The Erection Set

“Want to find out?”

“No.”

“Better to just talk about it?”

“By far,” she said.

“We have a lot of talking to do, haven’t we?”

Sheila finished her drink and set the glass down gently. Her eyes came up and smiled at me. “I think so,” she said.

“You know women pretty well, don’t you?”

“I think so,” I said.

“Can we go someplace and talk?”

I put a bill on the bar and helped her into her jacket. Tod was looking at me as if I were in a cage and shook his head, then threw a wave as if he were giving up all hope and took the curse off with the kind of grin only one man can give to another. I grinned back and Sheila walked out ahead of me. When we reached the car she got in, sat there looking straight ahead a second, then said, “Somebody’s got to lose.”

“Always,” I told her

XVI

She opened the buttons on my shirt down to my belt buckle and let the edges of her nails trace little lines of fire down my chest. “Like?” she asked me.

“Nice,” I said. Overhead, the moon was a thin crescent in the black of night, fuzzing out occasionally behind the cloud barrier. The dim glow of Linton outlined the turrets and the Moorish-looking left wing of the old beach house and when I looked back over my head I could see the corner of the widow’s walk I had fallen from when I was six years old.

“You’re not paying attention,” Sheila told me.

“I’m enjoying myself,” I said.

“Men are supposed to be aggressive.”

“When the need arises.”

“I felt you. You have arisen.”

“Sheila, I think you have penis envy.”

“Weren’t we going to talk?”

I reached over and ran my hand down her leg. I could feel the muscles tighten under my fingers, then relax as if somebody had pulled down the handle on a rheostat. Her fingers on my chest stopped a minute, then started the tracing action again and ran under my belt, but it was still mechanical and forced, an actress on stage doing her part the way the script called for.

“What’s Cross doing?” I asked.

The tips of her nails dug in just a little bit before they softened. She didn’t even know what had happened. “Working. He’s a very dedicated person when it comes to business.”

I took my hand away and put it back under my head. Her fingers started teasing again and she rolled onto her stomach to look down at my face. “He should be home dedicating himself to you,” I said.

“We’ve been married quite a long time.” Her fingers tugged at my belt buckle and opened it. “I was seventeen on my wedding day.”

“What difference does that make? You should improve with age.”

“Perhaps if there were a difference, I could explain it. Indifference is the trouble. I told you he was a dedicated man.”

“You love him?”

“By all means.”

“And he loves you?”

“Yes. Certainly. But there are things other than love, aren’t there?”

She was propped on one elbow, her chin in her hand. I eased my arm down and ran my fingers in the naked valley between her breasts. I felt the muscular tic run across her shoulders and the fingers at my belt twitched slightly and become motionless. I patted her cheek gently and put my hand back under my head. The fingers started in again. This time the snap popped loose and she pulled the zipper down halfway, then started rubbing soft circles into my belly.

“What things?” I asked her.

Now the soft circles widened and deepened and the fingertips were delicate feathers searching, finding and barely touching. “Understanding, for one thing.” She squeezed gently and her breath caught in her throat. “You understand,” she stated.

“Sometimes you have to tell them, Sheila.”

Her hand paused and her eyes lifted to stare into the darkness. “I ... can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because there’s nothing to say.” She looked back at me again and I knew she was smiling. “I’d like to hit you with a big stick,” she said. “You know too damn much.” Her fingers squeezed again, deliberately hard and my breath hissed in between my teeth. “You’re awfully ready, aren’t you?”

“Obvious, isn’t it?”

“Really ready?”

“Really,” I told her.

“Let’s find out,” she said, and I lost her in the darkness. only the outline of her hair moving with the fluid motion of the waves that were breaking in the background, each roller seeming to come in with greater force until the tidal inundation swept up and over me in a thunderous crescendo and then the crescent moon fell back into place among the clouds and she was smiling down at me again.

“Nice?”

“Beautiful,” I said. “Nice?”

“Lovely,” she told me. She did all the little things and finished with the buttons on my shirt, then stood up, reached out her hand and pulled me to my feet. “Can I ask you something now?”

“Go ahead.”

“Why did you want to see me?”

“You invited me to, remember?”

“Don’t hedge.”

I dug cigarettes out, gave her one and lit them. “I was going to see if I could get anything out of you about your husband’s plot to grab Barrin.”

“Change your mind?”

“Nope. Just my approach. I should have simply asked, right?”