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She
lay
still
—
as
the
motionless
,
then
the
quivering
object
of
an
act
which
he
did
simply
,
unhesitatingly
,
as
of
right
,
the
right
of
the
unendurable
pleasure
it
gave
them
.
He
named
what
it
meant
to
both
of
them
in
the
first
words
he
spoke
afterwards
.
He
said
,
"
We
had
to
learn
it
from
each
other
.
"
She
looked
at
his
long
figure
stretched
on
the
grass
beside
her
,
he
wore
black
slacks
and
a
black
shirt
,
her
eyes
stopped
on
the
belt
pulled
tight
across
his
slender
waistline
,
and
she
felt
the
stab
of
an
emotion
that
was
like
a
gasp
of
pride
,
pride
in
her
ownership
of
his
body
.
She
lay
on
her
back
,
looking
up
at
the
sky
,
feeling
no
desire
to
move
or
think
or
know
that
there
was
any
time
beyond
this
moment
.
When
she
came
home
,
when
she
lay
in
bed
,
naked
because
her
body
had
become
an
unfamiliar
possession
,
too
precious
for
the
touch
of
a
nightgown
,
because
it
gave
her
pleasure
to
feel
naked
and
to
feel
as
if
the
white
sheets
of
her
bed
were
touched
by
Francisco
’
s
body
—
when
she
thought
that
she
would
not
sleep
,
because
she
did
not
want
to
rest
and
lose
the
most
wonderful
exhaustion
she
had
ever
known
—
her
last
thought
was
of
the
times
when
she
had
wanted
to
express
,
but
found
no
way
to
do
it
,
an
instant
’
s
knowledge
of
a
feeling
greater
than
happiness
,
the
feeling
of
one
’
s
blessing
upon
the
whole
of
the
earth
,
the
feeling
of
being
in
love
with
the
fact
that
one
exists
and
in
this
kind
of
world
;
she
thought
that
the
act
she
had
learned
was
the
way
one
expressed
it
.
If
this
was
a
thought
of
the
gravest
importance
,
she
did
not
know
it
;
nothing
could
be
grave
in
a
universe
from
which
the
concept
of
pain
had
been
wiped
out
;
she
was
not
there
to
weigh
her
conclusion
;
she
was
asleep
,
a
faint
smile
on
her
face
,
in
a
silent
,
luminous
room
filled
with
the
light
of
morning
.
That
summer
,
she
met
him
in
the
woods
,
in
hidden
corners
by
the
river
,
on
the
floor
of
an
abandoned
shack
,
in
the
cellar
of
the
house
.
These
were
the
only
times
when
she
learned
to
feel
a
sense
of
beauty
—
by
looking
up
at
old
wooden
rafters
or
at
the
steel
plate
of
an
air
-
conditioning
machine
that
whirred
tensely
,
rhythmically
above
their
heads
.
She
wore
slacks
or
cotton
summer
dresses
,
yet
she
was
never
so
feminine
as
when
she
stood
beside
him
,
sagging
in
his
arms
,
abandoning
herself
to
anything
he
wished
,
in
open
acknowledgment
of
his
power
to
reduce
her
to
helplessness
by
the
pleasure
he
had
the
power
to
give
her
.
He
taught
her
every
manner
of
sensuality
he
could
invent
.
"
Isn
’
t
it
wonderful
that
our
bodies
can
give
us
so
much
pleasure
?
"
he
said
to
her
once
,
quite
simply
.
They
were
happy
and
radiantly
innocent
.
They
were
both
incapable
of
the
conception
that
joy
is
sin
.
They
kept
their
secret
from
the
knowledge
of
others
,
not
as
a
shameful
guilt
,
but
as
a
thing
that
was
immaculately
theirs
,
beyond
anyone
’
s
right
of
debate
or
appraisal
.
She
knew
the
general
doctrine
on
sex
,
held
by
people
in
one
form
or
another
,
the
doctrine
that
sex
was
an
ugly
weakness
of
man
’
s
lower
nature
,
to
be
condoned
regretfully
.
She
experienced
an
emotion
of
chastity
that
made
her
shrink
,
not
from
the
desires
of
her
body
,
but
from
any
contact
with
the
minds
who
held
this
doctrine
.
That
winter
,
Francisco
came
to
see
her
in
New
York
,
at
unpredictable
intervals
.
He
would
fly
down
from
Cleveland
,
without
warning
,
twice
a
week
,
or
he
would
vanish
for
months
.
She
would
sit
on
the
floor
of
her
room
,
surrounded
by
charts
and
blueprints
,
she
would
hear
a
knock
at
her
door
and
snap
,
"
I
’
m
busy
!
"
then
hear
a
mocking
voice
ask
,
"
Are
you
?
"
and
leap
to
her
feet
to
throw
the
door
open
,
to
find
him
standing
there
.
They
would
go
to
an
apartment
he
had
rented
in
the
city
,
a
small
apartment
in
a
quiet
neighborhood
.
"
Francisco
,
"
she
asked
him
once
,
in
sudden
astonishment
,
"
I
’
m
your
mistress
,
am
I
not
?
"
He
laughed
.
"
That
’
s
what
you
are
.
"
She
felt
the
pride
a
woman
is
supposed
to
experience
at
being
granted
the
title
of
wife
.
In
the
many
months
of
his
absence
,
she
never
wondered
whether
he
was
true
to
her
or
not
;
she
knew
he
was
.
She
knew
,
even
though
she
was
too
young
to
know
the
reason
,
that
indiscriminate
desire
and
unselective
indulgence
were
possible
only
to
those
who
regarded
sex
and
themselves
as
evil
.
She
knew
little
about
Francisco
’
s
life
.
It
was
his
last
year
in
college
;
he
seldom
spoke
of
it
,
and
she
never
questioned
him
.
She
suspected
that
he
was
working
too
hard
,
because
she
saw
,
at
times
,
the
unnaturally
bright
look
of
his
face
,
the
look
of
exhilaration
that
comes
from
driving
one
’
s
energy
beyond
its
limit
.
