always dressed in pure
silk. And yet she would do anything, and take it anywhere. That turned Gerard
on.
She said, as
calmly as if she were asking him what he wanted to eat for supper, “Have you
decided what you’re going to do about Evie yet?”
Gerard took out
his cigar. “Do?” he asked her. “What do you mean?”
“Well, she’s
not going to let you get away with it.”
Gerard
shrugged. “What can she do? She can only divorce me, and she won’t do that.
She’s too insecure; too dependent.”
“She seemed
very upset.”
“She’ll cool
down. She’ll drink the house dry, and then have a damned good weep, and that’ll
be it.”
“Do you want
her to cool down?”
Gerard looked
at Francesca closely. She had wide green eyes. Green as
glass.
“Yes,” he said
in a measured voice. “Of course I want her to cool down.”
“So you want to
stay with her?”
“Does it make
any difference if I do?”
“Of course it
does. Your home is still with her, instead of with me.”
Gerard watched
her for a while. Then he said: “As far as I’m concerned home is where I spend
the most time. You and I see each other all day, we
spend two or three nights a week together.
We go to the
theater. We have dinner.”
“But you belong
to her.”
“That’s where
you’re wrong,” replied Gerard. “Evie belongs to me.”
Francesca drew
on her cigarette. “I don’t really see the distinction. A slaveowner has just as
many responsibilities to his slave as his slave has to him. And besides, you
still sleep with her.”
Gerard set his
cigar down in the ashtray and stood up. Francesca came nearer, and he rested
his hands on her bare shoulders. He was smiling at her, and yet his eyes were
so remote and expressionless that she was unable to smile back.
“You’re
jealous,” he said. She wasn’t at all sure if he was joking or not. “No,” she
whispered. “I’m just demanding.”
“Demanding?”
“I want you. I
want your time.”
He ran his
fingers down the length of her naked back. He cupped one cheek of her bottom in
his hand, so that his fingertips just touched her in a sensitive place. He
kissed her, so lightly that their lips scarcely grazed.
“Right at the
moment, my time is preempted,” he said.
“I know. By Esmeralda.”
He nodded.
“Esmeralda is just as demanding as you. More demanding, if
anything. He seems cute, and old-fashioned, but underneath that
bandleader’s clothing he’s a goddamned man-eating alligator.”
She turned her
face away. “He frightens me.”
“He frightens
me, too. But his money’s good.”
Gcrard thought
of Esmeralda, the very first day that Esmeralda had come into his office, and
the arrogant way in which the Colombian had carefully tugged up one trouser leg
so that he could perch himself on the edge of Gerard’s desk. “I have a proposal
for you, Mr. Crowley,”
Esmeralda had
said. “Very unusual, but very profitable.”
Gerard had eyed
Esmeralda coldly. “I’m too busy for any new contracts. I’m sorry.”
Esmeralda had
smiled warmly. “You weren’t too busy last October 24th to run twenty cases of
AK-47 Russian machine guns into San Salvador, were you?”
Gerard had
remained hard-faced; but he had been deeply disturbed. He was relying heavily
these days on a confidential government contract to supply the rebels in
Afghanistan with ammunition for their M-60 machine guns, smuggling them over
the Pakistani border in convoys of jeeps, and the very last thing he needed was
a public revelation that he had also armed Marxist-Leninist guerrillas in El
Salvador.
“What do you
want?” he had asked Esmeralda pointedly. “No screwing around. What do you
want?”
“It’s very
simple,” Esmeralda had smiled. “‘I have a Japanese client who is looking for
research facilities in California... somewhere private where he can undertake a little medical work.”
“What kind of
medical work? What are you talking about?”
“Well, it’s not
much
silk. And yet she would do anything, and take it anywhere. That turned Gerard
on.
She said, as
calmly as if she were asking him what he wanted to eat for supper, “Have you
decided what you’re going to do about Evie yet?”
Gerard took out
his cigar. “Do?” he asked her. “What do you mean?”
“Well, she’s
not going to let you get away with it.”
Gerard
shrugged. “What can she do? She can only divorce me, and she won’t do that.
She’s too insecure; too dependent.”
“She seemed
very upset.”
“She’ll cool
down. She’ll drink the house dry, and then have a damned good weep, and that’ll
be it.”
“Do you want
her to cool down?”
Gerard looked
at Francesca closely. She had wide green eyes. Green as
glass.
“Yes,” he said
in a measured voice. “Of course I want her to cool down.”
“So you want to
stay with her?”
“Does it make
any difference if I do?”
“Of course it
does. Your home is still with her, instead of with me.”
Gerard watched
her for a while. Then he said: “As far as I’m concerned home is where I spend
the most time. You and I see each other all day, we
spend two or three nights a week together.
We go to the
theater. We have dinner.”
“But you belong
to her.”
“That’s where
you’re wrong,” replied Gerard. “Evie belongs to me.”
Francesca drew
on her cigarette. “I don’t really see the distinction. A slaveowner has just as
many responsibilities to his slave as his slave has to him. And besides, you
still sleep with her.”
Gerard set his
cigar down in the ashtray and stood up. Francesca came nearer, and he rested
his hands on her bare shoulders. He was smiling at her, and yet his eyes were
so remote and expressionless that she was unable to smile back.
“You’re
jealous,” he said. She wasn’t at all sure if he was joking or not. “No,” she
whispered. “I’m just demanding.”
“Demanding?”
“I want you. I
want your time.”
He ran his
fingers down the length of her naked back. He cupped one cheek of her bottom in
his hand, so that his fingertips just touched her in a sensitive place. He
kissed her, so lightly that their lips scarcely grazed.
“Right at the
moment, my time is preempted,” he said.
“I know. By Esmeralda.”
He nodded.
“Esmeralda is just as demanding as you. More demanding, if
anything. He seems cute, and old-fashioned, but underneath that
bandleader’s clothing he’s a goddamned man-eating alligator.”
She turned her
face away. “He frightens me.”
“He frightens
me, too. But his money’s good.”
Gcrard thought
of Esmeralda, the very first day that Esmeralda had come into his office, and
the arrogant way in which the Colombian had carefully tugged up one trouser leg
so that he could perch himself on the edge of Gerard’s desk. “I have a proposal
for you, Mr. Crowley,”
Esmeralda had
said. “Very unusual, but very profitable.”
Gerard had eyed
Esmeralda coldly. “I’m too busy for any new contracts. I’m sorry.”
Esmeralda had
smiled warmly. “You weren’t too busy last October 24th to run twenty cases of
AK-47 Russian machine guns into San Salvador, were you?”
Gerard had
remained hard-faced; but he had been deeply disturbed. He was relying heavily
these days on a confidential government contract to supply the rebels in
Afghanistan with ammunition for their M-60 machine guns, smuggling them over
the Pakistani border in convoys of jeeps, and the very last thing he needed was
a public revelation that he had also armed Marxist-Leninist guerrillas in El
Salvador.
“What do you
want?” he had asked Esmeralda pointedly. “No screwing around. What do you
want?”
“It’s very
simple,” Esmeralda had smiled. “‘I have a Japanese client who is looking for
research facilities in California... somewhere private where he can undertake a little medical work.”
“What kind of
medical work? What are you talking about?”
“Well, it’s not
much
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