Rapture

"No, you don't dress like a cop," she conceded, becoming friendly again. "But I like to ask."

"I understand."

"Want some company?"

"Not really."

"Just a drink, then. Hm? Why not? It's pretty quiet now," she added, as if to explain.

Jeff looked around and discovered that the crowd had all but vanished. A group on its way to a party, perhaps, he thought. Or, more likely, good little businessmen off to bed so that they would be fresh for their business breakfasts. They reminded Jeff of himself and the way he'd lived and worked for so many years-with the single-mindedness of a mole, pushing ahead stupidly and seeing nothing. Maybe now, this special night, was the time to admit to himself that he didn't like it, that he was tired of it all, and that there would have to be some serious changes made. A new beginning.

"I'll have another beer," he said to the woman. "What would you like?"

"White wine spritzer, thanks," she replied at once, smiling. She shifted slightly on her seat so that Jeff would be treated to an extra measure of thigh, should he care to look that way.

The bartender brought the drinks, added the charge to Jeffs bill, and then wandered away, no longer interested.

"I'm Lorna," the woman said, raising her glass.

"I'm Sean," Jeff said, raising his.

"Sean-that's nice. I like that."

"Were you ever busted?"

The woman gave a short laugh, but she wasn't surprised. She had Jeff sized up as just another bored, jaded businessman. If they weren't nervous as hell, they drove you up the wall with lousy jokes you had to laugh at convincingly. She hadn't met one yet who was any good at small talk.

"Once," she replied. "Not here. It was just a case of beginner's bad luck."

"What was it like?"

"A drag. A nuisance, that's all. Why?"

"Oh, I was just thinking," Jeff said. "Suppose a woman knocked on a hotel-room door and went in, and the guy turned out to be a cop. He'd be in a pretty good position, wouldn't he? I mean, with the girl."

Loma smiled. Another one who thinks he's clever. If they only knew how alike all these silly routines really are. But their imaginations are firmly stuck back in adolescence.

"He could be," she admitted. She didn't tell him that any girl who worked that way deserved whatever happened to her, because that wasn't what this man wanted to hear. No, Sean was interested in the game. So Lorna said, "Yeah, it could be an interesting situation ... exciting."

Jeff looked frankly at her, his eyes surveying her body. He sipped the beer. Soon he reached into his pants pocket and took out his room key. He held it in the palm of his hand, below the bar, displaying the piece of sturdy plastic that identified the hotel and his room number. Then he finished the rest of his beer and stood up to pay the bar tab.

"Guess I'll go watch some TV," he said. "Be seeing you, Lorna."

"Sure. Thanks for the drink, Sean."

"Anytime."

Upstairs in his room, Jeff switched on the television set but turned the volume all the way down. He left the room lights off. The place was cast in a gray-green light, pale and ghostly, that flickered and changed. He stripped to his underwear and took five bills from his wallet and set them on the corner of the bed nearest the door. After locking the wallet in his suitcase, he sat leaning against the pillows, staring at the silent television.

She tapped lightly on the door a few minutes later. Jeff let her in. She stayed by him while he locked the door, and when he turned, she pressed herself expertly against his body, her fingers dancing on his arms.

"I'm alone, honey," she whispered like a little girl. "Can I be with you for a while?"

They swayed together briefly, and Jeff ran his hands down her back. He led her into the room and sat on the bed as she stood and looked around. She noticed the money at once. Jeff nodded, and she put the cash in her pocketbook, which she then set on a side table.

"Spooky," she said in a hushed voice. "It's so spooky in here." But she smiled to show she liked it.

"Take off your shoes," Jeff said. "Are your legs bare?"

Lorna removed her open-toed high heels. The wrap dress, cinched around her waist, parted easily as she took off her tights and tossed them onto her pocket book. Then she fumbled with the front of the dress, as if to rearrange it, carefully flashing more of her legs. She contrived to open it more above, too, revealing cleavage and a sheer bra.

Jeff held one hand out, low, almost at knee level. She stepped forward so that her leg filled his grip. He touched her for a few seconds, then let go and stood up.

"Sorry," he said. "I'm a cop."

"Oh, no."

"I'm going to have to arrest you."

"I knew it. Oh, please."

"Hands up, against the wall, spread your legs."

She did as he said.

"Oh, please," she whimpered effectively. "I'll do whatever you want ... anything."

"Sorry