It was what I had heard about, read about, dreamed about. I didn't know her name, and she didn't ask mine.
She just wanted me to take her someplace where we could be alone. I wondered what Alice would think.
I caressed her awkwardly and kissed her still more hesitantly so that she looked up at me.
"What's the matter?" she whispered. "What are you thinking?" "About you." "Do you have a place we can go?"
Each step forward was caution. At what point would the ground give way and plunge me into anxiety?
Something kept me moving ahead to test my footing. "If you don't have a place, the Mansion Hotel on Fifty-third doesn't cost too much.
And they don't bother you about luggage if you pay in advance."
"I have a room—" She looked at me with new respect. "Well, that's fine."
Still nothing. And that in itself was curious. How far could I go without being overwhelmed by symptoms of panic?
When we were alone in the room? When she undressed? When I saw her body? When we were lying together?
Suddenly, it was important to know if I could be like other men, if I could ever ask a woman to share a life with me.
Having intelligence and knowledge wasn't enough. I wanted this, too.
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