Taxi to Paris (8 page)

Her hand appeared next to the steering wheel and turned off the headlights. "So do it," she said. I froze. She touched my thigh briefly below the steering wheel, then took it away. The spot on my leg still burned. I turned toward her. "Would you believe me if I told you that wasn't why I asked you out?"

"No." Her voice still had a bit of a smile to it. "But that doesn't matter."

Yes, it matters to me! Still - her proximity and willingness destroyed my self-control. I bent over her and found her throat with my mouth. She laid her hand on my shoulder and caressed it gently. While enjoying the silkiness of her skin, I ran my hand slowly down her side until I found her breast. She moaned softly. My lips wandered to her mouth. She was ready for me. While my tongue sought hers, she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me as close to her as the cramped quarters would allow. Then she let an arm fall and felt around for the lever that reclined the seats. I stopped kissing her. "You don't want to ... here?"

"Why not?" She probably did this more often than I did. At any rate, it sounded incredibly uncomfortable to me. My lips still burned from her kisses, and I could imagine that she was quite capable of making me forget where we were. But at the same time I realized that she hadn't believed me. So I sat back up in my own seat.

"This really isn't why I invited you," I grumbled as I started the car. Before she could react, we were back on the road.

"You don't even believe that yourself," she replied. She was right, but I wasn't about to tell her that.

Instead I tried to learn something more about her. "Why don't you believe it? Why do you think that everyone only wants to sleep with you?" I didn't know quite where I intended to go with this conversation, but at least it would distract me from my lustful thoughts momentarily.

Her answer shook me. "Because that's the way it is," she said.

I found the calm and naturalness with which she said those words horrible. What kind of effect would it have on her self-esteem if she were convinced of this? On her idea of life? I suddenly felt very cold. Perhaps it would've calmed me if I'd gotten the impression that she only meant that statement about her clients. In that case, such a belief would be entirely justified. A client really would come to her for that reason only. But strangely, it sounded to me like a general observation. An observation she'd made in all of her relationships, not just her professional ones. That's why it was so upsetting.

I looked away from the street and at her for a moment. "You're a very desirable woman, that's undisputable," I stated finally, "but you have other qualities."

She laughed aloud for a moment. "Yes? What are they?"

She'd taken me completely by surprise. I knew how I felt about her, but had yet to identify what exactly was behind that. So I had to think about it.

"You see," she said. "You can't think of any either." On the one hand, she seemed pleased by this. I had demonstrated what she truly believed. On the other hand, there was a hint of resignation in her diagnosis. Maybe she had hoped a little tiny bit that I would be able to show her an alternative she had yet to consider. And I had failed.

"That is absolute nonsense," I protested, more upset about my lack of presence of mind than about the confirmation of her self-assessment.

"Come, come." She seemed to want to pacify me more than herself. "Don't trouble yourself about it." She was disillusioned in such a way that it somehow touched me deep inside. But, as with most apparently hopeless causes, the fighting spirit awoke in me.

"I would really like to trouble myself quite a bit about it," I explained carefully. I was aware of the risk that if I started this I might get too close for her comfort. That could cause her to cut me off entirely and prevent me from ever getting close again.

She let out another dry little laugh. "Why?" she asked contemptuously.

"Because I believe that you're worth it." She fell silent at that. I couldn't make out any of her reaction, except that she didn't answer. We drove silently through the darkness, except for the occasional dim glow of a streetlight. I would've loved to look at her, but I had to pay attention to the road.

It wasn't long before we arrived in the neighborhood of her apartment. I found a parking place right in front of the entrance to the pedestrian zone. "So." I shut off the motor. "I'm sorry, Madam, but I cannot take my vehicle any farther into the pedestrian area." I kidded around to avoid sitting there in the unbearable silence for another minute. I could never tolerate that kind of tense silence. Perhaps we would have something in common after all? When she didn't say anything and made no move toward getting out of the car, I tried again. "They have such arcane customs for keeping away unauthorized vehicles." I shuddered. "The Towing Torture, for example."

