Free The Hour of the Gate by Alan Dean Foster

attention to the reins now. Without being told, the lizards would continue to plod onward on their present course.
    â€œBut that’s what life’s all about, isn’t it? Solving a series of problems? When they’re as varied and challenging as these,” and she flicked long nails in the air, a brief gesture that casually encompassed two worlds and a shift in dimension, “why, that adds to the spice of it.”
    â€œThat’s not the kind of problem I’m talking about, Flor. This one is personal.”
    She looked concerned. “Anything I can do to help?”
    â€œPossibly.” He looked up at her. “I think I’m in love with you. I think I’ve always been in love with you. I…”
    â€œThat’s enough,” she told him, raising a restraining hand and speaking gently but firmly. “In the first place, you can’t have always been in love with me because you haven’t known me for always. Metaphysics aside, Jon-Tom, I don’t think you’ve known me long enough.
    â€œIn the second place, I don’t think you’re really in love with me. I think you’re in love with the image of me you’ve seen and added to in your imagination, es verdad, amigo? To be crude about it, you’re in love with my looks, my body. Don’t think I hold it against you. It’s not your fault. Your desires and wants are a product of your environment.”
    This was not going the way he’d hoped, he mused confusedly. “Don’t be so sure that you know all about me either, Flor.”
    â€œI’m not.” She was not offended by his tone. “I mean, how have you ‘seen’ me, Jon-Tom? How have you ‘known’ me? Short skirt, tight sweater, always the perfect smile, perfectly groomed, long hair flouncing and pom-poms jouncing, isn’t that about it?”
    â€œDon’t patronize me.”
    â€œI’m not patronizing you, dammit! Use your head, hombre. I may look like a pinup, but I don’t think like one. You can’t be in love with me because you don’t know me.”
    â€œâ€˜Ere now, wot the ’ell are you two fightin’ about?” Mudge stuck his furry face out from behind the canvas. “’Tis too bloomin’ nice a night for such witterin’.”
    â€œBack out, Mudge,” said Jon-Tom curtly at the interruption. “This is none of your business.”
    â€œOh, now let’s not get our bowels in an uproar, mate. Suit yourself.” With a last glance at them both, he obligingly retreated inside.
    â€œI won’t deny that I find you physically attractive, Flor.”
    â€œOf course you do. You wouldn’t be normal if you didn’t.” She stared out across the endless dark plain, kissed with orange by the rising moon. “Every man has, ever since I was twelve years old. I’ve been through this before.” She looked back at him.
    â€œThe point is you don’t know me, the real Flores Quintera. So you can’t be in love with her. I’m flattered, but if we’re going to have any kind of chance at a real relationship, we’d best start fresh, here and now. Without any preconceived notions about what I’m like, what you’d like me to be like, or what I represent to you. Comprende ?”
    â€œFlor, don’t you think I’ve had a look at the real you these past weeks?” Try as he might, he couldn’t help sounding defensive.
    â€œSure you have, but that’s hardly long enough. And you can’t be certain that’s the real me, either. Maybe it’s only another facet of my real personality, whose aspects are still changing.”
    â€œWait a minute,” he said hopefully. “You said, ‘chance at a real relationship.’ Does that mean you think we have a chance for one?”
    â€œI’ve no idea.” She eyed him appraisingly. “You’re an interesting man, Jon-Tom. The