He nodded.

“Really? That’s wonderful.”

He put his hand on her blouse over her breast. She watched his eyes and he let the pleasure show in them and he moved his hand as he thought she wanted him to do now, not gently. She bit her lip, happy. He reached for her blouse button.

He stared at her. Her eyes changed; she was not angry. He got to his feet.

“Where are you going?”

“To lower the radio.”

She sat up straight. “I don’t want to go to bed with you, Joe.”

“You’re the one who keeps mentioning it.”

“Can you blame me?”

“Yes,” he said. “And you know it.”

“Let’s not fight!”

He didn’t answer. She rubbed her hands against her knees. Something made him stop before he sat down again and he took her wrist to bring her to him. She misunderstood, and twisted her legs onto the couch and lay back. She brought her arms up to her breasts as if that gave him room beside her; it was girlish and it made him smile. He got beside her.

She put her face against his neck. “Are we safe here?”

“Nobody will bother us.”

“I’m terribly excited, Joe. My leg is shaking.”

“I’d like to see that.”

“Go ahead.” She moved and raised one knee and waited.

With his fingers he lifted her skirt and slip. Carefully he pulled them up all the way around. She wasn’t wearing a girdle. Her legs were very slim and her stockings were pulled up high. He put his hand over her garter.

“Do you like my legs?” she asked.

“Very, very much.”

“There aren’t any freckles where you wouldn’t want them. They start above my knees and work down.”

“None on your hips,” he said.

“No.”

“Your bottom?”

She laughed. “I don’t know.”

“What about on top?”

“Birthmarks. Hold me, Joe. I love you.”

“I love you, too. You’ve known it.”

She pushed him back. “Does it hurt?”

It took him a moment to understand. “No.”

She was watching him. Now she smiled. “I’m going to help you,” she said.

He kissed her. “Do you mean it?”

“No—no. Stop it, Joe. I can’t.”

“Are you afraid of getting pregnant?”

“No, that’s not it, I—”

“You have to make up your mind about what you want to do.”

“I won’t have the burden put on me!”

She was right. If they didn’t go on, their frustration would leave an anger they couldn’t control. He knew her and he was learning himself. “Go into my room, Karen.”

She looked afraid. “I don’t want to, Joe. Please.”

He stroked her hair. “Go ahead.”

She got up slowly. She bent over to get her shoes, then changed her mind about them and stood up. Her hand reaching for the button on her skirt, she walked unhappily across the room to the other door. The dishevelment of her clothing pulled at him and made him want to tell her to stop. She had believed him and her belief had made it just this simple. His astonishment with the simplicity of it kept him still until she was in his room, and then he got up to follow her. He was afraid not to be near her.