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Authors: Marco Vassi
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would reply.
A thousand years of conditioning seized Gail at that instant, and when she felt the weight of his penetrating glance, she hid behind a faint blush and went all over coy. He had presented her with his heart and mind and testicles, now resting in the palm of her hand. The feeling of power was delicious, and she didn’t want to relinquish it on the spot. It was not the man that she had power over, but the situation. The ball was in her court, and the nature of the game was such that she could take her time in returning it.
“I . . . don’t know,” she said, her voice clear and perfectly enunciated like that of a British actress on a small stage.
The relief that both of them felt was so palpable that the cat, disgusted at the crust that had formed over the meat in its plate, came back into the room, and sprang onto the couch between them, insinuating its body directly into the field of force generated by their mingled auras. They looked down at the animal and both smiled, their hands touching as they reached simultaneously to pet it. It was at once the ideal distraction and symbol, for in its presence they saw the child that would issue from their union.
“I’ve never been married,” Gail said.
“Neither have I,” Eliot told her.
“What does it mean?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. There’s the license and all the legal business. And it’s customary to live together. And then to have children.”
“And aren’t there fights, and infidelities, and all that?”
“I have friends who are married,” Eliot said. “And they manage the situation in quite a civilized manner. As far as fights are concerned, this is the first we’ve had in over a year, and it wasn’t much of a battle. Both of us are basically killers, so we aren’t likely to get into scraps. Only clumsy and mediocre people squabble. As far as infidelities are concerned, I imagine we can both be relied upon to continue the discretion and tact we’ve been practicing. I don’t know what you do with whom when I’m not with you, and I don’t want to know. I only ask that you act intelligently. And that you return me the favor.”
“We’re talking as though it were already settled.”
“It is in my mind,” he said, and when he checked into his mind he found that indeed it was. The decision had come upon him by surprise, but then he had earned a fortune by making just such snap conclusions. He believed that the intuition worked behind the scenes of consciousness, and when it emerged to take a bow, a wise man let it steal the scene. Thought, the rational faculty, served its purpose by figuring out how best to carry out the dictates of the hunch. Also, he worked very quickly totting up the variables. It would be pleasant to be married, to have a home to return to, to be able to escort Gail around in a legitimate manner. Also, as his wife, she would quit her job, and be free to travel with him. It would be fun to show her the world. She’d never been further from New York than Philadelphia, a fact he still couldn’t fully assimilate, having been in every country in the world except China. And on top of that, there would be the children. He already envisioned a son and a daughter. “And you?” he asked.
Gail stood up and walked to the window. It was a highly dramatic moment for her, and she surprised herself by feeling all the conventional emotions, going through all the stereotyped reactions. And then there was deep pulsation in her womb, where Eliot’s seed would be planted. At the same time, part of her could not deny its lust for the lifestyle his wife would lead, the travel, the charge accounts, the apartments in the major cities of the world. The sheer prospect of it made her dizzy. And Eliot was fifty-four, twenty-six years older than she was. When he died, she would still be young, and very wealthy. She immediately drove the thought away as unworthy of her, but it had made its point.
“I know this is going to sound
A thousand years of conditioning seized Gail at that instant, and when she felt the weight of his penetrating glance, she hid behind a faint blush and went all over coy. He had presented her with his heart and mind and testicles, now resting in the palm of her hand. The feeling of power was delicious, and she didn’t want to relinquish it on the spot. It was not the man that she had power over, but the situation. The ball was in her court, and the nature of the game was such that she could take her time in returning it.
“I . . . don’t know,” she said, her voice clear and perfectly enunciated like that of a British actress on a small stage.
The relief that both of them felt was so palpable that the cat, disgusted at the crust that had formed over the meat in its plate, came back into the room, and sprang onto the couch between them, insinuating its body directly into the field of force generated by their mingled auras. They looked down at the animal and both smiled, their hands touching as they reached simultaneously to pet it. It was at once the ideal distraction and symbol, for in its presence they saw the child that would issue from their union.
“I’ve never been married,” Gail said.
“Neither have I,” Eliot told her.
“What does it mean?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. There’s the license and all the legal business. And it’s customary to live together. And then to have children.”
“And aren’t there fights, and infidelities, and all that?”
“I have friends who are married,” Eliot said. “And they manage the situation in quite a civilized manner. As far as fights are concerned, this is the first we’ve had in over a year, and it wasn’t much of a battle. Both of us are basically killers, so we aren’t likely to get into scraps. Only clumsy and mediocre people squabble. As far as infidelities are concerned, I imagine we can both be relied upon to continue the discretion and tact we’ve been practicing. I don’t know what you do with whom when I’m not with you, and I don’t want to know. I only ask that you act intelligently. And that you return me the favor.”
“We’re talking as though it were already settled.”
“It is in my mind,” he said, and when he checked into his mind he found that indeed it was. The decision had come upon him by surprise, but then he had earned a fortune by making just such snap conclusions. He believed that the intuition worked behind the scenes of consciousness, and when it emerged to take a bow, a wise man let it steal the scene. Thought, the rational faculty, served its purpose by figuring out how best to carry out the dictates of the hunch. Also, he worked very quickly totting up the variables. It would be pleasant to be married, to have a home to return to, to be able to escort Gail around in a legitimate manner. Also, as his wife, she would quit her job, and be free to travel with him. It would be fun to show her the world. She’d never been further from New York than Philadelphia, a fact he still couldn’t fully assimilate, having been in every country in the world except China. And on top of that, there would be the children. He already envisioned a son and a daughter. “And you?” he asked.
Gail stood up and walked to the window. It was a highly dramatic moment for her, and she surprised herself by feeling all the conventional emotions, going through all the stereotyped reactions. And then there was deep pulsation in her womb, where Eliot’s seed would be planted. At the same time, part of her could not deny its lust for the lifestyle his wife would lead, the travel, the charge accounts, the apartments in the major cities of the world. The sheer prospect of it made her dizzy. And Eliot was fifty-four, twenty-six years older than she was. When he died, she would still be young, and very wealthy. She immediately drove the thought away as unworthy of her, but it had made its point.
“I know this is going to sound
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