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Show 183 She remained happy as a colt all the way home and for as long as it took Lorin to fumble the lock into compliance and push the door open. Then a remarkable thing happened. Her smile, still arch and suggestive of adventure while they stood on the front step, faded in the living room into a tired memory of a smile. She stopped in the kitchen for a drink of water, and in wiping her chin with the cuff of her sleeve looked distinctly preoccupied.- He followed her into the bedroom where she stood for a minute staring into the closet, her mouth set in a thin line, the cords in her neck beginning to stand out. He sat down on the bed to watch. Without giving him a glance she stepped out of her wide, pleated skirt, pulled her peasant blouse with the blue rickrack off over her head, kicked off her buckled shoes, unhooked her bra and dropped it on the closet floor, and finally slid her white nylon underpants off, tossing them to the floor on top of the bra. To test his suspicions Lorin got up and put his arms around her from behind. His hands shook but he managed to enclose a warm breast with one of them (thumb across the nipple), and with the other he groped the familiar length of her torso, proceeding diagonally from her ribcage and pausing to dally at the navel before continuing on to stroke her groin with his fingertips. He even planted a burning kiss on the soft cleavage to the right of her shoulder blade, where the arm joins the body. She stood stiff and patient. "Perhaps we should hurry right along," she said finally. "Checking for bruises," he said. "We're quite late as it is," she said. He let go of her and crept off to find a clean shirt for himself in one of his cartons, his suspicions vindicated. For good measure she went through several changes while he sat on the bed with his knees drawn up and watched. With each new combination of skirt and blouse, skirt and sweater, |
