Read Online The Victorious Opposition by Harry Turtledove - Free Book Online

buzzing in the bushes by the road,” Ernie said. “One of these days, we are going to have to settle his hash.”
    “I say things like that on the stump, and people look at me like I’m crazy,” Sylvia said. “Sometimes I start to wonder myself, you know what I mean?”
    He leaned forward and, with startling gentleness, let his hand rest softly on hers. “You have more sense than anybody I have seen for a hell of a long time, Sylvia,” he said. “If anyone tries to tell you any different, belt the silly bastard right in the chops.”
    That had to be the oddest romantic speech Sylvia had ever heard. But, where most of the so-called romantic speeches she’d heard either made her want to laugh or made her want to kill the man who was making them, this one filled her with heat. That in itself felt strange and unnatural. She’d known desire only a handful of times since her husband didn’t come back from the war.
    “Let’s go to my flat,” she murmured. “My son’s married and on his own, and my daughter works the evening shift.”
    Ernie jerked his hand away as if she were on fire. “Did you forget?” he asked harshly. “I am no good for that. I am no damn good for that at all.”
    He’d told her the same thing once before. It had balked her then. Now . . . “There are other things we could do. If you wanted to.” She looked down at the tabletop. She felt the heat of embarrassment, too. She didn’t think she’d ever said anything so risqué.
    “I will be damned,” Ernie muttered, and then, “You will not be disappointed?”
    “Never,” she promised.
    “Christ,” he said again, only this time it sounded more like a prayer than a curse. He got to his feet. “Maybe you are lying to me. Maybe you are lying to yourself. I am asking to get wounded again. I know goddamn well I am. But if you do not change your mind in one hell of a hurry—”
    “Not me,” Sylvia said, and she got up, too.
    Closing the door to the apartment behind them, locking it afterwards, seemed oddly final, oddly irrevocable. Going into the bedroom once she’d done that might almost have been anticlimax. Sylvia wished it could happen without undressing in front of a near stranger. She knew too well she’d never been anything out of the ordinary for looks or for build.
    Ernie treated her as if she were, though. By the way he touched her and stroked her and kissed her, she might have been a moving-picture actress, not a fisherman’s widow. He did know what to do to please a woman when he was no longer equipped to do one thing in particular. Sylvia rediscovered just how lonely taking care of herself was by comparison.
    Only a little at a time did she realize how much courage he’d needed to bare himself for her. His body was hard and well-muscled. His mutilation, though . . . “I’ll do what I can,” Sylvia said.
    “I’ll tell you a couple of things that sometimes can help, if you don’t mind,” Ernie said.
    “Why would I mind?” Sylvia said. “This is what we came here for.”
    He told her. She tried them. George had liked one of them. The other was something new for her. It wouldn’t have been high on her list of favorite things to do, but it did seem to help. Ernie growled like some large, fierce cat when he finally succeeded.
    “Lord,” he said, and bent down to pull a pack of cigarettes from a pocket of the trousers that lay crumpled by the bed. Lighting one, he went on, “There is nothing like that in all the world. Nothing else even comes close. Sometimes I forget, which is a small mercy. Once in a while, everything goes right. That is a large mercy. Thank you, sweetheart.” He kissed her. His lips tasted of sweat and tobacco.
    “You’re welcome,” Sylvia said.
    “Damn right I am,” he told her.
    She laughed. Then she said, “Give me a smoke, too, will you?” He did. She leaned close to him to get a light from his. He set a hand companionably on her bare shoulder. She liked the solid feel of him. He