her. But she didn't try to cover herself, because Papa had often told her she should never be ashamed of her body. 'I knew I'd made a terrible mistake yesterday,' she went on helplessly. 'I should have let you see, before I asked. That's why I'm undressing now.'
'The hell you are,' he snapped. He reached to the floor, snatched up Domini's garment, and flung it at her. 'Now put that top back on, and thank your stars that I'm not whaling the daylights out of you. And don't go around displaying yourself in front of other men either!'
'I wouldn't,' she said, dismayed and hurt. Nervous now, she held the shirt against her young breasts, sure they had not met with his favour. 'But I thought . . . well, Papa always used to choose new women by looking at them first. His models have been undressing for him as long as I can remember, even Berenice. I thought you might change your mind if ...'
'I'm not in the market,' Sander interrupted, his voice brutal. 'I make love when I choose, and I don't choose to make love to a muddle-headed teenager who doesn't even know the meaning of the word no! Hasn't anyone ever told you it's the man who does the asking?'
'I thought . . .' Domini swallowed, bewildered. 'Well, I've read about women's lib. Nobody told me it was wrong. In fact, I thought it was the thing to do nowadays.'
Sander muttered under his breath, hooked his thumbs into his hip pockets in a gesture of resignation, and said wearily, 'Will you please move aside? And don't bother coming to see my work. Obviously you're not safe to have around!'
After that Domini stayed away from the shed, and Sander stayed away from her. Every time she saw him, his face turned grim. At first she tried smiling, until she realized that only deepened his frown. If he chanced upon her in the street, he looked through her as though she weren't there. If their paths seemed likely to cross in the house, he would turn and retrace his steps, slamming some door pointedly behind him. If he was with Nicole he would immediately drape his arm around his mistress's hip, spreading his long fingers in an intentionally possessive way. The sound of the bedsprings became aggressive.
Before too long Domini got the message. As a matter of course, she took to bedding down with a pillow pressed to her ear, just in case. She learned to pretend that Sander was invisible, just as he pretended with her. She threw herself into her classes and started to paint with a fury and dedication she had never shown before. She dated some of her fellow boarders and even let one of them kiss her, a disappointing and repugnant experience because he tried to deepen the kiss right at the outset, something she was too naive to expect at all. No one had ever described kissing to her and she had never read a contemporary romance. Startled by the affront, she bit his tongue.
It wasn't until later, lying in her bed and thinking of Sander, that she realized she wouldn't have done that to him. But then, he mightn't have done that to her. She made a mental note to ask Berenice or her father if that kind of kissing was natural. They always answered such questions without reserve and had once given her a remarkably explicit text on the subject of sex, complete with line drawings. The drawings hadn't covered mouths. She knew more about the act of love than she did about kissing.
She thought about Sander all the time. She wanted not to but couldn't help herself. She visited his Right Bank dealer several times, thinking that if she could not touch him, she could at least touch his sculptures. Their beauty and power enthralled her, but she touched only those sculptures that were not of Nicole. Those Domini hated even looking at. They made her feel as if she herself was only half ripe.
Much of the time she was dizzy with wanting, imagining the feel of him from the few fleeting contacts she had had. She was sure she was in love with him; she had read the great classics of literature and had formed the
'The hell you are,' he snapped. He reached to the floor, snatched up Domini's garment, and flung it at her. 'Now put that top back on, and thank your stars that I'm not whaling the daylights out of you. And don't go around displaying yourself in front of other men either!'
'I wouldn't,' she said, dismayed and hurt. Nervous now, she held the shirt against her young breasts, sure they had not met with his favour. 'But I thought . . . well, Papa always used to choose new women by looking at them first. His models have been undressing for him as long as I can remember, even Berenice. I thought you might change your mind if ...'
'I'm not in the market,' Sander interrupted, his voice brutal. 'I make love when I choose, and I don't choose to make love to a muddle-headed teenager who doesn't even know the meaning of the word no! Hasn't anyone ever told you it's the man who does the asking?'
'I thought . . .' Domini swallowed, bewildered. 'Well, I've read about women's lib. Nobody told me it was wrong. In fact, I thought it was the thing to do nowadays.'
Sander muttered under his breath, hooked his thumbs into his hip pockets in a gesture of resignation, and said wearily, 'Will you please move aside? And don't bother coming to see my work. Obviously you're not safe to have around!'
After that Domini stayed away from the shed, and Sander stayed away from her. Every time she saw him, his face turned grim. At first she tried smiling, until she realized that only deepened his frown. If he chanced upon her in the street, he looked through her as though she weren't there. If their paths seemed likely to cross in the house, he would turn and retrace his steps, slamming some door pointedly behind him. If he was with Nicole he would immediately drape his arm around his mistress's hip, spreading his long fingers in an intentionally possessive way. The sound of the bedsprings became aggressive.
Before too long Domini got the message. As a matter of course, she took to bedding down with a pillow pressed to her ear, just in case. She learned to pretend that Sander was invisible, just as he pretended with her. She threw herself into her classes and started to paint with a fury and dedication she had never shown before. She dated some of her fellow boarders and even let one of them kiss her, a disappointing and repugnant experience because he tried to deepen the kiss right at the outset, something she was too naive to expect at all. No one had ever described kissing to her and she had never read a contemporary romance. Startled by the affront, she bit his tongue.
It wasn't until later, lying in her bed and thinking of Sander, that she realized she wouldn't have done that to him. But then, he mightn't have done that to her. She made a mental note to ask Berenice or her father if that kind of kissing was natural. They always answered such questions without reserve and had once given her a remarkably explicit text on the subject of sex, complete with line drawings. The drawings hadn't covered mouths. She knew more about the act of love than she did about kissing.
She thought about Sander all the time. She wanted not to but couldn't help herself. She visited his Right Bank dealer several times, thinking that if she could not touch him, she could at least touch his sculptures. Their beauty and power enthralled her, but she touched only those sculptures that were not of Nicole. Those Domini hated even looking at. They made her feel as if she herself was only half ripe.
Much of the time she was dizzy with wanting, imagining the feel of him from the few fleeting contacts she had had. She was sure she was in love with him; she had read the great classics of literature and had formed the
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