Bloodchild (23 page)

"Oh, I'm all right," he said. He thought about getting up quickly and going upstairs, but he couldn't take his eyes off her. Another button on her uniform had come undone. The material retreated from her cleavage, and the pinkish white skin of her breasts slipped farther out of the grip of her bra.

"You need sympathy and comfort too," she whispered, her lips molding around the words, holding the vowels like bubbles between them. "I'm here to help you as well, Harlan."

Her right hand moved up the inside of his thigh so rapidly that when her fingers touched his building erection, he didn't pull back. Nor did he pull back when her lips met his. She pressed her tongue into his mouth quickly, finding his and triggering a surge of sexual electricity down into his chest. He felt as if his whole body lit up. His heart thumped madly, the beat so hard and fast that it frightened him, but she was so aggressive and so firm, he didn't resist.

Later he would try to tell himself that he didn't realize what was happening. He had been so stimulated at dinner. Dana looking so voluptuous, her lips moist, her eyes bright, that robe slipping away from her bosom, had aroused him, and then the desire had retreated, leaving him hanging on the edge of passion. The hunger he had sensed at the table came over him more forcefully now. He told himself his feelings were only natural. It had been so long since he'd made satisfying love. And then there was the wine. Much could be blamed on that.

She peeled his clothes off so gracefully and quickly, he hardly realized it was being done. All the while he felt numb, as if her tongue had stung his own and transferred some anesthetic into his body. In moments he was naked. She spread him out on the couch, laying him out as if he were a handicapped patient in a hospital bed, stroking his chest, running her hands down his arms right to the tips of his fingers and then pressing her palms against his sides and over his lower stomach, circling his erect penis as though it were not to be touched. She came so close, however, that he practically felt her hand slip over him. She continued down the inside of his legs, separating them softly as she did so.

Finally she stood up and slipped out of her uniform and undergarments, while he watched dumbly, unable to move, unable to speak, fascinated with the way her breasts inflated as the tight bra was pulled away.

Lying beside her, he thought his own pale white body—with its tiny, dark hairs curled over his chest and legs—looked like the more fragile and feminine one. Although she had a woman's figure, there was something hard and sharp about the way her waist curved and her buttocks lifted.

When she brought her lips close to his again and he was able to look into her eyes, he found himself looking into an infinite pair of eyes, two tunnels with mirrored walls that reflected the dark pupils endlessly, deeply. He sensed himself falling into those tunnels, slipping, sliding along the icy surfaces. He reached out in vain, his fingers unable to grasp anything to prevent his continued descent. Yet he didn't scream; he fell mutely, like one unable to understand the true significance of what was happening.

The dizziness that came from the illusion of falling down the mirrored tunnels and the pungent scent of her body, hot against his, caused him to close his eyes and act like a patient under treatment. He was vaguely aware of her hands gripping him around his ribs. He thought she was actually lifting his body and turning it to fit him comfortably between her legs.

Though he vaguely understood that he was being seduced, was being unfaithful to Dana, he couldn't prevent himself from becoming sexually stimulated. Her breasts softened against his chest, and her nipples were pressed against his own.

Yet this lovemaking was different and in many ways unreal.

He had no sense of her as an individual. A parade of women passed through his mind: women he had fantasized making love to and women he
had
made love to—they all merged into a common female, eventually faceless. When his orgasm came, it seemed to come within him instead of within her, as if all of this had been a fantasy.

He came out of it like a man rising from the bottom of a dark, cool pool of blood, gasping and swinging his arms around, pulling himself up from unconsciousness and frantically throwing off the blanket of sleep. He shouted once and opened his eyes.

"Easy," she said. She slipped off him, rising as though she were made of an airy substance. "Relax," she said. "You're all right now. All's well. You'll feel better now. I was happy to help you," she said, and began to dress herself.

He looked around in confusion. Had he really made love to her? She was smiling down at him as though he had. He looked over his naked body and then sat up quickly.

"You should get dressed," she whispered, then smiled. "You don't want Dana to find you like this."

