concentrated on one part of her body, feeling him try to enter her, hard and pulsing,
forcing, an instant of sharp, unexpected pain, then sliding in, moving faster and faster, an
alien body in her body, plunging deep inside her, moving with a rhythm that grew more
and more frantic, and he said, “Are you ready?” She was not sure what she was supposed
to be ready for, but she said, “Yes,” and suddenly he cried, “Oh, Cathy!” and made one
last sporadic thrust and lay still on top of her.
And it was all over, and he was saying, “Was it wonderful for you?” and she said,
“Yes, it was wonderful,” and he said, “It gets better as it goes along,” and she was filled
with joy that she was able to bring him this happiness, and she tried not to worry about
what a disappointment it had been. Perhaps it was like olives. You had to acquire a taste
for it. She lay in his arms, letting the sound of his voice wash over her, comforting her, and
she thought This is what is important, being together as two human beings, loving and
sharing each other. She had read too many lurid novels, heard too many promising love
songs. She had been expecting too much. Or perhaps—and if this were true, she must face
it—she was frigid. As though reading her thoughts, Fraser pulled her closer and said,
“Don’t worry if you’re disappointed, darling. The first time is always traumatic.”
When Catherine did not answer, Fraser raised himself up on an elbow and looked at
her, concerned, and said, “How do you feel?”
“Fine,” she said quickly. She smiled. “You’re the best lover I ever had.”
She kissed him and held him close, feeling warm and safe until finally the hard knot
inside her began to dissolve, and a feeling of relaxation filled her, and she was content.
“Would you like a brandy?” he asked.
“No, thanks.”
“I think I’ll fix myself one. It isn’t every night a man beds a virgin.”
“Did you mind that?” she asked.
He looked at her with that strange, knowing look, started to say something and
changed his mind. “No,” he said. There was a note in his voice that she did not
understand.
“Was I—?” she swallowed. “You know—all right?”
“You were lovely,” he said.
“Truth?”
“Truth.”
“Do you know why I almost didn’t go to bed with you?” she asked.
“Why?”
“I was afraid that you wouldn’t want to see me again.”
He laughed aloud. “That’s an old wives’ tale fostered by nervous mothers who want
to keep their daughters pure. Sex doesn’t drive people apart, Catherine. It brings them