Free Chocolates for Breakfast by Pamela Moore

communicated sensation, a sensation of warmth with a growing tension. She was not that young: she knew that she was attracted to Al and liked the nearness of his body.
    Al leaned down and kissed the back of her neck. Courtney was no longer Courtney, she was a vibrant young woman leaning against him. Gently, he put her head down on the couch and moved her legs until she was lying down beside him. He kissed her shoulder softly and ran his hands along her arms. He put his head against her, and the vibrancy that the young body gave out became intense.
    Courtney, too, had lost her identity in emotion. She had never known a sensation like this. Her mind, the mind that had always ruled her, became shadowy and inconsequential in the passion of her release, and she had no time to regret its passing sovereignty. Her body was suddenly alive, with an awareness she had not known it was capable of. She was wanted, and she was happy in being wanted.
    â€œRelax,” he said softly. “Put your arms around me.”
    As she heard his voice it became real to her, and she was shocked and turned her head away.
    Al sat up and looked at her, young, untouched and somehow defenseless. She lay there, saying nothing, not moving.
    â€œYou’re like a doll,” he said. “A wooden doll.”
    She didn’t answer.
    â€œYou’re a very decent kid,” he said. “I’m glad to see that. You’re all right, Courtney. Stay that way. Don’t let some bastard like me make you.”
    â€œNo, not very decent,” she murmured, for she felt very unclean and sweaty, and she was disgusted at herself. She sat up. Al moved to the couch across from her, taking his grapefruit juice with him.
    â€œI’m sorry kid. I didn’t know—I wasn’t sure. You seemed to know so much more than you do know. I’m sorry if I hurt you, because I’m real fond of you, and I wouldn’t want to hurt you. But I never do think.”
    â€œNo, Al.” She grinned to make him feel better. “Hell, no. I was to blame, too, because I wanted you to make love to me. I wanted somebody to—and then I was afraid and I knew I didn’t want it. Have you got a cigarette?”
    She had never asked for a cigarette; she didn’t really want to smoke, she had learned so recently and was unused to it. But somehow it seemed appropriate to have a cigarette, and she smoked it with concentration, being very careful not to look like a neophyte.
    Al was surprised that she should ask for a cigarette. She had never smoked before, and he didn’t like the idea. But he had lost his right to guide her by becoming merely a man before her. He had lost his place of honor, and he said nothing as she smoked the cigarette and stared into space. He felt awkward in the silence. He had made passes and been rebuffed before, and girls had been embarrassed, but none of them had ever sat silently looking at the opposite wall. He felt like a real heel.
    â€œFor Chrissake,” he said finally.
    Courtney looked up.
    â€œCan I take you to dinner tonight?”
    Courtney didn’t want to. She didn’t want to see him; she wanted to erase what had just happened. But she didn’t want Al to be upset, for after all, a woman should expect to have passes made at her and shouldn’t blame the man. Besides, she knew she couldn’t run away and if she said no she would be running away again.
    â€œOkay, Al.”
    â€œI’ll come by the villa at six.”
    â€œOkay, Al.”
    â€œAll those people should have left the villa by now,” she said. “I think I’ll go back.”
    â€œWant me to introduce you to those kids?” He felt he should do something to restore her to being a kid. He had lectured her mother so much about that, and now he had gone and violated his own purpose.
    â€œNo.” She had no desire to meet them, the young intruders. She was not one with them and never could be. She got