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Show 175 sure he was behaving himself as he stood there fanning her with one hand, stroking him craftily when he started to go soft. He was interrupted by Simon, who stood reading over his shoulder until Lorin had finished the sentence he was on and then cleared his throat politely. He was having a few people over to his apartment the next evening, Simon said. Since the Coach and Seven was closed Mondays, could Lorin perhaps come by, and bring Yvonne? He would be delighted, said Lorin. So would Yvonne. * * * * * * He suspected he had made his point by now. It had not escaped his attention that the still-life on his screened porch had begun to evolve phalluses and orifices disguised as stones, jugs, or ambiguous solids and shadows, or that his dreams the last few nights had contained interpretable images-hooded nuns entering the narthex of a church, spears flung at a faceless enemy but deflected, fingers cut from his hand. He was also aware that Yvonne's body had grown ripe and mysterious in the last few nights. It was probably time to talk things out. She seemed to acknowledge that they both knew something was the matter when, on three consecutive evenings, with no rehearsal to prevent her, she had not gone with him to the Coach and Seven. She would, she had said, if it was all the same to him, stay home and read, perhaps listen to FM music and nurse a swollen instep that had resulted from a slight sprain earlier in the week which he hadn't known about. She had met his eye as she said it, and he had not come home early any of those nights to catch her not being there. A party that they both went to might supply the tone necessary to make peace. They could enjoy themselves, come home pleasantly heated with wine, hold each other naked under the sheet and feel relaxed and secure, and she |