Nikki (7 page)

“What’s wrong?” He bent down anxiously.

“I’m all right,” she said, barely aloud. “There’s nothing you can do.” Although she looked at him, her eyes were remote as she listened to the music from the auditorium.

“I’ll get the matron.”

She caught his hand suddenly. She clenched it and sat tightly motionless, her face drawn and starkly beautiful.

“I’m afraid,” she whispered. “I don’t even know what I’m afraid of. It’s the music. Hand me my fur, p-please.” She was cold, teeth-chatteringly cold. Though she knew it was an inner cold, she felt warmer the moment he put the white fur around her. It was the feel of his concern, the shielding paternal air about him, actually, that warmed her. He went down on one knee so that his face was on a level with hers, and looked tenderly at her.

“Thank you very much, John.” She put her hand on his cheek, kissed his lips briefly. “Your touch is good, it gives me confidence.” She could love this man, she told herself; she could bring him happiness, and he could give her focus and meaning.

“You’re not afraid now? Because of me? You don’t know what it does to me, your saying that. It turns me inside out. To think I could do that for you. I’d do anything in the world for you.”

“You’re uncomfortable,” she said. “Do get up. I’m all over it now.”

He nodded, stood upright, gazed down at her. “Do you want to go back in?” He didn’t seem to realize he shook his head “no” as he asked.

“No,” she said. She liked the muscular, stallion arch of his neck as he bent his head toward her. She gnawed indecisively at her underlip, then got to her feet. “I need to walk in the fresh air for a few minutes.”

He took his coat and hat when they left the box. “Just in case you don’t feel like coming back in,” he explained.

“I will be going back,” she said firmly. They went out the side entrance. She began a quick, nervous pacing, her stilt-heeled jeweled sandals ticking sharply.

“Whatever you say,” he assured her.

She wasn’t certain if he’d signalled it, or if the driver took the initiative, but a cab pulled up. She glanced questioningly at John, and thought that after all he was Dolores’s choice for her. Dolores was more than her best friend, her only real family … Dolores was her very identity, her other self, her
better
self. No one could come with a higher recommendation than Dolores’s.

Nikki stepped into the cab, gave the driver the address of her apartment. Settling back, she said, “John, I’ve got to warn you, no matter what you’ve heard. Many are called, few are chosen. A man has to be special. Very, very special.”

“I’m special. If for no other reason,” he said, his voice trembling, “if for no other reason than that I love you so very much.”

She didn’t answer, but folded her hands on her lap. He tried to take one of her hands. She resisted.

“You don’t like my using a word like love, yet you cried at that romantic ballet.”

“Almost cried,” she corrected. “All that soft, sweet, romantic childish beauty is dangerous.”

“You’re obviously a deeply sensitive girl. Why should you fight it so?”

“Animals fight to survive, don’t they? Besides, it wasn’t the ballet alone that upset me. You see … it’s the
kind
of beauty it represents. It has painful associations. When I was a little girl my parents often took me up to New York to ballets,” she said quietly. “My parents are dead.”

“Oh. Forgive me … I understand.”

“And so is the little girl dead—the one I was then, the one they loved.”

“You mean in the sense that any child dies with adulthood.”

“No. In the special sense that she—that child, Nicolette—was like that ballet. But me …” She laughed harshly. “Well, Nikki, to coin a phrase, is hard as nails. And I’m damned glad I am, but sometimes I mourn me.”

Unaware, she had given him her hand, and now she let her fingers lace in between his. “Poor kid.”

“Pity’s a form of contempt,” she snapped, then reversed herself at once. “Sorry. That was a contemptible remark. Worse, it’s trite and untrue. I appreciate your sympathy. But, please, no more of it. Let’s talk about … well, for instance, nothing.”

She liked the thick power of his hand and turned her palm up so that it lay under his, and arched her wrist upward. She wasn’t immediately aware of the sensuality of the position … as though her slimly arching, bare hand were her whole body. Then she felt the shiver of motion in his hard thigh muscles against her thigh, like the agitation on a stallion’s flank at the sight, scent or touch of a mare.

