Free Chances by Jackie Collins

go up.
Not
that I’m about to oblige you,” he added quickly.
    “Did you tell me that you’re black hoping it would put me off?” she taunted.
    “Nope. I told you because I wanted to get you off my back. Sex with a stranger is not my idea of fun.”
    “Shame! You don’t know what you’re missing.”
    “Oh, yes, I do. And anyway, I don’t sleep with white women.”
    She snorted. “God! You’re so self-righteous. And why, may I ask, don’t you sleep with white women?”
    “Because they fall into two categories.”
    “And what are they?”
    “You really want to know?”
    “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”
    “O.K. They’re either looking for the myth of the giant black penis, or they are being so damn liberal it’s sickening. You know: ‘Look at me, I’m sleeping with a black man, aren’t I daring?’”
    Lucky laughed. “I know the type. But I can assure you I don’t fall into either of those two categories.”
    “I
bet
you don’t.”
    They were both silent for a few minutes.
    Steven wondered why he was revealing so much of himself to her. He was telling her more than enough. He would be sorry when the lights went up and they were both jarred back to reality.
    “I divide men into two categories.” Lucky broke the silence. “I meet a guy and I know immediately which one he falls into.”
    “What categories do you have?”
    “The guy I screw right off. And the guy I want to get to know first. Men in the second category are far and few between.”
    Steven laughed mirthlessly. “You sound like you have your problems. Next you’ll be telling me you were badly treated as a child.”
    “My father wasn’t exactly the average guy in the street. In fact I had to keep him a big dark secret or I wouldn’t have had any action at all.”
    “Why? What was he, a policeman?”
    “It doesn’t matter.” She stood up and stamped her booted foot. “Shit! When are we going to get out of here?”
    “Sit down and keep calm. Getting excited isn’t going to help.”
    “Listen, I couldn’t get
you
excited, so why shouldn’t I?”
    “Because. We’ve got a long hot night ahead of us. Conserve your energy.”
    “You’re right.” She slumped back into the corner and unzipped her boots. Then she wriggled out of her jeans. “Whew! That’s better!”
    “What is?”
    “Take your clothes off. I have.”
    “We had that conversation—”
    “Not for sex, stupid. It’s just a lot cooler.”
    He contemplated her suggestion. But how would it look when they were discovered if he was practically naked?
    “I bet I know what you’re thinking,” she teased.
    “What?”
    “You’re thinking, If I take my clothes off will she attack me? Will she leap on my virgin flesh and—”
    He couldn’t help smiling. “You
are
mad.”
    “Oh, sure I am. Bin mad all my life, it gets me through the day. Take your clothes off. I promise I won’t lay a finger on you.”
    He wondered what she looked like. He couldn’t even make out her shadow, the blackness was so dense. He imagined she was blond, slightly buxom, with protruding teeth and a nice smile.
    She wondered what he looked like. Studious, probably wore glasses. An Alex Haley, certainly not an O. J. Simpson.
    “You didn’t think I really meant it when I said let’s fuck, did you?” she asked curiously.
    He hesitated before replying. He was sure that she
had
meant it. “Of course not.”
    She laughed wickedly. “Well, I did. Nothing like a good fuck to take one’s mind off things!”
    Costa was dozing on the couch in his office when the phone rang. He groped for the instrument and sent a table lamp crashing to the floor. Then he remembered that he was still in his office and stumbled up, still half asleep, and made his way over to the desk. He lifted the receiver. “Yes?”
    “Costa?”
    “Yes. Who is this?”
    “It’s me, Dario. I thought I’d never find you. I called your club, then your home, then I thought maybe you were still at the office…. God!