Read Online Tengu by Graham Masterton - Free Book Online Page A

stranger.
    Mr. Esmeralda
said, “Go on,” coaxingly, but she shook her head.
    “Well,” he
said, leaning back on the cushions of the couch, “whatever you were going to
say, it couldn’t possibly have affected the way I think about you.”
    “About me? You scarcely know me.”
    “I know you, my
dear Mrs. Crowley, as well as any unhappy woman needs to be known. In fact, my own view is that unhappy women hardly need to be known
at all. Only two things matter.
    Their unhappiness, and their beauty. You have both.”
    She looked
toward the liquor cabinet. She bit her lip. Then she looked back at Mr.
Esmeralda.
    “Are you trying
to make a pass?” she . ked him.
    He smiled
silently for a moment, and then he let out a sharp little bark of laughter.
    “I don’t see
what’s so funny,” she said. She could hear how much her voice was slurring.
    “Nothing is
funny,” said Mr. Esmeralda. “And then again, everything is funny. Yes, I am
trying to make a pass.”
    She blinked at
him. “Why?”
    “Why? That is
one question that no woman has ever asked me before. My dear Mrs. Crowley,
don’t you know why?”
    “Perhaps. But I want to hear you say it.”
    “Then I shall.
I am trying to make a pass at you because you are a delicate, beautiful woman.
You are sad, and you are drunk. Your husband has temporarily deserted you for a
receptionist with a noticeable bust but no IQ, and therefore you are prey to
any man who makes you feel attractive and confident once again.”
    Eva pressed the
heels of her hands against her forehead. Mr. Esmeralda sat with his legs neatly
crossed, watching her.
    Eva said, “You
must think I’m a fool.”
    He shook his
head. “Not at all. There are only two fools in this
menage. Your husband, for rejecting you; and me, for laying
my heart so openly on the line. I risk frightening you away. I know
that. But if I don’t make love to you now–who knows, your husband may decide to
come back tomorrow, and my chance will be gone.”
    “You want to
make love to me now?”
    “I’m rushing
you?”
    She threw her
head back and tried to laugh, but all that came out was a strangled,
high-pitched hih-hih-hih. She turned to him, her eyes watering and her hand
pressed over her mouth.
    “I amuse you?”
Mr. Esmeralda asked.
    “No,” she said.
“No, you don’t amuse me.”
    “You laughed,”
he pointed out.
    “Yes.” Then,
more softly, “Yes.”
    She stood up.
“I laughed because you frighten me.”
    He watched her
carefully. “I told you I might be a robber,” he said. “Or a
rapist.” She didn’t answer. She couldn’t understand the feelings rising
inside her stomach. What was she doing here? Where was this place, with its
intolerable afternoon light and its pale furnishings?
    She said,
without looking at him, “The twins will be home in a quarter of an hour.”
    He didn’t move.
His eyes were liquid and dark; the eyes of a conjuror, or a fairground
hypnotist.
    “We can’t,” she
whispered hoarsely. “There isn’t time.”
    Mr. Esmeralda
thought about that for a while, and then nodded. Eva crossed the room and sat
down opposite him, on a natural-colored canvas chair with X-shaped chrome legs.
She hated the chair, but somehow her discomfort in it made her feel better. More real.
    She said, “I
need to know who you are.”
    He lifted an
eyebrow.
    “I don’t mean
that’s a prerequisite” she added, hurrying her words. “I mean–I’m not saying
that if I know who you are, if you tell me– that I’ll...”
    Mr. Esmeralda
nodded again. “I understand.”
    She breathed
out. She could smell the gin on her own breath. “I’m afraid you’ve caught me at
a bad time,” she said. She hated the sound of apology in her voice. After all,
this was her apartment. This was her marriage. Her pain. But somehow Mr. Esmeralda was the kind of man who invited apologies. He was so calm , so self-possessed, that she couldn’t imagine him ever
having done anything wrong. Not socially,