She tried to withdraw her hand, but his clamped tightly. She twisted her hand, turned her wrist and fluttered her fingers, but he held them imprisoned. She gave him a snapping look, but he ignored it, and she saw the bright intensity of his eyes as he watched the struggle of her fingers like pale, captive limbs there in the shadow. His enjoyment was so primitively rapish that she felt her heartbeat quicken. Presently she let her hand lie surrendered and unprotesting under his.

He was so strutty in the self-service elevator that Nikki said, “John, I’m a virgin.”

“What!”

“Sobering thought, isn’t it?” she said, stepping out of the elevator. She went to her door, unlocked it.

“It
is
rather a sobering thought.” He laughed uncomfortably, entering the apartment.

Nikki looked up at him with widened, solemn eyes, and said nothing. Then she laughed. “I was joking. You could use a little cooling off and slowing down.”

“Why, you little devil!” He began to laugh, and made a grab for her.

She giggled and sidestepped and walked across the huge room, spilled her white fur on the long low modern sofa, and called back, “There’s some whiskey in the dining room.” She went to the windows and opened the drapes. Outside on Nob Hill the wind carried the vanguard of a fog on racing streamers.

“Drink for you?” he called from the entry hall.

“You know what my Daddy used to say?” she said, opening one of the windows. “He said I was born drunk and would probably go through life needing very few drinks, and that if I wasn’t careful I would end up in a teetotaler’s grave.” She seated herself in the middle of the floor and took off her sandals. She turned, peered toward John across her shoulder. “If you’re waiting for me to be gracious and trot out and get ice and mixer …”

“No, no. I’ll pass the drink.”

She patted the carpet beside her, invitingly. “Would you turn off the lights and bring an ashtray?”

She watched approvingly as he let himself down to the floor. “You’re graceful, like lots of big men. I’ll bet you dance well.”

“You want my opinion, or the consensus?”

She laughed. “And you
stick
to it! Isn’t this a
lovely
view?”

“Views!” His voice came out in a muffled explosion. He caught her and turned her to him, his face swooping down toward hers. At the last instant she evaded his kiss.

“No!”

“Yes! Don’t play with me.”

“It’s not that, John,” she said urgently. “Honestly. It’s
not
. But don’t kiss me that way. Not yet. You see,” she spoke in a small, rushed voice, “I just furnished this place. It’s my new home. You’re my very first guest. So this is a housewarming. See? I didn’t plan it this way. And maybe it’s the only housewarming I’ll have, and you’re almost a stranger. What I would like you to do is just take my face in your hands and kiss me nicely, because you’re my friend and you think I’m nice.”

“Of course,” he said slowly. He took her face softly between his hands and kissed her warmly on the lips. Continuing to hold her face, he drew away and said affectionately, “I am your friend, and I do think you’re nice and it’s a wonderful home. May it bring you great happiness, Nikki.”

“Now you can kiss me the way you really want to.” He kissed her more fervently. When they broke she said, “Very nice, but you’re not as fiery as you were. And I’m glad. It proves you really had that other feeling, and meant every word you said.”

“I did, Nikki. But, your thermometer notwithstanding, I’ve still got my manhood about me!”

She giggled, wagged a playfully scolding finger at him. “Temper!” Well, that’s one more good thing I know about you. Were you always getting in fights as a kid?”

“I was the biggest kid around, and they were always trying to knock my teeth out. They seldom succeeded, I can tell you.”

She lighted two cigarettes. “Here.” She gave him one. “You were born where?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. All right, let’s get my biography done with. I was born in Baltimore. Parents not rich, not poor. Four years at Exeter, a year at MIT, three years in the Navy, Pacific Theater, got to Lieutenant, back to MIT, was married and divorced.”

“What?”

“Right after I got out of uniform. It was just a post-war reaction.”

“What was she like?”

He moaned. “Like a woman. She has no meaning left for me, and at her best she wasn’t in the same league with you—which is what you wanted to hear.”

“Of course. Go on. Jim said you were a brilliant engineer. Who are you working for?”

“Klagg Manufacturing, in production. I’m 32, have sinus headaches sometimes, two fairly close girl friends, numerous male friends and acquaintances, am serious about my work, have no private fortune, but no designs on yours.”

“I bet you have.”

“Shut up,” he said softly.

He turned her face, framed it almost delicately in his big hands, and kissed her mouth strongly. She drew back after a moment, but not abruptly, and he leaned, following her withdrawal, and kissed her forehead.

