She said, over her shoulder, "Are you sure that I'm not, what is the Yankee… uh, that is, American phrase, twisting your arm, in view of your beliefs in moderation?"
He cleared his throat. "Oh, no. No. I indulged very little at the party."
"Champagne?"
The inevitable goddamned champagne. The Russkies seldom drank anything at all but champagne and vodka. But he said, not wanting to place even the slightest of obstacles in the progress of the evening,
"Excellent."
She returned with two glasses of the bubbly wine, handed him one, and took her place across from him.
Catherina said accusingly, "If you don't stop staring at me like that, I'll put something on over my…
bosom. Don't women in the States have breasts?"
"Oh, sorry," he said, clearing his throat and bringing his eyes up to her face. And then, in an attempt at Page 40
gallantry, "Not as spectacular as yours."
She said, "Thank you," and then, "Cheers, cheers, as you Americans say."
He had never heard that as an American toast, but he said, "Cheers, cheers," and they both drank.
She made a rueful mouth and said, as though in amusement, "You know, I have a confession to make to you."
He looked at her.
She said, "In spite of all I said in Malaga, on the tapa hunt, about not wanting to roll in the hay. Well…
when I saw you take up Vovo's challenge… for me. I… well, I… felt regrets."
The cold went through him.
He stuttered, "I beg your pardon?" This simply couldn't be happening.
She laughed in self-deprecation. "Despite your feelings about moderation, and meekness, and well… uh, moderation in all things. I… well, I decided I wanted to spend this last night in Spain… well, with you."
"Holy smokes," he said.
He hurried to his feet, almost forgetting to put the glass of wine down, and almost stumbling over the rug in getting around to her.
She laughed as she shot to her own feet and slipped into his arms. "Mike, oh Mike," she said as he kissed her in such a way that Old Man Hemingway would have been proud of him.
Catherina's full mouth had been constructed with kissing in mind, without doubt. They stood there and proved that fact to the satisfaction of both of them. He had one of her full half-globes in the palm of his right hand, and hated the fact that their position was such that he couldn't be utilizing his left hand for the same purpose. He could feel the nipple hardening. Catherina was obviously far from frigid.
She said, finally, "The bedroom is in here," and, taking him by the hand, she led the way.
There were French windows leading off onto the terrace, which overlooked the moonlit sea. The moon was almost full. She didn't turn on the lights; the moon provided all the light they needed. It couldn't have been a more romantic setting for first love if it had been designed by Hollywood. It was a perfect set.
She came into his arms again for a brief moment and then stood back and with a very slight smile began to disrobe for him. She did it very slowly, deliberately provocatively. Mike had seen her, of course, in the briefest of bikini type bathing suits-or less-and so was prepared for her just-short-of-lush figure. But he sucked in breath when she was fully nude. Her pubic hair was almost, not quite, as blonde as that on her head. Most blondes, it had been his experience, were more apt to be dark there. Catherina was not only blond but the shock was abundant, another thing that Mike Edwards had always liked in a woman.
She posed a moment for him, proudly, knowing he would like that, her arms at her sides, the palms of her hands slightly out, somewhat like a Siamese dancer. He had never been so aroused.
She said softly, "Do you like me? Would you like to… have me?"
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His voice was hoarse. "Yes, Yes, you are perfect, Catherina."
She sat on the side of the bed and said in mock accusation. "But you remain fully clothed. You'll have to get out of that… monkey suit, won't you? It doesn't seem tailored with the act of… love, in mind. Here, let me help you."
Her shapely, soft hands began fumbling with the unfamiliar hooks and buttons of the matador's costume.
Mike shucked out of the jacket, tossed it to one side, not noticing if it hit the chair he aimed at or not.
When he was stripped, she complimented him. "My, my," she said. "Do you think I dare?" It most certainly didn't hurt his male ego.
As nude as she, he sat down next to her.
"Kiss me," she murmured sensuously.
He began to bend, but she said. "Not there, silly. You can do that later, if that's one of the things you like. It is one of the things I like, very much, though I do not often do it. But for now, kiss me on the mouth, I find you Americans very apt at kissing."
He gently ran his hand over her slightly rounded belly and then over a hip, as he kissed her. Her body was absolutely silken.
"How many Americans have you kissed, to be able to come to a decision such as that?" he said heavily, as he took her lips again.
"Only one," she murmered. "You."
He pushed her gently onto her back. They hadn't even taken the time to turn down the bed clothing, but that could come later-if it was ever necessary to come. Such matters were not important in the urgency of the situation.
"What can I do to make you happy?" he said, still hoarse. He couldn't keep his hands from her crotch, his lips from her nipples.
"Anything you do will make me happy-except if you take too long. I'm… I'm raging for you. Please, put a pillow under my hips. I want all of you… all the way in. I can't stand it."
That direction accomplished, he leaned over her for a moment, admiring her female body, her ultimately feminine body.
She grasped his erection in her hand and murmured, "Is this for me, darling? All of it?"
"All of it." He descended upon her slowly.
She directed his entry, and then arched up almost as though desperately. Catherina obviously loved the act of love. "Oh, slowly," she moaned. "Deeply, but slowly. I want this first one to last ever so long. Oh, that feels so terribly good."
She was a talker. One more thing in her favor, so far as Mike was concerned. It gave him an added Page 42
excitement, gasping, moaning and talking her pleasure as he performed with her.
Mike Edwards was far from a novice in the field of sex. But he had never been so moved as by this girl.
It nearly seemed as though it was his first time; his first real time. He judged himself carefully, timing himself by her little moans and her gasps of pleasure and by the rapidity of her movements. He was _able to bring them to orgasm simultaneously and she gave a small shriek as she . felt it coming.
They stretched out on their backs and relaxed, touching only to the extent of holding hands.
He said, "Do you have a full-time male friend in Moscow?"
"No," she told him. "And you? Do you have a fiancee in America? Or anywhere else, for that matter?
Jealousy is a bit ridiculous, under the circumstances, but I feel I will be jealous if you answer yes."
"No," he said, quite truthfully.. "There is no one. Catherina, somehow or other I'm going to come to Moscow."
She laughed ruefully. "Mike you fool. You told me you were going to return to the United States and take- what did you call it?-Holy Orders."
He wouldn't give up. "Then you could come to America," he said.
She shook her head. "Mike, I'm a production secretary in films. My job is in the Soviet Complex. I couldn't get work in your country."
"I could support you," he said stubbornly.
"On the pay of a student minister and then a beginning minister?"
Damn it. He had burnt his bridges behind him, telling her he was to take Holy Orders. He couldn't reveal the truth of the situation to her now. No, not even to Catherina.