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Show 169 In my cabin, getting ready for dinner, I think about her. She, too, is probably preparing herself-washing her face or brushing her hair, perhaps at this moment veiling her body with a dress. I decide that she is putting on a brown dress, slipping it now over her head, pulling it off her breasts so that now it falls at her knees. I am especially interested in her legs. As for myself, I wear a tie. It is always the same tie and decorates whatever else I am already wearing. Paco gave me a number of fine silk shirts, made for him by his tailor in Barcelona. But I am very hard on them and I know they will not last me long. What sort of smell should I expect from her? Perfume seems unlikely, she does not appear sensational enough for that. Nor would I expect her to smell musky, of perspiration, as I surely do. Clean, she will probably smell clean, a slight scent of whatever soap she uses. And her breath, I am certain, will be fresh. Paco wanted to give me money before I left. For toiletries and the like, as he put it. I said no, you have done enough. I do not care to have you support my private habits. I have some money, I will buy my own toothpaste. I am especially interested in her legs. Through the port window above my bed, I look out into the night and see her dress falling slowly over her thighs, dropping like a curtain, again and again. The Aurelia is registered Spanish, but it has no real home. During the war, I am told, guns were put on it and it was used by |