Fortnight of Fear Read Free Page B

She’s naked underneath that dress, he thought to himself, or practically naked. She’s just too incredibly sexy to be true.
    What could he say to her? Should he say anything?
Could
he say anything? He thought dutifully for a moment about Margaret, but he knew that he was only being dutiful. This woman existed on a different planet fromMargaret, she was one of a different species. She was feminine, sexual, undomesticated, elegant, and probably dangerous, too.
    The barman approached him. “Can I fix you another drink, sir?”
    â€œI – unh –”
    â€œOh, go ahead,” the woman smiled. “I can’t bear to drink alone.”
    Gil flushed, and grinned, and shrugged, and said, “All right, then. Yes.” He turned to the woman and asked, “How about you?”
    â€œThank you,” she acknowledged, passing her glass to the barman, although there was a curious intonation in her voice which made it sound as if she were saying thank you for something else altogether.
    The barman set up the drinks. They raised their glasses to each other and said, “
Prost!
”
    â€œAre you staying here?” Gil asked the woman. He wished his words didn’t sound so tight and high-pitched.
    â€œIn Amsterdam?”
    â€œI mean here, at the Amstel Hotel.”
    â€œNo, no,” she said. “I live by the sea, in Zandvoort. I only came here to meet a friend of mine.”
    â€œYou speak perfect English,” he told her.
    â€œYes,” she replied. Gil waited, expecting her to tell him what she did for a living, but she remained silent.
    â€œI’m in transportation,” he volunteered. “Well, buses, actually.”
    She focused her eyes on him narrowly but still she said nothing. Gil said, “I go back to London tomorrow. Job’s over.”
    â€œWhy did you come running after me?” she asked. “You know when – this afternoon, when I was leaving the hotel. You came running after me and you stood outside the hotel and watched me go.”
    Gil opened and closed his mouth. Then he lifted bothhands helplessly, and said, “I don’t know. I really don’t know. It was – I don’t know. I just did it.”
    She kept her eyes focused on him as sharply as a camera. “You desire me,” she said.
    Gil didn’t reply, but uncomfortably sat back on his barstool.
    Without hesitation, the woman leaned forward and laid her open hand on his thigh. She was very close now. Her lips were parted and he could see the tips of her front teeth. He could smell the Bacardi on her breath. Warm, soft, even breath.
    â€œYou desire me,” she repeated.
    She gave him one quick, hard squeeze, and then sat back. Her face was filled with silent triumph. Gil looked at her with a mixture of excitement and embarrassment and disbelief. She had actually reached over and touched him – not touched him,
caressed
him, this beautiful woman in the white dress, this beautiful woman whom every businessman in the bar would have given his Christmas bonus just to sit with.
    â€œI don’t even know your name,” said Gil, growing bolder.
    â€œIs that necessary?”
    â€œI don’t really suppose it is. But I’d like to. My name’s Gil Batchelor.”
    â€œAnna.”
    â€œIs that all, just Anna?”
    â€œIt’s a palindrome,” she smiled. “That means that it’s the same backwards as it is forwards. I try to live up to it.”
    â€œCould I buy you some dinner?”
    â€œIs
that
necessary?”
    Gil took three long heartbeats to reply. “Necessary in what sense?” he asked her.
    â€œIn the sense that you feel it necessary to court me somehow. To buy me dinner; to impress me with yourtaste in wine; to make witty small-talk. To tell me all those humorous anecdotes which I am sure your colleagues have heard one hundred times at least. Is all that necessary?”
    Gil licked his lips. Then