。'
'I can't take any more。 Please； please； please。 Can't you see I've been crying…'
There are you / Drive life a demon / From station to station。。。
'… over you。 Over you。'
'Justine。 I came here …'
'And I don't care any more if you know it。'
'… to tell you I love you。〃
Tears rolled silently from her eyes。 The air was as thick as honey with music： aching voices； insinuating rhythms； erotic percussion。 'Please。' Had she heard him？
'I love you。' They touched in a kind of radiation of energy and misspent emotion。 'Justine； I …'
It's not the side effects of the cocaine / I'm thinking that it must be love / It's too late to be grateful / It's too late to be late again I It's too late to be hateful / It's too late 。。。 f It's too late。。。
'。。。 cried in the sand in front of your house with this night / And the sea and that's never happened to me before。' And he thought； lying on the long pale sea…foam sofa with Justine's long warm body next to his： You're wrong； Croaker。 I can feel。 I do feel。
'Don't be ashamed of it。'
'I'm not。' The first faint crumbling of his past； sliding downwards to be buried at last beneath the churning waves of the sea。 'I wouldn't have told you otherwise。〃
'It makes me happy。' She put her fingers on his hip as if searching for a lock to open； 'To know that you can be grateful to me for something。' Stockinged； her legs whispered one against the other like cicadas' wings。 'The way I am grateful to you。'
'It's a new feeling。' She watched his eyes turning inward； listening to his words。 'What I did to you was so cruel。 But I did it … I did it out of self…defence； a kind of survival instinct。 I suddenly felt how close you had e to the core of me and it reminded me…'
Her long hair brushed his shoulder。 'Of what？'
〃The sea； a long time ago； the mist and a ferry ride through a cyclorama of Japan。' His lips stayed half open even when he was silent； tidal breathing as one does when dreaming。 'It reminded me of a girl I once loved。 The trouble was then； I thought I was still in love with her。'
'Where is she now？'
'I don't know。 She could be anywhere … anywhere。' She could feel the rise and fall of his chest and abdomen； as regular as the tide。 'She told 'me she loved me … she convinced me … I didn't know anyone could be that good at deceit。。。'
She smiled； half hidden in the dark。 'If you'd been a woman； you'd know all right。'
'Sometimes I think sex is for the animals。'
It was quiet for some time； just the intermittent hiss of late…night traffic passing outside； remote and inconsequential。 Jus…tine was surprised more by his tone； she had never before heard such bitterness and she found herself wondering just what had transpired between him and that girl so long ago。
Tm jealous；' she said。 She thought she might be taking an awful chance。 'I'm jealous of how much of yourself you gave to her。' He was quiet； beside her。 'Never again； Nicholas？' Only her side and hair touched him。 'Who is being punished？'
When he spoke； his voice was tight。 With what was he struggling？ 'She made me 。。。 feel。。。〃
'What？'
'Feel； just feel。〃
'Is that so terrible？〃
'And then she left me。 She went off with。。。' And he told her what he had never told anyone； flooded with shame。
Justine put her warm lips against his ear； whispered； 'Unzip me； Nicholas。〃
He reached out。 It came as the rasp of a log cracking； burnt through； subsiding into the hot ashes of the grate。
The top of her breasts shone palely in the firelight like the swelling crests of the sea at dawn。 Here； too； there were depths to be plumbed。 But the tugging he felt now went beyond his loins； a kind of tidal wash； covering his whole body； sweeping into his head。 'I missed you so much。' And not； any more； Yukio。
She could feel how that had been torn out of him。 'Yes；' she whispered。 'I can see that now。 I felt old and tired without you there。〃 She shrugged out of her shoulder straps。
'Let's not make love right away。'
Her eyes were glittery so close to him； the little fire in the far one like a beckoning beacon homeward bound。
'Say it again。'
'Justine； words sometimes have no meaning at all。'
'Then what does？'
His arms encircled her。 'I'll hold you；' he whispered。 'And you hold me。'
Her fingers brushed his skin； moving。
Fukashigi； the kenjutsu master； awoke at first light with the tendrils of something still in his mind。
The world； this early； was fog…shrouded； familiar landmarks rendered as in a pointillist painting。
Not a dream。 Fukashigi did not carry such things into the waking world。
Something had dragged him away from sleep。 The tendrils swirled。
And immediately he thought of Nicholas。
It must be time then。 And despite all his wisdom； Fukashigi felt the slight thrill of fear shiver him。
He had thought about this time often during long nights when sleep eluded him and now he knew that he had been deluding himself； thinking that this day might never dawn。
Here it was； after all this time。
Time； he knew full well； meant absolutely nothing。
Even with the distances involved； he felt the psychic tuggings like a storm pulling at the moorings of a ship。
The long years in China and Japan seemed like a mist…shrouded dream to him； like the world he saw outside his window。 The mind； he knew； could do much； play many tricks； and he wondered this morning which world was truly more the dream。 In a way； America could never be as real as those days and nights on the Asian shore with their spices and their mysteries。
There had been time then； unlimited time； it had seemed once； to plunge into each more involving puzzle。 And the joy he felt at their eventual unravelling was still unequalled in his life。
There had been； of course； several times when he had cause to regret the life he had carved out for himself。 It was； after all； a most perilous path； fraught with real and imagined dangers every step of the way。
Jealousy racked them all like a perennial ague that could never be fully assuaged。 There was resentment of anyone new。 And especially of one who sought to plumb the depths that had frustrated them all。
And…conquered。
Fukashigi sat up on his futon； hearing his bones creak。 Magic； he thought。 What a misunderstood word。 Typically Western。 He had to laugh。
Then he thought about Nicholas。 He did not envy him but then there was no envy in Fukashigi's heart； Had