She led him into her bedroom. “Sleep here,” she said. “You don’t have to get up any special tune, do you?”
“What for?”
“I didn’t think so, but there’s a clock on the dresser if you want it.” She turned and started out of the room.
“Jan—”
“I have to go now, Mike.”
“Hang on a second. Did you like the way I sang tonight?”
“Silly. You know I did.”
“I was singing for you, you know.”
She didn’t like this. The conversation was getting dangerous, dangerous for both of them. “I have to go now,” she repeated.
“I was singing for them, too,” he went on. “I knew what they wanted and that’s what they go. But if you hadn’t been there I couldn’t have pulled it off.”
“Mike—”
He took a step toward her and she wanted to back away from him. She had to step back. But she couldn’t move at all.
“I need you,” he said. “I’ll never be able to do anything without you.”
Then he was standing much too close to her and she wanted to get away but she couldn’t seem to move her feet or put her hands in front of her face or even turn away. He was in front of her with his arms reaching out for her and there was nothing she could do about it. He was strong and she was weak. He was there and she was there and he was going to kiss her, and the fact that she didn’t want to be kissed didn’t seem to matter. She couldn’t prevent what was happening.
His hands took hold of her shoulders. His body came even closer to her, almost touching her, and his hands were strong on her shoulders without hurting her at all. He was pressing her close to him and still she didn’t turn away, still she didn’t even lower her head or push or struggle.
And then he was kissing her.
His lips were like his hands, big and strong and strangely gentle. He kissed her again and his hands released her shoulders and encircled her body, holding her gently but firmly against him.
She closed her eyes.
Something was wrong. She enjoyed the kiss, enjoyed being kissed by him, and that was not right at all. His arms shouldn’t feel comfortable around her. He was a man and she didn’t want men, and that made it thoroughly and completely wrong.
Wrong.
But she didn’t protest when he led her to the bed, didn’t struggle when he made her lie down or when he lay down beside her, didn’t try to escape when his arms went around her again and his lips found hers. He was kissing her again and, suddenly and incredibly, she was returning the kiss. Her hands met behind his back and his body felt so solid against her, so strong and hard, and it was all so bad and good at once.
“Mike—”
He kissed her again, harder than before, and his hands touched her and excited her. She didn’t understand what was happening to her, knowing only that it was radically wrong, that she must be very tired and very upset for this to be happening.
She felt herself trembling under his big hands. Her body stirred in response to his. She was afraid of him and afraid of herself and afraid of what they were doing.
“Stop—”
He didn’t stop. He didn’t seem any more able to stop than she was to stop him, and she felt herself enjoying it, yet she had to stop, had to stop him before anything happened.
“No!”
His hands were all over her body, fumbling with her clothing, preparing her for what was going to happen. Still excited, she began to struggle, fighting to get loose. But she couldn’t get away.
She had to stop him. There was only one way to do this, only one course open to her, and she took it.
Hardly thinking, she drove her knee up into him, hard, hurting him. He let out a small cry and fell away from her, doubled up in pain. His teeth were clenched tight and she could see him struggling to get his breath, fighting to keep from screaming. He moaned again and slipped from the bed to the floor.
“Mike! Oh, God—”
“Jan, I’m sorry. I’m so damned sorry.”
“No, it was my fault. I—”
“It was mine.” His teeth were still clenched and he was trying to talk over the pain. “I should have stopped when you told me to but I couldn’t, I just—”
“You couldn’t help it.”
“I should have,” he insisted. “Jan, I love you so much!”
“No,” she said. “No, you can’t. You can’t.”
When he looked up at her she could see the tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes. His eyes were begging with her and arguing with her and holding back tears all at once. She stood up from the bed and began straightening her clothing like a person in a dream while he was saying, “Jan, I love you. I love you!”
“No!” The words came out in a rush and she didn’t attempt to hold them back. “You don’t love me. You think you love me but you can’t because you don’t know me. Mike, you don’t know what I am!”
She turned and ran from the apartment, slamming the door behind her and rushing through the hallway and out of the building onto the street.
15
Laura was watching her intently from the couch when she walked into the apartment. There was some new and unfamiliar quality present in her eyes, some emotion Jan could see but could not identify.
“Where were you so long?”
It was a question, not an accusation. But Jan felt guilty immediately. Her hands began to tremble and she couldn’t manage to control them even though she clenched them. What was the matter with her?
“I got tied up,” she said, lamely.
“What kind of rope did they use?”
“Huh?”
“It’s after eleven, honey. Where were you all this time?”
“I—”
She saw that Laura was staring hard at her, noticing the way her hands were shaking. “Jan,” she said, softly, “what’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? Honey, you’re shaking like a leaf. Come over here and tell me about it.”
She walked to the sofa and sat down, knowing that she had to tell Laura what had happened but not knowing where to start. She knew that it was nothing, that it had happened because she was tired and that it didn’t mean anything. But how could she tell Laura?
“Jan.”
“Yes?”
“Jan, something’s got you all in knots tonight. What is it?”
“It’s nothing, really.”
“That’s possible. But don’t you think you ought to tell me about it?”
Silence.
“Jan? Sweets, there’s nothing to be afraid of. Are you afraid you’re going to hurt me?”
Silence. Her hands were shaking more violently.
“Jan, it hurts me more when you’re afraid.”
She closed her eyes. Laura was right — she had to talk, had to get it out of her system.
Slowly, haltingly, she began. She started from the time she left the apartment while Laura was still sleeping and went over the early part of the day, leaving nothing out. As she spoke her words flowed more smoothly, until by the time she got to Mike’s appearance the words followed each other easily, fluently. It was no effort to speak, no effort to recount everything that had taken place.
She did not look at Laura while she spoke. At first she kept her eyes shut, trying to lose contact with everything but the story she was telling. Later she focused her eyes on a lamp across the room.
Laura held her hand while she talked but this did not distract her. By the time she finished her hands had stopped trembling.
Laura remained silent, not moving at all, not saying a word. There was silence all over the apartment, hanging from the ceiling, pushing against the walls, weighing on the floor. A clock ticked mechanically in the bedroom and the rain lashed at the window.