in a cold shower. Well, she wasn’t going to let that happen. Not tonight. “What kind of
feeling?”
“I don’t know.” Ron’s voice was perplexed. “One minute you’re kind of sexy and,
you know, with it, and the next minute your mind is way off somewhere and you’re as
frigid as ice. It’s like you’re two people. Which one is the real Catherine Alexander?”
Frigid as ice, she automatically said to herself. Aloud she said, “I’ll show you.” She
put her arms around him and kissed him on the lips and she could smell egg foo young.
He kissed her harder and pulled her close to him. He ran his hands over her breasts,
caressing them, pushing his tongue into her mouth. Catherine felt a hot moisture deep
down inside her and she could feel her pants dampen. Here I go, she thought. It’s really
going to happen! It’s really going to happen! She clung to him harder, filled with a
growing, almost unbearable excitement.
“Let’s get undressed,” Ron said hoarsely. He stepped back from her and started to
take off his jacket.
“No,” she said. “Let me.” There was a new confidence in her voice. If this was the
night of nights, she was going to do it right. She was going to remember everything she
had ever read or heard. Ron wasn’t going back to school to snicker to the girls about how
he had made love to a dumb little virgin. Catherine might not have Jean-Anne’s bust
measurement, but she had a brain ten times as useful, and she was going to put it to work
to make Ron so happy in bed he wouldn’t be able to stand it. She took off his jacket and
laid it on the bed, then reached for his tie.
“Hold it,” Ron said. “I want to see you undress.”
Catherine stared at him, swallowed, slowly reached for her zipper and got out of her
dress. She was standing in her bra, slip, pants, shoes and stockings.
“Go on.”
She hesitated a moment, then reached down and stepped out of her slip. Lions, 2—
Christians, 0, she thought.
“Hey, great! Keep going.”
Catherine slowly sat down on the bed and carefully removed her shoes and stockings,
trying to make it look as sexy as she could. Suddenly she felt Ron behind her, undoing her
bra. She let it fall to the bed. He lifted Catherine to her feet and started sliding her pants
down. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, wishing that she were in another place
with another man, a human being who loved her, whom she loved, who would father
splendid children to bear his name, who would fight for her and kill for her and for whom
she would be an adoring helpmate. A whore in his bed, a great cook in his kitchen, a
charming hostess in his living room…a man who would kill a son of a bitch like Ron
Peterson for daring to bring her to this tacky, degrading room. Her pants fell to the floor.
Catherine opened her eyes.
Ron was staring at her, his face filled with admiration. “My God, Cathy, you’re