Pleasure Thieves

"What is this?" Carol's blush had turned to a flush of anger. "How dare you speak in code to each other! I think it's disgusting." She turned to leave the room. "If you'll just give me the stuff Phillip, I'll be over tomorrow evening after I have seen Boris."

Harry was standing at the doorway, and Phillip realized intensely and jealously that he didn't want them to leave together. "We're not going to have another scene, are we Carol? I mean, you're saying thirty times you must leave, and me saying thirty-one times you must stay, and then we do what we started out to do."

"Phillip," she was really hurt, "don't make everything sound so cheap and predictable."

"It's not cheap because it's predictable, my young beauty. I can tell you exactly what's going to happen between the three of us. It will happen, you know. I don't know who's making it happen, but it will happen. And none of us will be any cheaper for it, or any the wiser.

Just a little older and a little more tired."

"You make everything sound dreadful." She was near tears. It was the second time in his life with Carol that Phillip had seen her near tears. "You kill everything. You ruin everything. I wish there was something that could happen to me that you wouldn't know about long before I do. I wish I could have a little more life of my own and not feel…"

"But, my dear," Phillip interjected. "You'd feel so much more if you had a life of your own! That's what I'm protecting you from."

Suddenly, surprisingly, Harry spoke. "It would be nicer if you used your gun, Phillip. So much cleaner and quicker."

"I think you should leave, Harry," Carol said. Her voice was still and distant. "Have your dinner and then come back. I'll be gone by then and you and Phillip can finish your conversation."

"There are a few things," Phillip said quickly, "that we must talk about."

"Yes," Harry said quickly, "of course. Don't be so outraged." It was shocking to hear his voice, suddenly filled with sympathy and knowledge, "Phillip is no prophet. We know what will happen too. It's just that Phillip's not afraid to say it. He's afraid of a lot of things, but he's not afraid to say what we're thinking. Maybe his paintings give him that courage. I'll be back, Phillip," and he left with the crown jewels.

"You seem to have outlined my entire evening," Phillip's words were bitter.

"Phillip, you say that after you've outlined my entire life."

"An evening," he explained, "is infinitely more important than a life.

It lasts much longer."

Carol laughed. "Mix me a drink, sweetheart. We'll get very dull if we don't have a drink."

"I've never heard you complain of impending boredom before."

"Do you think I'm rebelling, Phillip? Do you think I'm finding new interests in life?"

"I can't imagine why you would." He cupped her pale face and kissed her on the mouth. "I think it's all been very interesting."

She rubbed casually, cat-like against his body. "You're the most interesting man in the world."

"Is that enough for you, Carol?"

"It's always been too much for me, my dear. I'm just beginning to catch up."

"How dreadful," he murmured. "I thought I was miles ahead of you." He had removed her coat and hat and pulled off the gloves that encased her hands, finger by finger. She wore a brown and orange tweed dress. It was beltless and tight on her hips; below, it flared out into a many-gored skirt. There were thirty-two buttons from the neck to the hem. He began methodically and silently to unbutton them. She stood motionless as the mannequin in her office. The slip with the stiff crinoline skirt zippered smartly down the back. He lowered the straps over her stiff arms, and pushed her gently to step over the heap on the floor.

Her brassiere snapped shut in the front, between her small, high, full breasts. His fingers played with the hook. Then he pulled the cloth back, unpeeling her breasts like exotic fruit. He held his four fingers tightly below her armpits and massaged the nipples of her breasts with his thumbs. They became rigid under his caress and Carol was standing, eyes closed, mesmerized, naked except for the thin nylon panties and the garters and stockings they supported. He put his mouth against her neck and ears and the small cavity just above the swell of her breasts.

"Come darling," he guided, "let's get into bed."

"I feel like a bride, Phillip. You make me feel like a bride."

She opened her eyes and saw him standing fully dressed before her.

His dressing gown reached to his knees, and she could see the dark striped pants under it. An ascot covered his throat, and she felt her nudity with a tremor.

"Take off your clothes, Phillip," she begged.

He stood silently studying her. "We usually do it my way, Carol."

"Take off your clothes," she repeated, and at last she found her tears.

She clawed at his scarf until she had it loose, and pulled it off in one long motion. When she had it loose in her hand, she billowed it open and shielded her naked body with the large square.

"Take off your clothes," she screamed again.