“You should see your eyes. You’ve been through this before, probably right here on this couch.”

“Don’t talk like that,” he said.

“How many girls have you slept with?”

“I haven’t asked about what you’ve done,” he said.

“You don’t have any trouble,” she said. If she had meant that there had been mischief in his eyes, she could not realize what her own were like. She picked at the button on his shirt. “You’re so damned gentle.”

“And you think that gives me away?”

“There are times when you’re not. That’s what gives you away. You know what to be—and when.”

“Okay.”

“How do I rate?”

“How do you think I’m going to answer that now?”

She looked at the shirt button. “Do you have hair on your chest?”

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.”