“They can’t be,” she said, glancing over. Suddenly her anger at his inattention to her paled against what was happening on the screen. A commercial came on for Australian beer, “the golden throat charmer.” Only now did David see that Melissa was dressing. “Hey, Mel, what’re you doing?”
“What’s it look like?”
“Hey, no, honey. Listen, I just wanted to — my brother’s out there with the Seventh Fleet.”
“Men and war,” she said. “You love it.”
“No I don’t.”
“Yes you do. That’s why you’re in the reserves.”
“Come on, Mel. I’m sorry.” His hands extended, palms up. “Hey, you’re more important to me than any damn war.”
“Hmm—”
He hit the “off” button and went down on his knees.
“You idiot,” she said.
“At your service, ma’am!”
“Well—”
He clapped his hands together, then opened them wide. “Without you I die.”
“Without me you’d watch TV. Lounge lizard!”
He rose and reached over the bed, taking her hand. “Love you, babe.”
“I’ve got geography at one-thirty. Have to prepare for it. Last summer school class.”
“What’s to prepare?”
“Answers. Spot quiz.”
“Ask me. Go on.”
“Hindu Kush?”
“What about it?” He pulled the sheets up about them.
“Where is it?”
“Asia.”
She punched him softly on the arm. “Big help. Where in Asia?”
He slid his hand over her buttocks, reveling in their firmness, and when it happened, he knew they’d be tighter than this, tight as a basketball.
“Where in Asia?” She pushed his hand away.
“In the mountains. India.” He was nibbling the lobe of her ear.
“I thought you poli sci majors had all the answers,” she said.
“We do. I’m giving you one now.” He slid his left hand between her thighs, pressing into her. “Means killer,” he said. “Hindu killer.”
“Are you serious?”
“Dead serious.”
“Go on.”
“All the way?” he asked.
“No—”
“Why not?”
“I promised Daddy.”
“I could have a talk with him. Make it official.”
“Not till we finish school. Remember — it was your idea. Till then, frottage. Don’t you like it?”
“Sure.” He slid his right hand behind her to unclip the bra. “But I’d like to have it all.”
“When we finish schoo—”
“Damn thing’s caught,” he said.
She arched her back, unclipped it for him, and dropped the bra to the floor.
“Oh God,” he said, seeing her breasts, closing his eyes and opening them again — as if it had all been illusion. She laughed and began stroking his hair, lowering her body slowly on his. When he came up for air, gently rolling her over to her side of the bed, his face was flushed with excitement. They kissed hard and longingly and he rolled on his back so she could sit astride him, her breasts firm yet pendulous above him. She leaned forward, gently rocking side to side, her long ash-blond hair falling down like warm rain.
“Mogul emperor—” he said, “in 1672.”
She giggled and sat up, blocking his hands with hers, their fingers intertwined, she fending him off. “What about 1672?” She kissed his hand.
“Mogul emperor — sent in forty thousand troops — through the Khyber Pass. Only five came back. That’s why they call it Hindu Kush.”
“That’s awful,” she said, sitting up, pushing her hair back.
“Yeah.”
“See? I told you. Men love war.”
“I’m just trying to help—” His mouth went dry just looking at her. “Any more questions?” he asked raspily. Her nipples were engorged and he felt hard as concrete between her legs. A frown swept over her face and she sat upright, flicking her hair back, a bobby pin in her mouth. “You don’t think there’ll be a war, do you?”
“What — oh, in Korea. There’s already a war.”
“No, I mean a world war?”
“No chance. Nuclear weapons’ll stop it.”
“Nuclear weapons could start it.”
“No, before that they would have to — hey, is this a seminar or what?” He pulled her down to him, running his fingernails gently over her back, dragging them lightly back up to her shoulders and down along her outstretched arms, her murmurs of pleasure making him happy. “Love you, babe,” he said.
“You, too,” she said, and began doing the same for him. He slipped off his watch, hearing it drop softly to the floor. Now she lay down full length on him, moaning softly as he began to move, arching his back, lifting her, all the pressure in her groin. She kissed him wetly, hard, tongue thrusting hard for his. “Don’t — don’t leave me, Davy,” she called softly, gently, lonely as a child in the night.
“I won’t,” he said.
Now he could feel her buttocks, the hard, rounded silkiness rousing him so he doubted he could hold out much longer. She stopped, perfectly still, sensing his razor-edge excitement as he calmed down. Her smell was overwhelming him, and now for a moment, a man possessed beyond his years, his vision blurred, she came back into focus, and he could feel the blood pulsing through him. She raised herself above him using her elbows and began moving rhythmically again side to side, his mouth like a fish gasping for water. She laughed and it relaxed him, his shoulders slumping back, falling on the pillow. She had to be careful — sometimes the slightest giggle could make him angry, as if he thought she was laughing at him instead of with him — for him.
“You’re going—” he stopped to get his breath “—to be late for class.”
“Yes,” she smiled.
“Sweetie — let’s get married now. Today. This afternoon.”
She placed her forefinger gently on the tip of his nose. “No. After we graduate.”
“That’ll be — hell, that’ll be the end of next term. Christmas. I can’t wait that long. I’ll go nuts.”
“No. “
“You’re a hard woman, Melissa Lange.”
“I’m old-fashioned.”
“This isn’t old-fashioned.”
“How do you know? Maybe your parents and mine did it.”
“My dad?” he said disbelievingly. “You’re joking. Mom would never have let him.”
“Oh — they didn’t have sex in the navy?”
“Shore leave,” he said.
“Oh Lord!”
“What?”
“I promised Rick I’d loan him my notes.”
“Stacy? Let him make his own.”
“He was sick last week with the flu.”
“He’ll be all right.”
“What time is it?” she said. She reached over and picked up the watch. “Oh Lord! He’ll be waiting for me at the Student Union Building.”
“Let him wait.”
“I promised, Davy,” but she could see he was getting mad. “You know how you are about promises, Davy.”
“For Stacy?”
“Oh, come on.” She shook his shoulders. “You’d go.”
“No I wouldn’t.”
“You know you would.” She hopped off the bed. “I’ll make it up to you, sweetie. Promise.”
“Why don’t you make it up with Stacy?”
“Davy.”
He slumped back in the bed, throttled a pillow, relaxed his grip, then threw it across the room.
“Listen,” she said, getting dressed as quickly as she could. “Who was the one watching the TV?”
“That was only a minute. You were watching it, too.”
“I certainly was not.”
“The hell you weren’t! You were asking me if they were people.”