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Karen's face lighted with a smile and she said enthusiastically, "You

must tell me when you can be free and I'll make arrangements. Ob, I'm so

happy!" Tben, impulsively: "Kiss me again, Nimrod."

As be went to her, she tilted up her face, her mouth seeking his eagerly.

He put a hand behind her head, running his fingers gently through her

long blonde hair. She responded by pressing her lips closer. Nim found

himself emotionally and sexually stirred and the thought came to him: How

much promise the next few minutes might hold if Karen were whole in body

instead of what she was. Then he dismissed the thought and broke off the

kiss. For a moment be caressed her hair again, then returned to his

chair.

"If I knew bow," Karen said, "I'd purr."

Nim heard a discreet cough and turned his bead to see Josie standing at

the doorway. The aide-housekeeper had changed from the white uniform she

wore while serving dinner to a brown wool dress. He wondered how long she

had been there.

"Oh, Josie," Karen said, "are you ready to go?" For Nim's benefit she

added, "Josie's visiting her family tonight."

"Yes, I'm ready," the other woman acknowledged. "But shouldn't I put you

to bed before I go?"

"Well, I suppose so." Karen stopped, a faint flush suffusing her cheeks.

"Or perhaps, later on, Mr. Goldman wouldn't mind .

He said, "If you'll tell me what to do, I'll be glad to."

"Well, then, that's settled," Josie said. "So I'll be going, and good

night."

A few minutes later they heard the sound of the outer door closing.

When Karen spoke there seemed a nervousness in her voice. "Josie won't

be back until tomorrow morning. Normally I have a relief aidehousekeeper,

but she's not well, so my big sister is coming for the night." She

glanced at a wall clock. "Cynthia will be here in an hour and a half. Can

you stay until then?"

"Of course."

"If it's inconvenient for you, Jiminy-he's the janitor you met the first

time-will come in for a while."

Nim said firmly, "The hell with Jiminyl I'm here and I'm staying."

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"I'm glad." Karen smiled. "There's some wine left. Shall we kill the

bottle?"

"Good idea." Nim went into the kitchen, found glasses and the recorked

Cabernet. Returning, he divided the remaining wine and held one of the

glasses while Karen sipped.

"I feel a wonderful glow," she said, "The wine helped, but that isn't all

of it."

On impulse he leaned over, raised Karen's face in his hand, and kissed

her once more. She responded as ardently as the other times, except that

the kiss was longer. At length, reluctantly, he moved back, though their

faces remained close.

"Nimrod." lt,~vas a whisper.

"Yes, Karen."

"I think I'm ready to go to bed."

He found his pulse beating faster. "Tell me what to do."

"Unplug my wheelchair first."

Nim went to the rear of the chair and did so. The power cord retracted

into a housing as the battery on the chair took over.

A sudden smile of mischief flashed across Karen's face. "Follow me!"

Using the electric wheelchair's blow-sip tube control, and with a speed

and dexterity which amazed him, Karen maneuvered herself from the living

room, down a small hallway, and into a bedroom. There was a single bed,

neatly turned down. Beside it a low-wattage light burned dimly. Karen

swung her chair so it was at the foot of the bed, facing away.

:'There!" She looked at Nim expectantly.

'All right. What next?"

"You lift me out of the chair, then just pivot-the way you would if ),on

were playing golf-and put me on the bed. When Josie does it we use a body

sling that winds up like a crane. But you're strong, Nimrod. You can lift

me in your arms."

He did so, gently but surely, aware of the warm softness of her body, and

afterward followed instructions which Karen gave him about her breathing

apparatus. He switched on a small Bantam respirator already at the

bedside; at once he could hear it cycling-a dial showed fifteen pounds

of pressure; the rate was eighteen breaths a minute. He put a tube from

the respirator into Karen's mouth; as she began breathing the pressure

went to thirty. Now she could dispense with the pneumobelt she had been

wearing beneath her clothes.

"Later," Karen said, "I'll ask you to put a chest respirator on me. Not

yet, though."

She was horizontal on the bed, her long hair spread over the pillow. The

sight, Nim thought, would have excited Botticelli.

He asked, "What do I do now?"

"Next . , ." she said, and in the soft, dim light lie saw a blush bloom

again on her cheeks. "Next, Nimrod, you undress me."

2o8

Karen's eyes were partly closed. Nim's hands were shaking and he wondered

if what he thought was happening could be true. Not long ago, he

remembered, he had told himself that falling in love with Karen would

involve love without sex-in contrast to sex without love which he bad

experienced so often before. Was he wrong? With Karen could there

conceivably be love and sex? But if it happened, surely he would be

despicable, taking brutish advantage of her helplessness. Could he?

Should he? The ethical issues seemed a nightmare tangle of unanswered

questions, a moral labyrinth.

He had unbuttoned Karen's blouse. Now be raised her shoulders while he

eased it from her arms. She wore no brassiere. Her small breasts were

superbly shaped, the tiny nipples slightly raised.

