“Well, that’s what I am, and don’t forget it. You’re just a little drunk, mister, and you’re lonesome and feeling sloppy. If you want to get laid, okay—but if you’re going to carry on like this, let’s forget the whole thing. You can have your money back.”

The big man searched her eyes for a long time, then went to the bed and sat down. “I apologize,” he said. “Like you say, I was feeling sloppy.”

“So what do you want to do?”

“I—” He looked over at her. “I want to be close to you.”

“You want to get laid? I do a good job. Ask anybody.”

He did not answer.

“You want to watch me undress? Sometimes they do.”

He sat still; then, slowly, he turned, and the expression on his face was new. Vy winked at him and took off her clothes, slowly. Her body was good, the breasts firm and erect, the hips large. “You like it?” she said, keeping the professional tone in her voice.

Sam Griffin said nothing. He only stared. But not, she knew, at her body alone. He was staring at her.

“Strip down, honey,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because it’s the rule. Some customers have guns in their pockets. You get some queer ones.”

“I don’t have a gun.”

“I know. But strip down anyway. You’ll be more comfortable. You want me to help?”

She began unfastening his shirt. His hands did not move toward her body. “Why are you acting this way?” he asked suddenly. “This isn’t you.”

“It’s me, all right,” she said. “Come on, you want to feel the titty? Come on.” She placed his hand around her breast and felt the nipple swell against his palm. “You like that?” She started to pull at his trousers when Sam put his arms around her, tightly, and held her.

“Don’t do that, mister. Come on. I want to get screwed. I want—”

“Shut up!” He pulled away and shook her and said, “Shut up! That isn’t you talking. Didn’t I tell you, I know people. I know you. You’re afraid of being yourself. I don’t know why yet, but you are. Well, listen to me—I’m going to find out, I swear by God.”

Vy tried, then, but she was tired of fighting now and the strength of Sam Griffin overwhelmed her. The tears came and she did not try to halt them. They trailed down her face like acid, the burning sorrow and loneliness of all the years of her life.

She put her head against Sam Griffin’s chest and wished that she could die there.

After a long time, he said to her, “I’m going to see you tomorrow, Miss Vy. And the day after that. I’m going to keep on seeing you, and we’re going to get to know each other.”