Perfidia | Page 8

buried her face in my chest. I could smell the sweet scent of her hair.
She said, "I've got to go back to my miserable, dull life tomorrow and I don't want this to be over yet. Please? Could we just go to dinner and pretend a little? Maybe go dancing? We don't have to talk about politics or Glenn Miller or anything important. We could be two different people entirely, just for tonight. Couldn't we?"
Without any conscious decision, my arms went around her. "Yes. Sure. Of course we can."
She looked up at me with eager gray eyes and big smile and kissed me quickly, so sweetly and unexpectedly that it vaporized whatever will I might have had left.
*
She took me to the pet market at the entrance to the Cit?? Metro stop, where vendors were selling everything from hamsters and cockatiels to chinchillas and prairie dogs. True to the spirit of our bargain, I ignored any qualms I might have had about the cages and focused on her delight. From there, we crossed the Seine to the giant toy waterworks of the Pompidou Center where we watched a clown juggle fire on an enormous unicycle, then walked through the tiered gardens of Les Halles, holding hands as the sun set. We ate dinner at an Indian restaurant near my hotel, shying quickly away from topics that threatened to go sour, like our differing tastes in films, and struggling to stay with the ones that seemed harmless, like our distant pasts, or the places I'd been that she'd always wanted to go. The shared effort brought us closer, like a kind of training exercise.
When we stepped back into the street, the wind had picked up and the temperature had dropped. She nestled under my left arm for warmth and I opened my coat to bring her inside it, then turned her face up and kissed her. She tasted of cardamom and wine. Her lips were tense at first, then opened in surrender.
"Do you have someplace we can go?" she whispered.
"My hotel is just up the street."
"And do you have, you know--"
"Condoms? Yes. I didn't think I'd be using them, but--"
"But you never know."
Once in my room the mood turned awkward again. There was nothing there but the full-sized bed, two small end tables, and a half-size refrigerator. The TV hung from the ceiling and the closet was small and without doors. I went to shut the window to the airshaft and Sandy said, "It's freezing in here."
"I know," I said. "Sorry." I shed my coat and took hers. "Get your shoes off and get into bed. I'll warm you up."
The plastic mattress cover under the sheets made crinkling noises as we got in. I pulled the covers over us and held her for a minute or two, fully clothed, without saying anything. I listened to the rhythm of her breathing, both alien and comforting, and felt the muscles of her back slowly begin to relax. I buried my nose in her neck, inhaling the warmth of her skin, and then I was kissing her neck, her ear, her mouth. We slowly worked our way out of our clothes and pushed them out onto the floor, and then I had a condom on and was kissing her breasts and their small, clenched nipples, and moving down to taste between her legs. It had been so very long.
"Mmmmm," she said. "That feels wonderful, but if you're trying to make me come, I should warn you it's not going to happen."
"No?"
"Not with a man. Not even with a man present, if that was going to be your next question. I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but you should carry on and enjoy yourself."
"What's in it for you?"
"Don't fret, it feels lovely. Oh, don't let's talk. Just make love to me, will you?"
I had been seesawing between desire and irritation all night, but at that point I suspended all judgment and let my body have its way. As I entered her she said, "Yes. Oh, yes."
*
Later, I asked her about the scar.
When she finally answered, it was in a firm, affectless voice. "I was coming home late from the clubs about four years ago and a man in a balaclava--what is it you call them?"
"Ski mask."
"Yes, one of those. He had a broken bottle and he dragged me into a car park. I was so startled at first I didn't think to scream until it was too late and he had the glass at my throat and was tearing my tights off. He never said a word, and when he was done he twisted the glass into my cheek, like he was disgusted with me."
"Christ. I'm so sorry."
"I had a mobile, and I called the police even as he was walking away. I was lucky--they caught him,