"Hey, there, boy!
Whoa! What's up?"
"Me. I was waiting for you to come home."
She backed away.
"Oh, wait a minute, Charlie boy.
We've been through all this before. You know it doesn't do any good.
I mean, you know I think a lot of you, and I'd drag you into bed in a minute if I thought there was a chance.
But I don't want to get all worked up for nothing.
It's not fair, Charlie."
"It'll be different tonight.
I swear it." Before she could protest, I had her in my arms, kissing her, caressing her, overwhelming her with all the built-up excitement that was ready to tear me apart. I tried to unhook her brassiere, but I pulled too hard and the hook tore out. "For God's sake, Charlie, my bra—" "Don't worry about your bra…" I choked, helping her to take it off. "I'll buy you a new one. I'm going to make up for the other times. I'm going to make love to you all night long." She pulled away from me.
"Charlie, I've never heard you talk like that.
And stop looking at me as if you want to swallow me whole."
She swept up a blouse from one of the chairs, and held it in front of her.
"Now you're making me feel undressed."
"I want to make love to you.
Tonight I can do it. I know it… I feel it. Don't turn me away, Fay." "Here," she whispered, "have another drink."
I took one and poured another for her, and while she drank it, I covered her shoulder and neck with kisses.
She began to breathe heavily as my excitement communicated itself to her.
"God, Charlie, if you get me started and disappoint me again I don't know what I'll do.
I'm human too, you know."
I pulled her down beside me on the couch, on top of the pile of her clothing and underthings.
"Not here on the couch, Charlie," she said, struggling to her feet.
"Let's go to bed."
"Here," I insisted, pulling the blouse away from her.
She looked down at me, set her glass on the floor, and stepped out of her underwear. She stood there in front of me, nude.
"I'll turn out the lights," she whispered.
"No," I said, pulling her down onto the couch again. "I want to look at you."
She kissed me deeply and held me tightly in her arms.
"Just don't disappoint me this time, Charlie.
You'd better not."
Her body moved slowly, reaching for me, and I knew that this time nothing would interfere.
I knew what to do and how to do it. She gasped and sighed and called my name.
For one moment I had the cold feeling he was watching. Over the arm of the couch, I caught a glimpse of his face staring back at me through the dark beyond the window—where just a few minutes earlier I had been crouching.
A switch in perception, and I was out on the fire escape again, watching a man and a woman inside, making love on the couch.
Then, with a violent effort of the will, I was back on the couch with her, aware of her body and my own urgency and potency, and I saw the face against the window, hungrily watching.
And I thought to myself, go ahead, you poor bastard—watch.
I don't give a damn any more.
And his eyes went wide as he watched.
June 29
Before I go back to the lab I'm going to finish the projects I've started since I left the convention.
I phoned Landsdoff at the New Institute for Advanced Study, about the possibility of utilizing the pair-production nuclear photoeffect for exploratory work in biophysics.
At first he thought I was a crackpot, but after I pointed out the flaws in his article in the New Institute Journal he kept me on the phone for nearly an hour.
He wants me to come to the Institute to discuss my ideas with his group.
I might take him up on it after I've finished my work at the lab—if there is time.
That's the problem, of course.
I don't know how much time I have.
A month?
A year?
The rest of my life?