Naked Came the Stranger - By Penelope Ashe Page 0,74

there was no one for whom he sensed instant chemistry. He decided that he might as well talk to Gillian, whose pantherish quality was enhanced by black pants and a black-ribbed sleeveless sweater.

"Fancy meeting you here," he said.

"Yes, isn't it a coincidence?" said Gillian, her tongue running across the roof of her mouth as she gave him a quick catlike grin. Her eyes were sparkling, and her hair was soft and lustrous as it caressed her shoulders. She actually was quite attractive. For a girl, that is.

"You look charming," he said.

"Thanks," said Gillian. "You look very nice, too. I just love your sweater."

"I bought it in the Village," Willoughby said, and he gave her the name of the shop. They sipped at their jars, and talked clothes and decorating. Finally, Gillian mentioned Hank's absence.

"I'm not his keeper," Willoughby said.

"That's very wise," said Gillian. "It's a sensible way to look at it. It's awful when somebody tries to push you, to put you in a box."

Willoughby looked at her with new respect. "You know, you really are very sensitive."

"You have no idea," she said.

"I'm beginning to," Willoughby said, and he thought that he had never enjoyed a woman's company so much before. She was an exceptional person, he thought. They sipped some more and looked around them. The aura was one of noise and nervousness. Couples were beginning to link arms and walk off to the beach and the embrace of the night.

"They're too much, aren't they?" said Gillian.

"Yes, they're so utterly frantic."

"Don't be hard on them," she said, laughing. "They're not as sophisticated as you are. They're just simple heterosexuals."

Willoughby grinned. "I know. It's just too terrible the way they carry on. They do such awful things to each other."

"Yes," said Gillian. "You have to pity them, the poor things. I mean, it's a sickness."

Willoughby giggled. She was absolutely charming, he thought. It was really too bad she wasn't a man.

"Well, so long as they don't try to pervert me," said Willoughby. "It's okay as long as they stick to their own kind."

"They are terrible."

"Frightful," said Willoughby. "I think it's perfectly scandalous the way they carry on."

Gillian's eyes suddenly bored into his. "Do you really, Willoughby?"

"Not really," he said. "But it's not my cup of tea."

"Honestly?"

"Absolutely not."

"Yes, but don't you ever think about it? About having sex with a woman?"

"Not ever."

"Why?"

"Come now, Gillian. I told you. It's not My cup of tea."

"That's hard to believe."

"Your ego's showing, dear."

"No, I mean it. Haven't you ever done it with a woman?"

"No."

"Not even as a kid?"

"No. Not even then."

"Well then, I don't see how you can criticize it."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what they say," said Gillian, and her eyes were laughing at him. "Don't knock it until you've tried it."

Willoughby felt flustered. He tried for a joking answer.

"Oh you! If Hank were here, you wouldn't dare talk to me that way. You heterosexual, you!"

Gillian chuckled, and moved nearer. Her perfume was enchanting. "But after all, Willoughby," she said, "you are a man."

"Let's just say I'm a better man," said Willoughby.

"Tell me," she said, "don't you feel, oh I don't know – don't you feel like a disenfranchised Negro sometimes?"

"No. I feel more like an emancipated one."

"My, my," said Gillian, "such a sense of freedom. And I wouldn't have been surprised if you'd said a castrated one."

"You're being vulgar, sweetie."

"I am sorry," she said. She moved her face closer. Then, staring right at him the whole while, she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips.

For a moment, Willoughby stood stock-still. His face wore a quizzical look. It hadn't been unpleasant at all, he thought. As a matter of fact – and the realization almost dizzied him – it had been rather pleasurable.

"That wasn't so bad now, was it?" said Gillian.

"No," Willoughby conceded with characteristic honesty.

"I'll admit it. It wasn't bad."

"You'll have to tell Hank," she said.

"I love Hank," he said.

"Sure you do," she said. She moved forward again, and this time – oh my God, thought Willoughby – this time her tongue met his, circling it teasingly and then sucking deep. Willoughby was breathless as he pushed her away. "My God!" he said. He couldn't believe his excitement.

"Face up to it, Willoughby," she said. "You're more straight than you thought you were."

"No," he said. "That's ridiculous."

"You just never met the right woman before, that's all."

"It's the liquor," he said.

"Oh, come off it, Willoughby."

"But Hank…."

"What about Hank? Like what do you think he's doing right now?"

Hank, thought Willoughby. Damn him. Damn him to