“Ah-h-h, you,” he said softly, “Nikki, Nikki, you’re so lovely. You make everything else about my life unimportant.” His voice became husky. He jabbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and reached for hers.

She swung her arm away, and he reached past her as though to take her cigarette. But instead he hooked his arm around her back and kissed her mouth and pushed her down until she was lying on the carpet.

“Take the cigarette,” she whispered, breaking away.

While he was occupied with putting out the cigarette she rolled away, got to her feet, and stood looking down at him coolly. She stepped behind him and stood rustling her big skirt, and when he turned she gathered the skirt tight against her legs and backstepped, grinning and watching him as he came forward, on his knees at first, then in an upward surge to his feet. She spun and ran to the window.

“Wait,” she said urgently as he came up behind her. “Look … look out there at the fog.” It had become so thick that the nearby lights were only a blur and the lights three blocks away had vanished. She felt his large hands fold around her shoulder and she took a half step backward, crowding the fullness of her skirt in against him.

His fingers tightened, embedding in the flesh of her shoulders, and she could hear his breathing and feel it, quick and warm on her ear. Nikki laid her head back on his shoulder and slid her shining green eyes to the corners to look up at him. In the diffused light from the outside fog she could see the deep solemnity of his expression.

Nikki coiled one arm up to the back of his head, seized a fistful of his hair, forced his face down into the curve where the side of her neck sloped into her shoulder, and moved herself delicately. She was aware of the rough, sandpapery feel of his beard against the sensitive skin, and the sensation was so exquisite that she might easily have let herself yield. His lips pressed, then parted, and he drew a little of her flesh in between his lips, savoring the taste of her for a moment. Then he bit.

She found herself wildly excited but, resisting the flood of sensation, she spun out of his grasp. He made a faltering move to recapture her, but she darted and circled out of reach. That roused him to pursuit and he took an almost imperceptible step toward her, thinking, Nikki knew, that he could get within reach without alerting her. That cunning of his was unexpected and exciting; she wet her lips and laughed silently, her throat trembling.

She stood just out of reach, facing him, anticipating the split second when he would have crept close enough for a sudden grab. Unconsciously, her hips swayed, and an urgent, intimate whispering sound came from her skirt. His animal stealth and the shadowy light from the encompassing fog made her feel nakedly, primitively alive. He made his move, a lurch and a grab, and Nikki sprang back, her lithe body whip-quick. His shoe slipped on the carpet and he floundered a little, off balance.

She laughed gleefully.

“You little devil!”

“New shoes?” Nikki taunted.

He took off the shoes, standing bent over with one foot up, the knee out so that his legs formed a figure four.

Nikki jeered, “The position you’re in I could push you off balance with only a nudge.” She turned herself, swooshing the big skirt. “So, never say I’m not a sportsman.”

“But
I’ll
give no quarter.”

“Ho, ho. Big man bragging.”

“No quarter,” he repeated, and under the lightness Nikki sensed a deadly earnestness, and the feel of it sent a delicious and terrible shiver down her spine. She began to jounce herself lightly and rhythmically up and down on the balls of her feet, and waited for him.

She’d expected to keep him capturing empty space until he’d shown himself as an awkward oaf. She was mistaken. On the second feint he had her. With surprising deftness he pinioned her crossed wrists behind her and held them with one hand while he gripped the back of her head with the other.

Nikki twisted as he kissed her mouth. He clamped her head and held it. She pitched sidewards and he caught and righted her and forced her body sharply in against his and kissed her mouth harder, sweeping her strongly into his control. He kissed her more and more passionately until they were both trembling and gasping.

He swung her up into his arms and carried her to the long sofa and laid her down so that she could feel the deep fur against her naked back. She squirmed voluptuously against the fur, breathing with her lips apart, and let one arm trail limply to the floor while the other lay on her skirt. She closed her eyes, feeling conquered.

It wasn’t true. She wasn’t conquered, but aware of herself, and when he began to take off her gown she began to fight. She struck with her fists and sat up, and when he pushed her down she drew her legs up and kicked at him. As his weight and strength gradually began to subdue her she let out a loud gasp and with a renewed spurt of vigor began to pummel his side with her knees. Her blows not only failed to stop him, they seemed to stimulate him more.