e?

She moved into his arms and raised her lips. His arms went around her,
but there was no pressure or affection in them. Their lips were an inch
apart. Her urge was to give full rein to the heady happiness and
excitement within her--to show her love in a kiss.

But she held off and, after a few moments, he drew, back, raised one
hand and passed it through her hair. Not with affection, she thought,
but rather with curiosity; almost as though he were preoccupied with its
composition. He rolled a strand of hair between thumb and finger,
testing it.

"It needs cutting," Rhoda said.

"Do you cut it?"

She laughed nervously. "You don't know much about women, do you."

"I know nothing about woman."

Trying to inject a gay note into her voice, she said, "We eat, we sleep,
we--we're very functional, really."

He rubbed a finger down her cheek. He pressed the flesh on her neck and
watched the muscle spring back as he withdrew his finger.

"Do that to me," he said.

Mystified, Rhoda pressed her finger against his neck until she could
feel a pulse in his throat. She withdrew the finger. "Like that?"

"Did it leave a mark?"

"No. Is there something wrong? Do you have a sore throat?"

"My throat is not sore."

Rhoda's frustration was a pitiful thing. How could she get to him? How
could she break through his shyness?

"I think you're afraid of me," she said lightly.

He did not answer. He took a backward step and regarded her for a moment
with a frown. Then he began to unbutton her blouse.

Rhoda wanted to object. An instinctive protest caused her to draw back.
His only reaction to this was to step forward and continue to unbutton
her blouse. She wanted to resist but the fear of driving him away held
her mute; that and something in his eyes that told of excitement, an
unformed phantom of delight that had never materialized but still held
sway over her through promise.

He stripped the blouse off. She wore no brassiere underneath, and he
regarded her breasts somberly. He pressed a nipple with the tip of one
finger and watched it spring back into place.

"Please. I--"

He ignored her. He pressed the nipple again and then found the zipper on
the side of her slacks. He pulled it down and pushed the slacks down
over her hips. She lifted each foot obediently.

He was on his knees now, running his fingers gently down her thighs.
Rhoda trembled at the touch. Then she realized it was not love-making on
his part--n