“But I must be boring you terribly.” He broke off abruptly at the thought, feeling chagrined. “I’ve been babbling away here and of course all this can’t be very interesting for you.”
“That’s not true!” Glory protested. “I’m really fascinated,” she said honestly. “Dad never has told me much about what goes on at Universal and I’ve always been curious. Please go on.”
So Don went on. And when he took his leave at the end of the evening, it was with a genuine sense of regret. What he’d anticipated as a business obligation had turned out to be a really enjoyable evening. And the boss’s daughter—for he couldn’t help thinking of Glory that way -- had left him quite smitten. He couldn’t get her out of his mind. Which was what kept him hovering in Preston B. Dawes’s office the following day. Don had been summoned to explain some details of a contract upon which he’d been working. The discussion was over, yet he remained.
“Yes, Don? Was there something else?”
“Sir, I wonder if I might speak to you for a moment on personal matter?”
“I suppose so." There was a note of reluctance in Dawes’s voice. He didn’t like getting involved in the private lives of the people with whom he worked.
“It’s about your daughter, Glory,” Don began.
Dawes looked at him sharply. He was completely against his subordinates intruding on his own family life. “What about Glory?” he asked.
“I was wondering if you’d object if I asked her out, sir. On a date, I mean.”
Dawes relaxed. “Why should I object? Glory dates whom she pleases. She doesn’t need my permission. After all, she’s eighteen years old.“
“I realize that, sir. It’s just that I thought you might mind—because of the differences in our backgrounds, I mean. And if you did, I wanted to save us both the embarrassment of your having to point it out to me.”
Dawes looked at Don disbelievingly. “I’ll be damned,” he said softly. “You know, I almost find that insulting, Corrigan.”
“I assure you there was no insult intended, sir. All I meant was—”
“I understand perfectly what you mean! You mean that there might be a chance of my being a snob, and if I am, you don’t want to offend me! That’s what you mean, Don, and I find the idea damned insulting. But I’ll relieve your mind anyway. I am not a social snob, and neither is my daughter. But you sure are!”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
Dawes shook his head and then smiled slightly. “It figures. The poor really are more socially conscious than the well-off. They’re much more aware of social distinctions. But it’s the man and what he accomplishes that really counts, Don, not the money, or the social standing, or the advantages his family may have been able to give him. You have proven -- and are continuing to prove -- yourself. There’s certainly no reason for you to feel inferior.”
“Sir,” Don said respectfully but firmly, “I don’t feel inferior. I never have. Perhaps my lack of experience led me to ask your permission to date Glory and perhaps the asking was unnecessary. But I intended it as a mark of respect for you and for Glory, not as a confession of my feelings of social inferiority. I’m sorry you misunderstood.”
Dawes grinned, and this time the expression was more pronounced.“Well said,” he told Don. “Permission granted. Now, if you can get your mind off my daughter, what say we get back to work?”
Don called Glory that night and she gladly accepted his invitation to dinner and a show. Indeed, she was as taken with Don as he was with her. His stylishly long blond hair, athletic build, and ruggedly masculine good looks appealed to her from the first. And she was caught up in the intensity of his personality—an intensity which until he met Glory had been directed solely towards his career.
They dated frequently during the year which followed. Their relationship blossomed and deepened. Both felt a love developing between them, but neither spoke of it. Also unexpressed was the strong physical attraction they felt toward each other.
On Don’s part this was really due to shyness and lack of experience. Always, he’d been too busy bettering himself to become involved with girls. He had no yardstick by which to measure what was and wasn’t permissible in expressing his feelings for Glory.
Glory, basically innocent, was still both more sophisticated and more eager for some physical display of emotion than Don was. Working all day as he did, his mind was frequently on other things. But Glory, who had lots of spare time, frequently indulged herself in daydreams of Don making love to her which might have shocked him had he known of them.
These held-down feelings came to a head the night of Glory’s nineteenth birthday. Don took her nightclubbing and they drank more champagne than either of them was used to drinking. It was about two in the morning when they decided to go for a hansom cab ride through Central Park.
Had Glory not been slightly tipsy, she probably would never have made the remark. “Don, why haven’t you ever tried to make love to me?” she asked.
He was a little taken back by the boldness of the question. “How can I answer that without sounding like a jerk?" he retorted. “If I tell you it’s because l respect you, it makes it sound like I’m not attracted to you physically, and that’s surely not true.”
“Then you are attracted to me physically?”
“Of course, I am. You’re a hell of a sexy girl, Glory -- in case I haven’t mentioned it before.”
“You haven’t. But when you kiss me, you sort of pull away right after, as though you were afraid of me or something.”
“Well maybe I am sort of afraid. Afraid I’ll get carried away and go too far; afraid you’ll resent it and maybe it will drive you away from me.”
“It won’t.” Glory’s eyes were half-closed and her hand was on the back of Don’s neck, gently urging him toward her to kiss her.
He did. It was a long kiss, warm, deep, stirring. The hansom moved slowly through the park in the wake of the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves and inside the cab Glory and Don were caught up in the sudden release of desire. The driver half-dozed as the horse trotted automatically over the well-known route; he was uncaring and oblivious to the awakening of passion in the cab.
Instinctively, Glory’s lips parted to Don’s searching tongue. She grew slightly dizzy with the erotic insistence of his kiss. She turned her body so that they were pressed together and clearly felt the telltale swelling of his penis against the silk cocktail gown she was wearing.
Her flesh burned at the pressure and she moaned softly, urgently. Don’s hand dropped from her shoulder and closed over the silky black material covering her breasts. Glory caught her breath sharply and closed her hand over his. Her heart was beating wildly and her breasts were rising and falling very quickly.
She slid lower so that his hand might have access to the low neckline of the dress. He grasped eagerly at the fullness of flesh which seemed trying to burst from the strapless bra she wore.
“Wait,” Glory said, pushing him away for a moment. She reached behind her quickly and undid the clasp of her bra. She pushed down the top of the dress and pressed her naked breasts against Don’s face. The nipples were erect, red and probing.
He inhaled her perfume deeply. His lips darted over her bosom, finally coming to rest in the clearly defined cleavage which halved it. Then he caught at the tip of one breast with his lips and felt it grow even more hot and rigid.
The hansom gave a sudden lurch and Glory cried out at the sudden, sharp piercing of Don’s teeth. He pulled away immediately. “I’m sorry, darling,” he said. “Did I hurt you?”
“No. Oh, no.” She pulled him back to her. She slid her hand inside his shirt and felt the warm, muscular chest, the curly hair which covered it so evenly, the quick pulsing of Don’s heart in a rhythm which seemed to match her own. She bit his ear gently and laughed affectionately when he tensed against her.