one of the great majority who frequented the naked beaches in preference to those upon which bathing costumes were compulsory. He knew what a naked woman looked like—but this was different. It was not the first time that he had kissed a woman—but it was the first time that he had kissed, and been kissed by, an unclothed one. It was the first time that he had been alone with one.
What was happening he had read about often enough—and, like most young men, he had seen his share of pornographic films. But this was different. This was happening to him.
And for the first time.
When it was over, when, still clasped in each others' arms they drifted in the center of the little cabin, impelled there by some odd resultant of forces, their discarded clothing drifting with them, veiling their perspiration-moist bodies, Grimes was reluctant to let her go.
Gently, Jane tried to disengage herself.
She whispered, "That was a warmer goodbye that I intended. But I'm not sorry. No. I'm not sorry . . . ."
Then, barely audibly, "It was the first time for you, wasn't it?"
"Yes."
"Then I'm all the more glad it happened. But this is goodbye."
"No."
"Don't be a fool, John. You can't keep me here."
"But I can come with you."
She pushed him from her. Somehow he landed back on the bed. Before he could bounce he automatically snapped one of the confining straps about his middle. Somehow—she was still wearing her sandals but nothing else—she finished up standing on the deck, held there by the contact between the magnetic soles and the ferrous fibers in the padding. She put out a long, graceful arm and caught her shirt. She said harshly, "I'm getting dressed and out of here. You stay put. Damn you, Grimes, for thinking that I was trying to lure you aboard the Sexy Eppy with the body beautiful. I told you before that I am not, repeat not, Olga Popovsky, the Beautiful Spy. And I'm not a prostitute. There's one thing I wouldn't sell if I were offered the services of the finest Gunnery Officer (which you aren't), in the whole bloody Galaxy in payment!"
"You're beautiful when you flare up like that," said Grimes sincerely. "But you're always beautiful." Then, in a louder voice, "Jane, I love you."
"Puppy love," she sneered. "And I'm old enough to be your . . ." A faint smile softened her mouth. "Your maiden aunt."
"Let me finish. All right, it's only puppy love— you say. But it's still love. But"—he was extemporizing—convincingly, he hoped—"but my real reason for wanting to come with you is this. I can appreciate now what Captain Craven lost when Epsilon Sextans was pirated. I can see—I can feel— why he's willing to risk his life and his career to get his revenge. And I think that it's worth it. And I want to help him."
She stood there, her shirt half on, eying him suspiciously. "You mean that? You really mean that?"
"Yes."
"Then you're a liar, Grimes."
"No," he said slowly. "No. Not altogether. I want to help the Old Man—and I want to help you . This piracy has convinced me that you Rim Worlders are getting the dirty end of the stick. I may not be the finest Gunnery Officer in the whole Galaxy—but I'm better acquainted with the new stuff than Captain Craven is."
Her grin was openly derisive. "First it's fellow-feeling for another spaceman, then it's international politics. What next?"
"Where we started. I do love you, Jane. And if there's going to be any shooting, I want to be on hand to do the shooting back on your behalf. I'll admit that . . . that what's happened has influenced my decision. But you didn't buy me, or bribe me. Don't think that. Don't ever think that." There was a note of pleading in his voice. "Be realistic, Jane. With another officer along, especially an officer with recent gunnery training, you stand a damn sight better chance than you would otherwise."
"I . . . I suppose so. But I still don't like it."
"You don't have to. But why look a gift horse in the
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