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but us。 We all love him and he knows it。 Is that monstrous？'
He smiled。 'Sounds all right。〃 He moved round to the front of the couch； sat down； 'Feels nice。'
She followed him； said when she was very close； standing over him； 'You should feel it without clothes on。〃
He gave a slightly unfortable laugh。
Gelda walked towards the bedroom doorway。 She began to take off her silk blouse。 Before she had disappeared through the doorway； he had seen the flawless expanse of her naked back。 Despite the fullness of her breasts； she wore no bra。
'What are you doing？' He got up from the couch； stood uneasily with his hands in his pockets。
'Just changing。' He heard her voice drift back to him。 'Don't worry； I won't attack you。'
'I wasn't thinking of that；' he said not quite honestly。
'Good。'
He heard the sensuous rustle of silk against firm flesh。
'Do you want to e in；' she said； 'so I can see you while we talk？'
Tm all right out here。' He felt like a schoolboy on his first real date。
'Listen；' she said； 'you've seen my mind。 I can't imagine what would embarrass you about seeing my body。'
'Nothing；' he said automatically。
'All right； then。'
He stood where he was for a moment； feeling an outsider in this plush yet intimate landscape。 In his mind； he tried to summon up clear images of what she did here but he could find nothing。 He had an active imagination； at the moment it had shut down entirely。
He walked to the doorway； stood looking in on the threshold； a voyeur at his first peep…hole。
She stood with one leg up on the bedspread； putting on a stocking。 A stocking； he thought； not panty hose。 The perfect foot was dark； the flesh shining through the silk mesh so that the black was made pale； an altogether new colour。 The toes indented the spread as if she had stepped along the crest of a sand dune。 Her legs seemed endless。
She wore bikini panties； a girdle； both flesh…coloured； soft and lacy。 Otherwise； she was nude。 The effect was startling。
She twisted her head over her shoulder to look at him。 Her topaz eyes were very light。 She smiled ingenuously。 'There。' The voice was but a wisp。 'That wasn't so bad； was it？'
'I wish you'd put on some clothes。'
She walked across the room。 He tried not to stare at the movement of her breasts at each step but he had given himself an impossible task。 When she reached the wardrobe she raised her arms and his temperature at the same time。 She drew out a forest…green satin robe； came towards him。 'Is that better； Lew … I can call you Lew？ After all； I threw up all over you in the van； I ought to be able to call you by your first name。 At the very least。' She brushed by him； went into the living room with the ghost of a smile。
He detached himself from the doorjamb； wondering what he was doing still here； always on the job； that's me； he thought。 But what was really on his mind was his dark apartment crouching as deserted as Wall Street at a weekend waiting for him to return。 Going home to that seemed as out of the question as when it had been filled with Alison's scent。
'Should we go to bed now or after the food gets here？' He could not quite keep the anger out of his voice。 There was a degree of control he felt had abandoned him some time when his attention had been elsewhere。
Gelda turned in the middle of the room。 Her belted robe opened as if on cue and he saw the gleaming length of one leg。 'Is that what you think？' She was still smiling softly； like the gentle glow from a heavily shaded lamp。
'It's obvious； isn't it？'
'Is it？' One eyebrow arched。 'You know my sexual preference。'
Of course； he had forgotten。 Deliberately？ He felt an idiot。 He put his hands in his pockets again； turned away too embarrassed to apologize。 Mental sets； he thought savagely。 Isn't it odd how the eyes see one thing and the mind … that great plex monstrosity … makes leaps of illogicality to form conclusions。 He felt； abruptly； just as he had that scorching summer's day in Hell's Kitchen when not even the turned…on hydrants helped； when the steaming air hung like layers of blankets your well…meaning but misguided mother had wrapped you in when sick； impossible to take off。 Tempers were short and incendiary as if everyone had an itch they couldn't scratch。
The cry came through the wide…open window and he was racing down the dark narrow stairs and into the baking sunshine。 Just two doors away； he lay in the alley； his uniform dark with sweat and blood。 Trash cans lay tumbled around him； having divulged their slimy secrets as if in one last paroxysm。 The grey eyes were open and already glazing； eyes that had always reminded him of a storm…tossed sky。 Gentle eyes。
So this was how it ended for Martin Croaker。 After twenty…nine years on the New York City Police Force； lying sprawled in an alley piled high with garbage； surrounded by summer stink； fearful rats and incurious roaches； the wail of sirens forlorn in the distance； closing； shot four times forty feet from his own home。
He stared down at the corpse of his father and the world had spun around； canted dangerously on its axis。 He felt that； at any moment； its momentum and crazy angle would bine to throw him off。
That's what he wanted； of course； to run far； far away from this stinking hole； never to return。 Never。
But that was the easy way out； the coward's way。 Not Lew Croaker's way。 His father had taught him too well。
So he stayed on。 To join the police。 Old and grey； his mother had e to his Academy graduation and had cried as he was sworn in。
He had never found the man responsible for his father's death but； after a time； that pain； too； had been put to rest。
He felt her touch his arm； he hadn't realized the wound was still sensitive。 After all this time。
Tm sorry；' she said。 'I shouldn't have teased you。 I was just。。。'
'What？ You were just what？'
Her eyes lowered。 'Happy to be with you。' She tried to make a half joke out of it； failed。 'You make me feel。。。〃
'What？'
She looked up。 'Just feel。'
He felt torn。 'I bet you could do that and not feel a thing。'
She nodded。 'I could。 I'm an actress； of course。 Do you distrust me？ You couldn't。 Not after what you said to me in the van。 You took an enormous chance； telling me what you suspect about my father。 It was an idiotic thing to do。'
'That's me。 Always the idiot。'
'Yes。' Her voice was as soft as silk。
'You know； you could sell me anything。' He said it defensively； because she was so close。 He wanted her to know he knew。 He felt he needed that precaution now。
'No；' she said； 'I couldn't。 Not now； anyway。' She put her fingers along his arm； they seemed very warm。 The challenge； for myself； is to be honest with you。 It's what will make me happy。〃
There came the sound of muted chimes。'
She disengaged herself from him； disappeared into the old fashioned foyer。 Her voice floating； 'Hi； darling。 e on in。' Returning with her arm around a rather tall boy； dark…haired； almond…eyed。 Philip。 Croaker turned his back on the proceedings； stared out at the dazzle of the water。 A long barge laden with garbage wallowed slowly up…river； a tug at its side。 A man in a red and white tracksuit was jogging along the promenade。 He passed the barge； going the other way； and disappeared from view。 He and Gelda in bed … flash of flesh against flesh。
'What happened to you； darling？ Your face looks awful。'
Her voice was like the background chatter of a TV left on at low volume。 He wanted that calico e in so bad he could taste it： the satisfaction of putting a bastard like Tomkin away for twenty years。
'What in God's name happened to you； darling？ You look like you've been in a fight。'
'No fight； G。'
'Well； what then？'
'Nothing。 I fell down。。。'
There was a sailboat out there … can you imagine？ In the middle of the goddamned week。 The sail white against the patchwork colours of the buildings on the far shore； scudding along as effortlessly as a cloud。 No pressure out there on the river； just the wind and the salt spray and a long way until you reach port。 Your own master。 Her breasts heavy in his hands； her lips parting。
'。。。 In an alley。 The garbage cans …'
'Don't be an idiot； Philip。 And don't lie to