“You didn’t sign,” she said.
He jerked the napkin back and scrawled his signature. “You are a person with very little trust.”
“Not where steaks are concerned.”
Doris’ quarters were on the frontside. Earth was almost full, low on the horizon. The richness of her, blue and white, made her a jewel in the sky.
“My God,” Doris said, halting as they entered to see the great living globe hanging there in the window.
“It’s always new, seeing it like that.”
“So beautiful,” she said. “You know, I’d like for all of them to be able to see that, to see how small and goddamned vulnerable she is, hanging out there. Maybe they’d think a little more clearly. Show them a closeup view of Mars, or Mercury, worlds totally inhospitable to man, and then show them that. How can anyone fight over anything so beautiful?”
“Actually, I guess, in a way, we’re the new nobility, so few of us have seen that.”
“Thank God you can’t see what we’ve done to her from up here,” Doris said. “Strip mines and underground nuclear tests and radioactivity in the air and sewage in the oceans. And she still manages to support all of us, after a fashion.”
“And only now and then strikes back with an earthquake or a drought,” Dom said, grinning.
“OK, cynic, you make the salad.”
The salad greens were grown hydroponically on the moon and were plentiful. The steaks were great treasures and were strictly rationed.
Doris put on a couple of antique music tapes, the sound turned low. They talked small talk, working side by side in the kitchen, having a pre-dinner drink. The steaks were cooked very, very carefully.
Doris ate with an eagerness which was fun to watch. She ate like a hungry man, no talk, no nonsense. Finished, she wiped her lips on her napkin and breathed a deep sigh of contentment. The few dishes were handled quickly, the washer turned on, recycled water doing the job. Doris poured brandy.
Earth was thirty degrees high, and to see all of her they sat side by side, facing the viewport, silent, the music soft and nostalgic. Dom had never felt better. The ship was coming along. The steak had been delicious. The brandy was one of the better synthetics. Doris leaned back, the long line of her throat a delicate curve. Her hair fell into sort of a frame for her face. She was wearing the short uniform. Her long legs were tanned by hours in the exercise room. She swung her crossed leg in time with the music.
There was something about the music which was very familiar, and they both noticed it at once. She had been humming quietly, now and then voicing a phrase, and he was aware of her as a woman. He had to clear his throat and look away.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that one,” she said, as the song ended. It had been their song. They’d danced to it many times during the Academy days.
He stood. He had to move or he’d do something which they’d both regret. He stood beside the port, and Doris came to him. As she passed the player she turned the volume up slightly. Another old, familiar song was playing. He sensed her nearness, felt her brush against him.
“We danced a lot to that one, too,” she said musingly.
He looked down at her. Was it possible that she felt the same thing he felt? She was humming again, swaying her body to the music, looking up and out to peaceful-looking old Earth up there in the sky.
The music changed to upbeat. “Hey. I can’t stand that,” she said putting down her glass. She took Dom’s glass and put it down and lifted her arms. He took her hand and began to dance. He got the feel of it after a few steps and they reminded each other of the old steps, laughing as it came back. Fads in music and dancing changed so fast that Dom couldn’t always remember which type of dance went with which, but Doris was an authority.
The music went soft and slow. Dom felt the warning bells go off as she came into his arms, put her cheek to his, and began to dance, close, dreamy. She was a perfect fit, almost as tall as he, a size to cuddle in his arms. He had to remind himself that women looked on dancing as something almost impersonal. To Dom, slow dancing was hugging set to music. Women seemed to attach less sexual significance to dancing, but to Dom body to body while swaying with the music was just as thrilling as body to body under any other circumstance. Ah, she was good in his arms, and he didn’t turn loose as one song ended and another began. He turned his head slightly and kissed the smooth, soft curve of her neck. She sighed.
It seemed to happen naturally. Lips to lips, they stopped dancing and the kiss went on for eternity and there was promise in her response. He had wanted that kiss for so long, dreaming of it for all of the long years since he said goodbye to her and went off on his first trip to Mars.
“Stay down,” Larry yelled, bending quickly to trigger the detonator.
Dom broke the kiss, pushing her away. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Earth got in my eyes.”
“I know,” she whispered, leaning toward him. “I wanted you to kiss me.”
His heart leaped. He moved toward her. She put her hands on his chest. He looked into her eyes in question.
“I’m not saying no,” she said. She looked away, biting the corner of her lower lip in thought. “I want to be sure to say this right. First, it’s been a long, long time since you kissed me like that, and I liked it very much.”
“I hated it.” He grinned.
“But I think you were feeling the same thing I can’t help feeling when you pushed me away,” she said.
“I was thinking about Larry,” he admitted.
“Yes,” she said.
He turned to face the port and watched a surface crawler moving across his field of vision. He was still thinking about Larry. He tried to view the situation from Larry’s viewpoint, thinking of him as being out there, somewhere, able to look back and see what was happening. Problem: a young widow. Solution: a man, but not just any man, a man who would love her and cherish her. He turned to look down at Doris’ profile.
“Would you think I was being silly as hell if I said I think Larry would approve?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “He knew about you. If he was ever jealous of my, uh, having given myself to you first, he never said so.”
“I’d like to know what you think,” he said.
“I’ve been intimate with two men in my life,” Doris said. “And I loved you with a big love once, damn you.”
“I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you,” he said.
“But you loved space more.”
“Guilty, I suppose. I’m older now. We’re together.”
“There’s that to think about,” she said. “We’ve got a job ahead of us. We’re going to be in crowded quarters for months with others.”
“There is that,” he said.
“The lady is not saying no,” she said.
“Just wait a while,” he said. “We could get married.”
“We could.”
“But you’re not so sure?” he asked.
She sighed. “I feel like a silly and indecisive teenager.”
“Can you love me, again?”
“Oh, I’ve always loved you, too. As a young girl loves in the deepness of first love, as a sister loves, as a friend loves.”
“That wasn’t a friend or a sister kissing me a few minutes ago,” Dom said.
She laughed. “Dom, if you want to make love to me you’ll find a most willing participant.” She looked him straight in the eyes. “Do you want to?”
“Yes.” He shrugged. “All right, dammit, you must have infused me with your middle-class morality and your sense of responsibility. You are infuriatingly right and I hate you, you smart-assed female.”
“There will be time,” she said. “When we get back from Jupiter.”
“Years and years,” he said, kissing her lightly and pushing her away as she went molten in his arms.