Force.’
Michael gave her a look, and decided to humour her. ‘I think maybe we’re talking about two different things. There’s the one who’s sweet, innocent, maternal and only has
sexual feelings for you—’
‘Or pretends she has.’
‘You’re a woman – you see through it.’
‘I’m not sure Kelly Hart fits that category. She’s got history. What about the other kind?’
‘Well, I suppose she takes you somewhere else altogether. And she can have as much history as she likes. In fact, the more the better.’
‘And still be pure? Really?’
Michael looked at her warily, as if nervous of where she was pushing him.
‘Go on,’ Jenny prompted. ‘No need to be embarrassed.’
‘I suppose what she’s about, or seems to be, at least, is
pure
sex. Which means she’s buying into it as absolutely and completely as the guy.’
‘You think most women don’t buy into sex?’
‘We’re keeping this in the abstract, OK – I don’t want you taking this personally.’
‘I won’t,’ Jenny insisted, but she was already comparing herself with the mythical female Michael was conjuring.
‘I’m not saying most women are lacking something, I’m just saying that some women seem to possess a sort of black magic.’
‘You mean the femme fatale?’
Michael stared thoughtfully into his glass and then slowly shook his head. ‘No. It may not be that obvious.’
‘This is interesting.’ Jenny couldn’t help wondering whom he was picturing – she felt sure he was thinking of someone from his past, and felt a childish twinge of
jealousy. ‘Go on. Describe her – theoretically, of course.’
‘Quiet. Self-contained. Drops unspoken hints but makes you come to her. Knows when to look right into your eyes – and beyond them – then how to kill you by looking away.
She’s not a coquette, she’s somehow more direct than that, like there’s something oddly male about her.’
‘
Male
? Now you really are confusing me.’
‘Maybe that’s not the right word.’ He paused to reconsider. ‘This is going to sound strange, but it’s as if when you’re sleeping with this
woman—’
‘You don’t meaning
sleeping
—’
‘No, but the point is, it’s like she’s a man in a woman’s body – she’s after the same thing as you are. The same hit. And that’s what tips it all over
the line – having sex with her is like heroin, or devil worship. It’s beautiful because somehow it’s unnatural and dangerous.’
‘Dangerous how?’
‘I don’t know.’ He shrugged, becoming embarrassed.
‘It’s your word. It must mean something.’
‘I suppose she’s gives you everything you could dream of between the sheets, but when it’s over, there’s not a shred of nurture in her being.’ He tipped back his
wine and swallowed. ‘And that, of course, is what makes her not of this earth – when it comes down to it, she’s a witch. A demon.’
‘Meaning she’s not pure after all,’ Jenny said.
‘She’s pure lust. And that’s not a good thing.’
‘But it’s a drug.’
‘For a while, until you realize what’s missing. This woman is not going to be the mother of your children.’
‘What if she’s a mother already?’
‘There my powers of speculation end.’
‘You’ve never thought of me that way?’
‘Oh yeah, all the time. What do
you
think?’ He went in search of the TV remote.
‘You’ve worried me, Michael.’
He flopped onto the sofa. ‘You have compassion in your soul, Jenny. And that’s what I love about you.’
She was touched. ‘You mean that?’
‘You think I’d chop wood and cook lunch for a witch?’
Jenny sat next to him and tucked her arm under his. He hadn’t exactly said
I love you
, but he was getting there.
Jenny drove through the deserted Clifton streets experiencing an unfamiliar sensation of peace. Her drive into work usually involved a steady ratcheting of tension as the tasks
of the day ahead lined up against her in formidable
Michael gave her a look, and decided to humour her. ‘I think maybe we’re talking about two different things. There’s the one who’s sweet, innocent, maternal and only has
sexual feelings for you—’
‘Or pretends she has.’
‘You’re a woman – you see through it.’
‘I’m not sure Kelly Hart fits that category. She’s got history. What about the other kind?’
‘Well, I suppose she takes you somewhere else altogether. And she can have as much history as she likes. In fact, the more the better.’
‘And still be pure? Really?’
Michael looked at her warily, as if nervous of where she was pushing him.
‘Go on,’ Jenny prompted. ‘No need to be embarrassed.’
‘I suppose what she’s about, or seems to be, at least, is
pure
sex. Which means she’s buying into it as absolutely and completely as the guy.’
‘You think most women don’t buy into sex?’
‘We’re keeping this in the abstract, OK – I don’t want you taking this personally.’
‘I won’t,’ Jenny insisted, but she was already comparing herself with the mythical female Michael was conjuring.
‘I’m not saying most women are lacking something, I’m just saying that some women seem to possess a sort of black magic.’
‘You mean the femme fatale?’
Michael stared thoughtfully into his glass and then slowly shook his head. ‘No. It may not be that obvious.’
‘This is interesting.’ Jenny couldn’t help wondering whom he was picturing – she felt sure he was thinking of someone from his past, and felt a childish twinge of
jealousy. ‘Go on. Describe her – theoretically, of course.’
‘Quiet. Self-contained. Drops unspoken hints but makes you come to her. Knows when to look right into your eyes – and beyond them – then how to kill you by looking away.
She’s not a coquette, she’s somehow more direct than that, like there’s something oddly male about her.’
‘
Male
? Now you really are confusing me.’
‘Maybe that’s not the right word.’ He paused to reconsider. ‘This is going to sound strange, but it’s as if when you’re sleeping with this
woman—’
‘You don’t meaning
sleeping
—’
‘No, but the point is, it’s like she’s a man in a woman’s body – she’s after the same thing as you are. The same hit. And that’s what tips it all over
the line – having sex with her is like heroin, or devil worship. It’s beautiful because somehow it’s unnatural and dangerous.’
‘Dangerous how?’
‘I don’t know.’ He shrugged, becoming embarrassed.
‘It’s your word. It must mean something.’
‘I suppose she’s gives you everything you could dream of between the sheets, but when it’s over, there’s not a shred of nurture in her being.’ He tipped back his
wine and swallowed. ‘And that, of course, is what makes her not of this earth – when it comes down to it, she’s a witch. A demon.’
‘Meaning she’s not pure after all,’ Jenny said.
‘She’s pure lust. And that’s not a good thing.’
‘But it’s a drug.’
‘For a while, until you realize what’s missing. This woman is not going to be the mother of your children.’
‘What if she’s a mother already?’
‘There my powers of speculation end.’
‘You’ve never thought of me that way?’
‘Oh yeah, all the time. What do
you
think?’ He went in search of the TV remote.
‘You’ve worried me, Michael.’
He flopped onto the sofa. ‘You have compassion in your soul, Jenny. And that’s what I love about you.’
She was touched. ‘You mean that?’
‘You think I’d chop wood and cook lunch for a witch?’
Jenny sat next to him and tucked her arm under his. He hadn’t exactly said
I love you
, but he was getting there.
Jenny drove through the deserted Clifton streets experiencing an unfamiliar sensation of peace. Her drive into work usually involved a steady ratcheting of tension as the tasks
of the day ahead lined up against her in formidable
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