"Why are you doing this?" she asked. Now that I wasn't trying to drive, I could see that she was hanging her head. She didn't look up despite my address.

I really didn't know exactly what she was referring to, and for some reason I was slowly beginning to fear for my own courage. What if I had destroyed everything with that? So I had to ask. "What do you mean?"

"You're going to leave me someday too," she said quietly.

I had to laugh at her theatrics. "Thanks for the hint, Pythia," I said so good-naturedly that it camouflaged my fear. I knew her so little, knew so little about her, that every glimpse at her inner self was a voyage into the darkness of the universe. There were so many possibilities for a catastrophe in there. And I could do no more than a child who whistles when going into a dark basement.

She didn't stir. "Would you like -" my voice was starting to sound a little husky. I had to clear my throat. "Would you like to stay out here?"

She started a little, as though she were waking from a dream. "No - no, of course not. Pardon me, please. I'm sure you want to get home."  I wasn't so sure of that. Just the opposite. She reached for the door and opened it. I got out quickly and went around to her side of the car. "Oh," she said, freshly astonished. "I forgot how gallant you are." She smiled again a little.

"Less gallant than well-reared," I said. "I can't take credit for it." I didn't actually want to start a big discussion about my manners.

She leaned against the car and looked at me. With one of her inimitably flowing motions, she separated herself from the car and came to me. I had the sudden desire to flee. Pure instinct, like a wild animal. But she'd already reached me. She let herself sink against me. I felt the suppleness of her breasts and the gentle pressure of her body against mine. "I like it anyway," she whispered in my ear. "It's been a long time since I've been spoiled this way."

I put my arms around her and felt her nestle up even closer to me. "Come with me," she breathed, right into my ear. I still didn't want to admit that I'd been hoping for this kind of ending to the evening. I would've thought she wanted just the opposite. But obviously, she could read minds. "I believe you," she whispered, ever so softly.

And I wanted to believe that she believed me! I pulled myself away from her gently and locked the car. She was already at the door to her building. It was only a few yards away. While we waited for the elevator, she put her hand on the back of my neck and gave me a suggestive little kiss. She brushed her lips against mine ever so lightly, just touching them with the tip of her tongue. Before I could part my lips and take her in, she had pulled away. "Oh, you're mean!" I moaned.

She laughed seductively. "Yes, I know. But that raises the excitement, doesn't it?" As if that were necessary!

When we got to her apartment, she took a few steps inside and then turned to face me. "I'd like to put on something a little more comfortable. Would you mind?"

It was as though a wall had suddenly gone up between us. I couldn't touch her, although she was right in front of me. What kind of an idiot was I? I should have known. As soon as she was in this room... Everything that had to do with sex was work for her, even when it started out looking like play. I was sick of this cat-and-mouse game. Couldn't it work any other way?

"Why are you asking me that?" I asked back. "What could my decision about whether or not I mind have to do with what you actually do?"

I couldn't have surprised her as much if I'd suddenly stripped naked. Indeed, that would have been much more logical behavior. Although she'd already heard a few things from me this evening that didn't fit her usual pattern, she had still seemed prepared to go through with her regular routine. In any case, she looked at me like my reaction had caught her completely off guard.

"Would you rather I stayed like I am?"

Not that again! This was, in part, where our difficulties were coming from. The other part came from me, I knew that. Our sensibilities just didn't seem to fit together. That made communication very difficult.

She was wearing a summer dream of crepe de chine that went beautifully with her - as I now knew - grey eyes, a dress that really only worked on women over six feet tall. I'd envied women of her height since grade school. Regardless, whether she took it off or kept it on, what she put on instead or didn't - that couldn't be my decision. Not at this moment, anyway. "You haven't been listening to me," I remarked.

"Yes I have." She was visibly unsettled, even though she was trying to control herself. "But you're not exactly making it easy."

