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Authors: Iris Astres
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placed a firm hand on her arm to interrupt the process.
“How can I help you?”
She rolled her eyes. “There’s nothing anyone can do. And do what, anyway? Safety is a myth. I could sacrifice the land I love, chase after security, and still meet with some tragedy, some terrible demise.” She shook her head and brought her foot down on the floor. “This is where I want to die. This place is worth any risk.”
“I could marry you.”
Dinah leaned back so far and so quickly that he had to tighten up his hold to steady her. She laughed, as though it were some kind of joke. “I don’t hate that idea,” she said, licking her lips. “But you’re not exactly the required local boy. You would bring a different set of dangers.”
“How would they know?” Stubbornly he fought the obvious.
“You know how,” she said with good-natured reproach. “Perfection. Symmetry. Flawlessness. Hell, around here, they could tell just from your manners.”
“Do you still love your husband?”
Her facial muscles seemed to flicker from the unexpected shift in subject, but she answered easily enough.
“Of course,” she said. “Some men are tall or smart or hairy; Cy was loveable.” She frowned into her glass. “But I don’t want to talk about me anymore. I want to talk about you and the Body House. Or are you sworn to secrecy about all the orgies and etcetera you got up to back there?”
TELL ME ABOUT your destroyed life and blown-up friends. That was a fairly good example of Dinah’s skill for social interaction. That would teach the man to stop her on her way to keeping busy. Busy wasn’t only busy; doing things was how she kept herself from being dumb.
“I don’t have any secrets,” he said easily. “I’ll gladly tell you all about the Body House if you’re interested.”
Dinah perked up. “I’m completely interested. Tell me all the filthy things you’ve done. There have to be some stories when you’ve had sex with a thousand women.”
“Thousands,” Malcolm said.
“That’s crazy.” Dinah shook her head.
“The number doesn’t matter. You’ve lived thousands of days; each one that comes is fresh and new and wanted, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Good point.
“So I know you don’t do it for money, but what is it then. Religion? Is it only sex, or do you really think you heal people?” Healing hadn’t been her personal experience and still if she were honest, she’d admit she’d felt something inside her change. There was a constant physical buzz low in her belly, as though the volume on her sexuality had been turned up all the way. She hummed and crackled with electric feedback at the memory of how he’d touched her. And then there were the strings. Not just one. They seemed to pop up everywhere. When she tried to move away from him, they pulled.
“I wouldn’t say it’s only sex. But I wouldn’t use the word ‘only’ with ‘sex’ under any circumstances. As for healing, that’s not how I view it either. I offer understanding and acceptance. An enactment of those things.”
“How?”
“The key is observation. And the vow we all make never to withhold what can be given.”
The shadows in the house were lengthening. Dinah contemplated turning on a light and thought better of it. She’d just learned Bods all vowed not to withhold what could be given, and she wanted to create a picture. Maybe more than one. Such images were easier to conjure in the twilight.
“Like what? What do you give? Besides the obvious, I mean.”
“Obvious?” It was one of his smiling challenges, the kind that made her want to wrestle naked with him. “Everything is understandable, but nothing’s obvious. Some women come to us for kindness. Some for excitement. They want domination, consolation, or just a partner in crime.”
“What would I want, do you think? Imagine I were at the Body House.”
He studied her, the smallest smile on his face. “For you I think the latter would prevail.”
“A
“How can I help you?”
She rolled her eyes. “There’s nothing anyone can do. And do what, anyway? Safety is a myth. I could sacrifice the land I love, chase after security, and still meet with some tragedy, some terrible demise.” She shook her head and brought her foot down on the floor. “This is where I want to die. This place is worth any risk.”
“I could marry you.”
Dinah leaned back so far and so quickly that he had to tighten up his hold to steady her. She laughed, as though it were some kind of joke. “I don’t hate that idea,” she said, licking her lips. “But you’re not exactly the required local boy. You would bring a different set of dangers.”
“How would they know?” Stubbornly he fought the obvious.
“You know how,” she said with good-natured reproach. “Perfection. Symmetry. Flawlessness. Hell, around here, they could tell just from your manners.”
“Do you still love your husband?”
Her facial muscles seemed to flicker from the unexpected shift in subject, but she answered easily enough.
“Of course,” she said. “Some men are tall or smart or hairy; Cy was loveable.” She frowned into her glass. “But I don’t want to talk about me anymore. I want to talk about you and the Body House. Or are you sworn to secrecy about all the orgies and etcetera you got up to back there?”
TELL ME ABOUT your destroyed life and blown-up friends. That was a fairly good example of Dinah’s skill for social interaction. That would teach the man to stop her on her way to keeping busy. Busy wasn’t only busy; doing things was how she kept herself from being dumb.
“I don’t have any secrets,” he said easily. “I’ll gladly tell you all about the Body House if you’re interested.”
Dinah perked up. “I’m completely interested. Tell me all the filthy things you’ve done. There have to be some stories when you’ve had sex with a thousand women.”
“Thousands,” Malcolm said.
“That’s crazy.” Dinah shook her head.
“The number doesn’t matter. You’ve lived thousands of days; each one that comes is fresh and new and wanted, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Good point.
“So I know you don’t do it for money, but what is it then. Religion? Is it only sex, or do you really think you heal people?” Healing hadn’t been her personal experience and still if she were honest, she’d admit she’d felt something inside her change. There was a constant physical buzz low in her belly, as though the volume on her sexuality had been turned up all the way. She hummed and crackled with electric feedback at the memory of how he’d touched her. And then there were the strings. Not just one. They seemed to pop up everywhere. When she tried to move away from him, they pulled.
“I wouldn’t say it’s only sex. But I wouldn’t use the word ‘only’ with ‘sex’ under any circumstances. As for healing, that’s not how I view it either. I offer understanding and acceptance. An enactment of those things.”
“How?”
“The key is observation. And the vow we all make never to withhold what can be given.”
The shadows in the house were lengthening. Dinah contemplated turning on a light and thought better of it. She’d just learned Bods all vowed not to withhold what could be given, and she wanted to create a picture. Maybe more than one. Such images were easier to conjure in the twilight.
“Like what? What do you give? Besides the obvious, I mean.”
“Obvious?” It was one of his smiling challenges, the kind that made her want to wrestle naked with him. “Everything is understandable, but nothing’s obvious. Some women come to us for kindness. Some for excitement. They want domination, consolation, or just a partner in crime.”
“What would I want, do you think? Imagine I were at the Body House.”
He studied her, the smallest smile on his face. “For you I think the latter would prevail.”
“A
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