Free The Sphinx by Graham Masterton

silence between them. Lorie lifted the compress away, took it over to
the washbasin, and wrung it out. Then she ran the cold faucet, testing the
water with the tip of her finger. Gene watched her without saying a word. She
looked twice as beautiful as she had when he had first seen her, and he felt
pleased and amazed that someone could attract lira more and more each day as
she did. She was wearing a plum-colored silk blouse with embroidered cuffs, and
superbly tailored beige slacks. Her wrists were Jangling with gold bracelets,
and around her neck, deep between her breasts, she wore a golden pendant.
    “Lorie,” said
Gene, as gently as he could.
    She didn’t turn
around, but he could see she was Watching him in the circular mirror above the
basin. The pupils of her eyes were dilated and dark.
    “You’re not...
frightened of anything, are you?” Je asked her.
    She turned off
the faucet. “Why should I be?”
    “I don’t know.
That’s what I’m asking you. It’s just that you give me that impression.”
    “There’s
nothing to be frightened of,” she said, coming back to his bedside with the
fresh compress. “We are not the kind of people who feel afraid.”
    “You seem to be
afraid of intruders.”
    She stroked his
hair back before laying the compress on his forehead. Her touch was very soft.
    Her curved lips
were slightly open, and he saw her lick them with, the tip of her tongue in a
way that was innocent but also indescribably sensual.
    “It depends who
the intruders are,” she said. “Soma intruders we welcome.”
    “How about me?
Am I welcome?”
    She smiled
slightly. “Of course you are. I told you before that I think you’re
attractive.”
    “You also told
me to go away.”
    She lowered her
eyes. “Yes,” she said, “I did.”
    Gene took the
compress away from his forehead. Now that the effects of the sedative had
completely worn off, he was fresher and brighter. His shoulder was healing–he
could feel the sinews tightening and the skin growing scabs. There was still a
dull muscular ache from bruises and bumps, but he could tolerate that. He was
beginning to feel less like a helpless invalid and more like a bedridden
politician “Lorie,” he said, “can T use your telephone?”
    She looked at
him warily. “What for?”
    “I need to call
my office. There were a couple of big meetings today and I want to find out
what happened.”
    “Mother
said...”
    “Lorie, I have
to check up. It’s my job. I can’t just sit back here and let the United States
drift rudderless and leaderless into World War Three.”
    Lorie seemed
uncertain. “I don’t know,” she said. “Mother said that she’d rather you didn’t
call anyone.”
    He frowned.
“What did she mean by that?”
    “I’m not sure.
I think she was worried you might call an attorney. You know, about your bites.
    She’s very
anxious that you don’t tell anyone what happened.”
    “I’ve already
promised that I wouldn’t do that,” Gene said cautiously.
    Lorie blushed a
little. “I know.”
    “She told you?”
    “Yes. We had a
row about it. She made me promise to go out with you in return.”
    Gene gave a
humorless laugh. “Listen, I’m not going to force you. If you don’t want to go
out with me, if you really don’t want to, then the last thing I’m going to do
is blackmail you into doing it. I only want to take you out if you genuinely
want to go.”
    She glanced at
him, almost shyly.
    “Well, do you?”
he asked her. “If you don’t, then the best thing we can do is retire gracefully
and leave it at that.”
    She traced a
pattern on the counterpane with her finger. “I was thinking of you,” she said,
in a soft and serious voice.
    “I don’t
understand.”
    She reached out
and held his hand. Her eyes were anxious and intent, as if she was trying to
tell him something without actually speaking it out loud–trying to communicate
some warning that it was impossible to put into words.
    “My mother is a
believer