"That's not the point." I'd finally found a plane on which mutual understanding seemed possible. "I'd rather things were different, believe me."

"What do you want, then?" She seemed very irritated now, maybe even a bit overtired, despite the not-so-late hour. Who knew what kind of week she'd had? Perhaps it had been more stressful than I could imagine in my wildest dreams. I softened my tone a bit. Then I remembered what kind of activities would have caused that potential stress, and my kindly manner disappeared again.

"That's a good question, and one I've asked myself often. If I knew the answer, I probably wouldn't be here." Why should I make things easier for her than she was for me?

She went over to the sofa and dropped her purse. Then she pulled off the light summer gloves she'd been wearing and threw them after it. While she did that, she turned halfway toward me and watched me out of the corner of her eye. It looked like a scene from a film.

"Good," she said, sitting on the sofa and crossing her legs. "What now?"

"I would like to have a conversation with you," I said, so naturally as though I'd never intended anything else.

"Conversation." A swarm of overfed ravens at which one tossed a single grain could not have seemed more contemptuous.

"Is that so unusual?" Her reaction had unsettled me yet again. She questioned everything I took for granted. The idea that people would talk to each other before sleeping together, for example. But I didn't really want to show her how much she unsettled me. So I waited for her answer.

She didn't answer right away. "Somewhat," she said at last.

"Which brings us back to the topic at hand," I retorted rather cheerfully. I never knew I had this much talent for acting. Actually, I felt miserable. She'd put up such a solid wall around herself, there wasn't even a crack through which I might catch another glimpse of the real her.

Her forehead wrinkled. "The topic at hand?"

"Mm-hmm. You found this entire date to be unusual from the beginning. And me too, apparently. From time to time." This couldn't go on so doggedly for much longer. She would exhaust me before I even saw a light at the end of the tunnel.

"That's true. From time to time." She smiled so suggestively, the Mona Lisa would've looked like a grinning nun next to her.

"Why do you think I asked you out?"

"My god," she sighed, annoyed. "Not that again!"

"Yes, that again! That's the crux of the matter." I didn't let up. "So, what do you think?"

She sighed again. "What do you want to hear?" Her bored tone indicated that she would tell me anything I wanted to hear if I would just drop this subject.

"Something convincing," I said. "Something true."

"Christ!" Now she was almost laughing, if sarcastically. "And you have no other wish?" She leaned toward me a bit. "A wish I could fulfill for you?" She took on a seductive tone.

"You're just trying to distract me," I answered uneasily. I noticed that her method worked on me immediately, despite my careful mental defenses.

"Why not?" She'd registered my reaction immediately. She turned the seduction up another notch. She rose and started toward me. "There are plenty of nice things with which we might amuse ourselves."

I backed up against the door and held up my arm. "Watch out," I said. "If you take another step, I'm leaving. Maybe that's exactly what you want, but if not, then stay where you are." When I was in college, we'd never handled anything like this in Communication Theory. Once again, my education had failed to provide practical information! I had to learn all the important things from experience.

She laughed and stood still. "Okay. Whatever you want," she confessed cheerfully. "But we're not going to get very far this way." She beheld my face with a derisive smile.

"That depends on where we're trying to get," I said. I tried to suppress a sigh of relief.

"I'm beginning to wonder about that myself." Her tone of voice had changed. She seemed more earnest now. She turned and walked back toward the couch, then changed her mind and chose one of the two armchairs that sat at opposite ends of the coffee table. She eased herself into it and offered me the other. "I'm not dangerous at the moment." She smiled. "Have a seat."

I wasn't quite sure whether I could believe her - her brand of "not dangerous" was rather like an unarmed atomic bomb - but all this dancing around the possibility of mutual understanding had worn me out. I was glad of the chance to sit down, and took it. The two chairs were far enough apart, and the table was between them. This way, I could look her in the eye with a bit less effort. She looked at me questioningly. She wasn't going to take control this time. At this point, she obviously didn't feel she was in charge.