She smiled. “I just want you to tell me why we should get in the backseat, Jim. That’s all.”
“Don’t you know?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “Maybe you have designs on my virtue. How should I know?”
“Rita—”
Her face softened. “I’m sorry, Jim,” she said. “I don’t like to tease you.”
Not much, I thought. I didn’t say anything.
“It’s just that I don’t want us to get too involved, Jim. Honey, every time we park the car and neck up a storm we go a little farther than we did last time. I’m afraid sometime we won’t be able to stop.”
“What’s wrong if we don’t?”
“Jim—”
“Well, what if we don’t? God, Rita, I want you and you want me and that ought to be enough. Why in hell won’t you let me make love to you?”
“I’ve already told you that.”
“But it doesn’t make any sense!”
She moved closer to me. I could feel her breasts pressing against my chest. My skin felt warm beneath my shirt where she was touching me. Her lips brushed my cheek.
“Not until we’re married,” she said. “I’ve told you a dozen times, darling.”
More than a dozen times, I thought. Closer to a hundred times. I kissed her again, almost absently, thinking that this was just a repeat of a conversation the two of us went through almost every night.
But I had to keep going.
“We’re going to be married,” I said, “as soon as I get enough money saved up so that we won’t have to pick through garbage cans when we want breakfast.”
“I know.”
“I’d marry you now,” I went on. “Waiting was your idea, Rita. I—”
“You know it’s the only sensible thing to do.” She was closer to me now, so close I could feel every outline of her warm body. My arm slipped around her and stroked the firm flesh. I had a hard time getting the next sentence out; I wasn’t much in the mood for conversation.
“Okay,” I said. “Waiting to get married is sensible. But waiting to make love isn’t.”
“Suppose I got pregnant?” she demanded.
The same old arguments every damned night. “You won’t,” I said.
“You can’t be sure about that, Jim. It happens, you know.”
“Then we’d get married right away.”
“And then we’d have everybody counting the months and snickering when the baby was born. I don’t want that, Jim.”
I didn’t answer.
“But that’s not the main thing. I’m an old-fashioned girl, honey. I want to wait until I’m married. That’s all there is to it.”
She seemed to be right—that was all there was to it. That was the trouble.
She snuggled up to me again. “I don’t really feel like talking,” she said. “Do you?”
“No,” I said. “Of course not.”
“We’ll wait then? Until we’re married?”
I nodded.
“Okay,” she said. “Then let’s get in the backseat.”
I opened the door and helped her out and into the backseat. Then I reached for her and she came to me and our mouths met as they always did—hot and hungry and demanding. I kissed her again, savagely.
She purred like a kitten.
Then I was undoing the buttons on her blouse, and my arms were around her. I pressed her close to me and kissed her. My hands caressed her soft flesh. I fumbled with the catches of her bra.
“Here,” she said. “Let me do that.”
She broke away and reached behind her and the motion made her firm breasts strain against the bra until I thought it would break. Then the bra was off and she was in my arms again.
“Rita,” I said. “God, I love you.”
She started to say something but I stopped her mouth with mine. I held her and stroked her and kissed her and watched her turn from a beautiful girl into a hungry, passionate woman in my arms, her eyes burning like purple fires into mine.
Then I slipped my hand under her skirt and she froze.
“Stop,” she said.
“Rita—”
“Stop!” She pushed my hand away and withdrew from me. “Jim, I told you—”
“I can’t help it,” I said. “I’m only human.”
“But I told you.”
I reached for her again, ready to tell her that I would try to control myself, loving her and hating her and wanting only to hold her close and love her.
Then the door opened.
He was about as tall as I am, but there the similarity ended.
He was built like an ox. His forearms were as thick as my legs and there wasn’t an ounce of fat any place on him. It was all