"What?" He looked at the open doorway and then hurried to get his clothing on. She left as he did so. A few moments later she returned, carrying a tray with a cup of coffee on it.

"Better drink this," she said.

"What happened? What did we do?"

"Nothing terrible," she said. "Sometimes," she said, "sex is a kind of therapy—a treatment, if you will. And I'm here to help. Don't think of it as anything more, if you like." She was smiling licentiously now. Her face looked so different. The sternness was gone, as well as the coldness in her dark eyes.

"I've never been unfaithful to my wife before," he said. "Never."

"Poor Harlan." She reached out and ran her right hand over his cheek. "Don't think of it as being unfaithful. If you want, I'll explain it all to Dana."

"No! What are you, mad?" He looked toward the door again. "Look, I'm sorry. It must have been the wine. I don't know what I was doing. I shouldn't have led you to believe I wanted any… any…"

"Sex?" She laughed. "It certainly didn't seem that way. Drink your coffee," she ordered, her voice returning to its more commanding tone. He took the coffee and sipped it, his eyes never leaving her as she stood over him like a nurse administering medication to a patient. Satisfied, she turned to leave. "Wait," he called.

"Yes, Harlan?"

"I…"He looked at the couch again. "What should I do now?"

"Why, go to sleep, Harlan. You're tired. You need your rest. It's been an exhausting day," she said, and left him. He stared at the empty doorway for a moment and then drank the coffee eagerly, as if convinced it was the correct prescription. After he finished it he got up and went upstairs to see how Dana was doing. He was still in a bit of daze, finding it hard to believe he had just made love to a woman who was practically a stranger. And in his own house! Him! Harlan Hamilton, a man who shied away from the young, attractive coeds in his classes as if they all carried the AIDS virus. A man normally so shy, the students called him Mr. Blush because of how quickly his carrot-tinted complexion turned crimson.

Dana was sitting up in bed reading, just the way she often did before the baby had been brought home. She looked brighter, stronger, far less pale and tired than before.

"Wonderful meal, wasn't it?" she said when he entered the bedroom.

"Yes." He couldn't help feeling guilty. Now he wondered if that guilt was evident in his face. Would Dana know what he had done? Would she see it, sense it? How could he explain?

"Isn't she an amazing woman? I feel so much more secure now that she's in the house, don't you?" For a moment he couldn't respond. "Don't you, Harlan?" she demanded, putting her book down and leaning forward.

"Well… yes, I'm glad she's here. It was a good idea." He was afraid to give her any other answer now, afraid of rousing any suspicion.

Dana smiled and nodded with satisfaction, as though he had recited an answer she had taught him a long time ago. "I'm going to read a little more," she said. "I don't feel as tired tonight. The extra vitamins, the good food, being relieved of some of the work with the baby… it's all revitalizing me," she said.

"I'm glad. You do look better." He approached her and kissed her on the forehead. Her skin felt cool, healthy, not hot and steamy like before. For a moment he had the urge to tell her about the incident with Nurse Patio; he wanted to confess, but he was afraid of what would happen, what damage it might do to her apparent recovery. "I'm a bit sleepy, though," he said, standing back. "Drank too much of that wine. The coffee helped, but I think I'll turn in."

"The light won't bother you?"

"Not tonight. Nothing will bother me tonight," he said, and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He sensed that he really would sleep like a baby.

That made him laugh: sleep like a baby. Nikos was certainly the king when it came to that. That baby could sleep, but he supposed all babies slept long hours. It was during those hours of sleep, Dana had once told him, that they would do most of their growing, and growing was certainly something Nikos was doing. Maybe because he slept so much, he thought. He laughed at the idea. Little Rip van Winkle.

It had been a long, difficult day. It was good to be bringing it to an end. Morning, with its bright sunlight and new start, would initiate his stream of optimism again. He would bring Colleen home. Dana would continue to get stronger, they wouldn't need the nurse anymore, and their difficult start would come to an end. There truly would be a new beginning.

