She shrugged. "When the day comes that I can't out-think a lieutenant-"
I pulled away from her. "Hold it! Before we go any further-no more military stuff, okay?"
Colonel Lizard Tirelli of the United States Army, Special Forces Warrant Agency nodded her head in agreement. She unpinned her long red hair and let it cascade down to her shoulders. "Deal," she said.
Dinner passed like a dream.
She was too beautiful. I couldn't stop watching her. We traded a lot of embarrassed smiles and kept our conversation deliberately casual.
"I have to admit something," I said.
"What's that?"
"I-was jealous of you. I thought that you and Danny Anderson were-you know-lovers."
"Really?" She laughed. "Don't be silly. Danny's gay."
"Huh? You're kidding! I'll be damned. Is that why Duke-?" I shut my mouth.
"Probably. "
"Well. Gosh." I shook my head unbelievingly.
"I have to admit something too."
"What?"
"I was jealous that you were spending too much time with Lois Fletcher."
"No!"
"Yes."
"But she's-" I shrugged. "I just never thought of her that way."
"I'm glad-"
Eventually we moved to the bedroom and I started to tense up again. I didn't know why.
While I waited for her, I busied myself with bridegroom things. I turned the lights and the music low. I turned back the bed. Finally, I pulled off my clothes and slipped between the sheets to wait.
After all this time--
She came out of the bathroom wearing a nightgown so sheer two silkworms couldn't have spent more than an afternoon on it. She got into bed next to me and I wondered if I should reach for her. I wanted to.
I looked over at her.
She looked back at me expectantly. "Are you going to make the first move?" she asked. "Or should I?"
"Uh-" I said. This wasn't going to be as easy as I thought. "You are so beautiful......"
She stroked my cheek. "You don't need the compliments any more, Jim. We're beyond that." She added gently, "Now we're at foreplay."
I said, "I-I know this is going to sound stupid, but you're too beautiful. I don't know if I can make love to a woman as beautiful as you."
She looked like she was about to laugh-she smothered it quickly, compassionately. "I'll let you in on a secret," she said. "I'm really very plain. I walked into that bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror and said, `Ick. What a mess.' Really. But then I said, `But Jim deserves the best, so I'm going to pretend to be gorgeous, just for him.' And see, you believed it."
"I think you over did it," I said. "I hate to admit this-but I'm scared as hell!"
"You're kidding." She said it straight out.
"I am twenty-four years old," I said. "I lost my virginity when I was nineteen. I have been with three different girls in my life-four, if you count Ted. That's it, the sum total of my experience. I have never been with a woman as intensely beautiful as you are. And-" I added, "I have never been with anyone I cared about as much as you."
She was studying me thoughtfully. "You are scared, aren't you?"
"I'm terrified... that I won't be good enough......"
"Thank you," she said. "For being so honest." She reached over and put her hand on my chest. It felt like fire-like electricity. For a moment, all I could feel was that hand, those delicate fingers, the fingernail tracing a circle in the little patch of hair over my breastbone. After a moment, she said softly, "Listen, sweetheart. This isn't an audition. You're not being graded. Let me play Mommy for about two seconds here and I'll tell you something. The only thing that you need to do a good job is enthusiasm. You got that?"
"I've got lots of enthusiasm," I said. "So much so I'm afraid I'm going to burst a blood vessel."
"Good," she said. She shifted her position so we were lying side by side. "There is no right way to do this, Jim-so you can't possibly screw it up. And if you do anyway, I forgive you in advance."
I moved my hand to her breast. She was warm. My hand was cold. I was afraid to move it. I said, "I, uh-I can't help it. I feel like I should ask permission."
She didn't laugh at me. She took my hand in hers and held it. She kissed my fingers. She took a breath and whispered, "Sweetheart, you are so caring-but you have to stop thinking of sex as something you do to another person, and start thinking of it as something that two people share together."
"I'd really like that-" I said. "But I've never experienced it that way."
Lizard's expression remained open. She wasn't judging me. She was just hearing what I had to say. She squeezed my hand again. "Listen to me, stupid-" The way she said it, it was a term of endearment. "I'm going to tell you everything you need to know about sex."
"I don't think we have that much time," I admitted.
"It's all right. There isn't that much you need to know. It'll only take a minute."
She lifted herself up on one elbow and put her finger on my lips. Her fingers were exquisite. I kissed them.
"The only thing in the world that you really own," she began, "is the body that you live in. So that's the only thing you really have to share."
"I never thought of it that way," I said.
"Hush, child-I'm not through. Have you ever noticed that you never go to bed with anyone unless you're interested in their body?"
I nodded.
"Well, nobody ever goes to bed with you either without being interested in your body. Sex is about bodies. Either you like bodies, my dear, or you don't have sex."
"I like bodies," I said. "I like yours." I put out a tentative hand and let my fingers touch her arm.
"And I like yours," she smiled back at me.
"See-" I said, "that's the part I have trouble with. I never knew that."
"I know," she said. "That's why you're such an asshole. Cute, but still an asshole. Why do you have such a low opinion of yourself? Do you know that's an insult to the people you go to bed with? It means you don't think much of their taste either. It also means that you have to con people into your bed, and when you get them there, the best you can do is use them. Here's what I'm trying to tell you, my sweet lover-you can't have good sex with anyone else until you let yourself experience your own wonderfulness."
"My own wonderfulness ... ?" I squeaked. I cleared my throat. "I, uh-always thought that a person should be... um, modest."
"Hmp," she said. "Modesty is the most arrogant form of conceit. Modesty is an excuse to hide yourself, and that rips people off. If you're wonderful-and you are-then, share it. Don't you think people like being around wonderful people? Don't you?"
"Sure. But I'm not-what you said-wonderful."
She sat up and stared at me. "Who made up that shit?"
"Huh?"
"I said, `who made up that shit?' That you're not wonderful. Trust me, sweetheart-you are positively terrific."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
"This is making me very uncomfortable-" I said. "Couldn't we just get on with what we set out to do ... ?"
"No, we can't. Not until you let it in. I think you're wonderful." I looked away. She was too beautiful.
She put a hand on my chin and turned my face back to hers. "It's all right for you to think I'm gorgeous, huh? But not for me to think you're terrific?"
"But, I'm not-"
"I. Say. You. Are." Her tone of voice left no room for argument.
"I hear you-" I managed to say.
"Do you? Do you really? You need to let this in, stupid. I don't go to bed with losers. I chose you. Did you ever stop to think why?"