ceremonial Chinese burial.
Ron ordered the dollar seventy-five six-course dinner, and Catherine pretended to eat it, but it might as well have been Chinese cardboard. She was beginning to get so tense she couldn’ t taste anything. Her tongue was suddenly dry and the roof of her mouth felt strangely numb. What if she had just had a stroke? If she had sex right after a stroke, it would probably kill her. Perhaps she should warn Ron. It would hurt his reputation if they found a dead girl in his bed. Or maybe it would enhance it.
“ What’ s the matter?” Ron asked.“ You look pale.”“ I feel great,” Catherine said, recklessly.“ I’ m just excited about being with you.”
Ron looked at her approvingly, his brown eyes taking in every detail of her face and moving down to her breasts and lingering there.“ I feel the same way,” he replied.
The waiter had taken the dishes away, and Ron had paid the check. He looked at her, but Catherine couldn’ t move.
“ Do you want anything else?” Ron asked.
Do I? Oh, yes! I want to be on a slow boat to China. I want to be in a cannibal’ s kettle being boiled for dinner. I want my mother!
Ron was watching her, waiting. Catherine took a deep breath.“ I— I can’ t think of anything.”
“ Good.” He drew the syllable out, long and lastingly so that it seemed to put a bed on the table between them.“ Let’ s go.” He stood up and Catherine followed. The euphoric feeling from the drinks had completely vanished and her legs began to tremble.
They were outside in the warm night air when a sudden thought hit Catherine and filled her with relief. He’ s not going to take me to bed tonight. Men never do that with a girl on the first date. He’ s going to ask me out to dinner again and next time we’ ll go to Henrici’ s and we’ ll get to know each other better. Really know each other. And we’ ll probably fall in love— madly— and he’ ll take me to meet his parents and then everything will be all right … and I won’ t feel this stupid panic.
“ Do you have any preference in motels?” Ron asked.
Catherine stared up at him, speechless. Gone were the dreams of a genteel musicale evening with his mother and father. The bastard was planning to take her to bed in a motel! Well, that was what she wanted, wasn’ t it? Wasn’ t that the reason she had written that insane note?
Ron’ s hand was on Catherine’ s shoulder now, sliding down her arm. She felt a warm sensation in her groin. She swallowed and said,“ If you’ ve seen one motel, you’ ve seen them all.”
Ron looked at her strangely. But all he said was,“ OK. Let’ s go.”
They got into his car and started driving west. Catherine’ s body had turned into a block of ice, but her mind was racing at a feverish pitch. The last time she had stayed in a