He looked at himself in the mirror. Had he really just made love to that woman? It had happened so quickly, and he had made no effort to resist. Not really. He shook his head. Maybe it had been only a dream. Maybe it hadn't happened. Maybe it'd been an illusion caused by the wine. Could he convince himself of that? If only he could… he could live with that.

He started to brush his teeth, but he was so tired, he could barely move the bristles back and forth over the enamel. He'd rinsed out his mouth, put the brush back in the cabinet, and started to turn away when he saw it: a red spot on his neck that reminded him of the hickey Marlene Cross had given him when he was only in the ninth grade. He'd worn it like a medal of honor, proud of the evidence that he had been passionate with a girl like Marlene. All his buddies had been jealous.

But this was different… this proved something else. Dana hadn't noticed, or if she had, she hadn't thought anything about it. He took some talcum powder and spread it over the reddened area. Satisfied that it was hidden enough, he went out to the bedroom. Dana looked up from her book again.

"I'm getting tired," she said. "It won't be much longer, anyway."

"It's okay." He had his hand over the spots on his neck.

"Anything wrong?"

"No," he said quickly. "All's well," he added, and then realized that was the way Nurse Patio had put it.

All's well for whom? he wondered. But he didn't wonder long. Moments after his head hit the pillow he was in a deep sleep. So deep, in fact, that he never heard Nurse Patio come into the bedroom, nor did he hear Dana get up to follow her out with the baby.

He heard nothing but the echo of his own unanswered questions.

Anticipating Harlan's arrival at the hospital, Colleen got dressed. She felt a great deal more confident and secure about herself this morning, especially after her session with Dr. Lisa. The forty-five-year-old psychologist had a calmness about him that put her immediately at ease. His light blue eyes were the color of the morning sky. He had long, feminine eyelashes and a small, thin mouth; yet his diminutive nose and high, sharp cheekbones didn't make him pretty-faced as much as they gave him a gentle, firm look. She could see that at one time he had had hair only a few shades lighter than Harlan's, but he had begun to gray early, which made his short cut look more like a cross between blond and red.

He introduced himself and then sat in the chair beside her bed. Even though he smiled warmly and joked with the nurses, Colleen sensed he was all business. He measured his words carefully, focusing intently on her answers. After the initial tension she felt about him seeing her, she was convinced of his sincerity and realized that between them they might arrive at a solution to her problem. She liked the way he forced her to analyze herself and then kept her from being too hard on herself.

"Sure, the manifestations of what you're going through are bizarre," he said after they had talked for nearly an hour. "They took a rather dramatic turn: drops of blood, bloodstains, a grotesque corpse in a shed. I'm not surprised, though, given the kinds of graphic and vivid images of horror young people are exposed to today.
Nightmare on Elm Street? Friday the Thirteenth? Halloween Part Twelve...
" He shook his head. "Have you seen any of those?"

"All of them. Some more than once," she confessed.

He dropped her chart on the foot of her bed and sat back, folding his hands behind his head. She relaxed too.

"I know I felt insecure about the baby's arrival, and maybe I exaggerated Dana's personality changes, but I can't believe I would want to see the baby hurt," she protested.

"That part of yourself that felt threatened by the baby reacted." He shrugged. "Unaware of your own subconscious and its capabilities for violent and evil thoughts, you accepted everything at face value. You had no reason to think otherwise. But," he said, leaning forward and slapping his knees, "you've obviously thought all this out very well yourself, Colleen. I'm almost extraneous here. Thanks a lot for making my job a lot easier." He smiled at her and she nodded.

"But what's it going to be like for me now?" she asked.

"Oh, I'm not going to say that all will be hunky-dory. You have some adjustments to make. There is some tension in the house, naturally. But I think when you have reactions or thoughts now, you'll be able to take a second, more objective, look at things and in effect calm yourself down.

"What I mean to say is, I believe you have the wherewithal to handle your problems on your own. Of course, if you come to something that is overwhelming and you feel threatened, you can remain calm by reminding yourself you have people who can and will help you. I'm going to leave my card with you. Call me anytime. I mean that. No matter what time of the night it might be."