"Touch me, Nimrod." It was a soft command. Responding, be moved his hands

lightly over her breasts, his fingertips caressing, then knelt and kissed

them. At once he felt her nipples harden. Karen murmured, "Oh, that's

wonderful!"

A moment later she told him, "The skirt unfastens on the left side."

Still gentle, he unbuttoned and removed it.

When Karen was naked, doubts and anxiety still plagued him. But be moved

his bands, slowly and with skillful sensuality, as he knew by now she

wanted. Soft murmurings made her pleasure clear. After a while she

whispered, "I want to tell you something."

He whispered back, "I'm listening."

"I'm not a virgin. There was a boy it happened when I was fifteen, just

before I . . ." She stopped, and he saw that tears were rolling down her

cheeks."

"Karen, don't!"

She shook her bead. "I want to tell you. Because I want you to know there

hasn't been anyone else in all those years; no one, between then -and

you."

He waited, letting the purport of what she bad said sink in before be

asked, "Are you telling me . . . ?"

"I want you, Nimrod. All the way. Now!"

"Ob Christ!" Nim breathed the words, aware that his own desiresnever

difficult to unleash-were making themselves known in urgent terms. Then

he threw the complex equations overboard and started taking off his

clothes.

Nim had wondered, like others he supposed, bow it would be for an

unimpaired man to make sexual love to a quadriplegic woman. Would someone

like Karen be totally passive? Would the man make all the effort,

obtaining no response? And in the end would there be pleasure for one,

or both, or neither?

He was discovering the answers, and all were unexpected.

Karen was demanding, responsive, exciting, satisfying.

Yes, in one sense she was passive. Her body, other than her head was

unable to move. Yet Nim could feel the effect of their lovemaking

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transmitting itself through her skin, vagina, breasts, and most of all her

passionate cries and kisses. It was not, he thought in a flash of whimsy, at

all like having sex with a mannequin, as some might suppose. Nor was the

pleasure brief. It was prolonged, as if neither wanted it to end. He had a

sense, over and over, of glorious eroticism, of floating and soaring, of joy

and loving, until at last, as always, the ending came: Attainment of a

summit; climax of a symphony; the zenith of a dream. And for them both.

Could a quadriplegic woman have an orgasm? EmphaticallV, yes!

And afterward . . . once more . . . a return to tenderness and kindly

loving.

Nirn lav still, carefullv considerate of Karen, blissful, spent. He won-

dered wbat she was thinking and if, in the aftermath, she had regrets.

As if telepathy had delivered both questions, Karen stirred. She said

drowsily but happily, "Nimrod, a mighty hunter of the Lord." Then: "This

day has been the best in all my life."

4

Cynthia said, "I had a bard day and I could use a drink. There's usually

scotch around here. How about Von? "

Nim told her, "Count me in.' ; It was an hour since he had made love to

Karen, who was now sleeping. He felt the need for a drink too.

Karen's older sister had come to the apartment twenty minutes ago, using

her own key. Nim had finished dressing sometime earlier.

She bad introduced herself as Cynthia Woolworth. "Before you ask the

question, no, my husband-unfortunately-is not connected with that wealthy

family. I used to spend half my life answering that; now I get it out of

the way at the beginning. Sloan was simpler."

"Thank you," he said. "I'll never mention it again."

Cynthia, he observed, was different from Karen, but also similar. Where

Karen was blonde and slim, Cynthia was brunette, her figure full, though

not excessively. Clearly, too, Cynthia's personality was more forceful and

outgoing, though perhaps, Nim thought, the misfortune which life had dealt

Karen early, and their differences in life styles since, could account for

that. What both had in common was a rare natural beauty-the same delicate

symmetry of features, full lips, wide blue eyes, a flawless skin and-more

developed in Cyntbia-elegant, slim bands. It occurred to Nim that both

Sloan girls had inherited their charms from their mother, Henrietta, in

whom traces of an earlier love-

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liness still lingered. Nim remembered that Cynthia was three years older

than Karen, which made her forty-two, although she appeared younger.

Cynthia located the scotch, then ice and soda, and mixed two drinks

efficiently. The quick economy of her movements showed she was used to

managing for herself. She had demonstrated that from the time she arrived

at the apartment, shook out her dripping raincoat and hung it in the

bathroom, then following mutual introductions, instructed Nim, "All

right, you sit down and relax-bere, I brought the evening paperand I'll

do what's needed for my sister."

She had walked into Karen's bedroom, closing the door so that Nim could

hear a murmur of voices, but no more.

When Cynthia came out fifteen minutes later, moving quietly, she

announced that Karen was asleep.

Now, seated facing Nim, Cynthia swirled the liquor and ice in her glass

and informed him, "I know what happened here tonight. Karen told me."

Startled by the directness, all he could think of in response was, "I

see.

Cynthia threw back her head and laughed. She pointed an accusing finger.