Английский язык с Крестным Отцом

brandy warming his throat, he felt a desire to sing, not music, but to phrase with the

records, yet it was something impossible to do in front of a stranger. He put his free

hand in Sharon's lap, sipping his drink from his other hand. Without any slyness but with

the sensualness of a child seeking warmth, his hand in her lap pulled up the silk of her

dress to show milky white thigh above the sheer netted gold of her stockings and as

always, despite all the women, all the years, all the familiarity, Johnny felt the fluid sticky

warmness flooding through his body at that sight. The miracle still happened, and what

would he do when that failed him as his voice had?

He was ready now. He put his drink down on the long inlaid (мозаичный,

инкрустированный) cocktail table and turned his body toward her. He was very sure,

very deliberate, and yet tender. There was nothing sly or lecherously lascivious

(похотливый, сладострастный [l’sivijs]) in his caresses. He kissed her on the lips

while his hands rose to her breasts. His hand fell to her warm thighs, the skin so silky to

his touch. Her returning kiss was warm but not passionate and he preferred it that way

right now. He hated girls who turned on all of a sudden as if their bodies were motors

galvanized into erotic pumpings by the touching of a hairy switch.

Then he did something he always did, something that had never yet failed to arouse

him. Delicately and as lightly as it was possible to do so and still feel something, he

brushed the tip of his middle finger deep down between her thighs. Some girls never

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even felt that initial move toward lovemaking. Some were distracted by it, not sure it was

a physical touch because at the same time he always kissed them deeply on the mouth.

Still others seemed to suck in his finger or gobble it up (жадно есть, заглатывать) with

a pelvic (тазовый) thrust. And of course before he became famous, some girls had

slapped his face. It was his whole technique and usually it served him well enough.

Sharon's reaction was unusual. She accepted it all, the touch, the kiss, then shifted

her mouth off his, shifted her body ever so slightly back along the couch and picked up

her drink. It was a cool but definite refusal. It happened sometimes. Rarely; but it

happened. Johnny picked up his drink and lit a cigarette.

She was saying something very sweetly, very lightly. "It's not that I don't like you,

Johnny, you're much nicer than I thought you'd be. And it's not because I'm not that kind

of a girl. It's just that I have to be turned on to do it with a guy, you know what I mean?"

Johnny Fontane smiled at her. He still liked her. "And I don't turn you on?"

She was a little embarrassed. "Well, you know, when you were so great singing and

all, I was still a little kid. I sort of just missed you, I was the next generation. Honest, it's

not that I'm goody-goody (паинька). If you were a movie star I grew up on, I'd have my

panties off in a second."

He didn't like her quite so much now. She was sweet, she was witty, she was

intelligent. She hadn't fallen all over herself to screw for him or try to hustle (толкать,

пихать; добиваться чего-либо напористыми, не всегда честными действиями) him

because his connections would help her in show biz. She was really a straight kid. But

there was something else he recognized. It had happened a few times before. The girl

who went on a date with her mind all made up not to go to bed with him, no matter how

much she liked him, just so that she could tell her friends, and even more, herself, that

she had turned down a chance to screw for the great Johnny Fontane. It was something

he understood now that he was older and he wasn't angry. He just didn't like her quite

that much and he had really liked her a lot.

And now that he didn't like her quite so much, he relaxed more. He sipped his drink

and watched the Pacific Ocean. She said, "I hope you're not sore, Johnny. I guess I'm

being square, I guess in Hollywood a girl's supposed to put out just as casually as

kissing a beau (щеголь; здесь: кавалер [bu]) good night. I just haven't been around

long enough."

Johnny smiled at her and patted her cheek. His hand fell down to pull her skirt

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discreetly over her rounded silken knees. "I'm not sore," he said. "It's nice having an old-

fashioned date." Not telling what he felt: the relief at not having to prove himself a great

lover, not having to live up (быть достойным /чего-либо/, тянуться) to his screened,

godlike image. Not having to listen to the girl trying to react as if he really had lived up to

that image, making more out of a very simple, routine piece of ass than it really was.

They had another drink, shared a few more cool kisses and then she decided to go.

Johnny said politely, "Can I call you for dinner some night?"

She played it frank and honest to the end. "I know you don't want to waste your time

and then get disappointed," she said. "Thanks for a wonderful evening. Someday I'll tell