"The only thing in the world that you really own," she began, "is the body that you live in. So that's the only thing you really have to share."
"I never thought of it that way," I said.
"Hush, child-I'm not through. Have you ever noticed that you never go to bed with anyone unless you're interested in their body?"
I nodded.
"Well, nobody ever goes to bed with you either without being interested in your body. Sex is about bodies. Either you like bodies, my dear, or you don't have sex."
"I like bodies," I said. "I like yours." I put out a tentative hand and let my fingers touch her arm.
"And I like yours," she smiled back at me.
"See-" I said, "that's the part I have trouble with. I never knew that."
"I know," she said. "That's why you're such an asshole. Cute, but still an asshole. Why do you have such a low opinion of yourself? Do you know that's an insult to the people you go to bed with? It means you don't think much of their taste either. It also means that you have to con people into your bed, and when you get them there, the best you can do is use them. Here's what I'm trying to tell you, my sweet lover-you can't have good sex with anyone else until you let yourself experience your own wonderfulness."
"My own wonderfulness ... ?" I squeaked. I cleared my throat. "I, uh-always thought that a person should be... um, modest."
"Hmp," she said. "Modesty is the most arrogant form of conceit. Modesty is an excuse to hide yourself, and that rips people off. If you're wonderful-and you are-then, share it. Don't you think people like being around wonderful people? Don't you?"
"Sure. But I'm not-what you said-wonderful."
She sat up and stared at me. "Who made up that shit?"
"Huh?"
"I said, `who made up that shit?' That you're not wonderful. Trust me, sweetheart-you are positively terrific."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
"This is making me very uncomfortable-" I said. "Couldn't we just get on with what we set out to do ... ?"
"No, we can't. Not until you let it in. I think you're wonderful." I looked away. She was too beautiful.
She put a hand on my chin and turned my face back to hers. "It's all right for you to think I'm gorgeous, huh? But not for me to think you're terrific?"
"But, I'm not-"
"I. Say. You. Are." Her tone of voice left no room for argument.
"I hear you-" I managed to say.
"Do you? Do you really? You need to let this in, stupid. I don't go to bed with losers. I chose you. Did you ever stop to think why?"
"Bad eyesight?" I joked.
She slapped my face. Hard.
When my vision cleared, I was lying on my back and she was on top of me, glaring down at me. "Now that I have your attention," she said, "-don't ever do that again!"
"Do what?"
"Insult my taste in lovers. You're so busy denying your own sexiness you can't even see how horny I am for you. Will you let it in?" Her face was very close to mine. Her eyes were almost too close to focus on. I felt like I was staring into an abyss that I wanted to jump into.
I wanted to tell her something, but I didn't have the words for it. I wanted to ask for help, but I didn't think she could help me. I felt her fingers on my shoulders. I felt her weight on my chest, her legs around mine. I felt myself stiffening with desire-and I was terrified.
She must have seen it in my eyes. She raised herself up and looked down at me.
"Something's the matter, isn't it? There's something deeper, isn't there?"
"I don't deserve you," I said.
"Of course, you don't," she agreed. "I'm a gift, not a payment."
And then she stopped in mid-thought and studied me. "But you don't know how to enjoy sex, do you?"
I didn't answer. She was right. I'd seen other couples laughing and playing together. I'd always wondered how they managed it. I always felt... left out.
"All right-I give up," she said. "We'll do it your way." Abruptly, she rolled off me and out of bed.
"Where are you going?"
"I'll be right back-"
She padded back in carrying an American flag. Fifty-two stars, thirteen stripes. I remembered there had been a small meeting room next door.
She climbed back into bed and began settling herself with exaggerated care. "I'll tell you what," she said seriously. "I'm going to put this flag over my face-" she pulled it up over her head like a sheet "-and you can do it for love of country." And then she lay there and was very very still.
"What-?"
She didn't answer.
I pulled the flag down off her face. She was grinning up at me. "I don't know what else to do," she said, and pulled the flag back up.
"You come out of there!"
"What's the matter!" Her voice came up through the stars and stripes. "Aren't you patriotic?" She cradled her breasts. "Here-pretend that these are the tits of liberty!" And then she jiggled them.
"Lizard-!"
She jiggled her tits again-harder this time.
"This is not funny!" I said.
The flag started shaking. "Then why am I laughing so hard?" she asked. She was making little squeaking noises in her throat. Her chest shook.
I reached to pull the flag away. She grabbed it and held on. I poked her in the ribs instead. She shrieked and jerked her hands down to her stomach. I reached for the flag-she grabbed it againI gave her another poke in the ribs-and another- "Here! You want patriotism? It's Pearl Harbor Day!" I made explosion noises to punctuate each poke. She yelped each time, but she wouldn't stop giggling-she pulled her knees up to her chest.
I hollered, "Banzaiii!" and smacked her on the bottom!
"Oh, you're gonna get it now-" she started.
"Yeah! You and what army?" I pulled the flag away and poked her again; she doubled up on her side, giggling too hard to resist. I grabbed her and rolled her over on her back. "Tits of liberty, huh? It looks more like the two-party system to me. First I'm going to party here-"
"Jim-!" she shrieked in surprise.
"-and then I'm going to party over here! And what's this? A cleavage in the body politic?" I put my face between her breasts and made a big wet razzberry sound. She was laughing like crazy now. She pulled her legs up to kick me away, but I pinned her knees under my chest and held her shoulders down with my hands. I was laughing as hard as she was. "And what's this down here-? The crack of doom?" Her eyes met mine.
And in that moment-I knew. And grinned. I could feel my face splitting in joy. I could see the laughter reflected back in her eyes.
I couldn't catch my breath. I was giggling too hard. And so was she.
We giggled and laughed together and in the middle of it, I bent my face down to hers. Her knees parted, her legs opened beneath me and I lowered myself onto her and into her. She wrapped her arms and legs around me and held on tight. We both did. I gave myself to her, and she to me-and we were joyous.
She was right. I was wonderful.
FIFTY-THREE
SATELLITE RECON gave us the morning pictures: three primary targets and seven backups.
I voted for the one closest to our original crash site. Both Colonel Tirelli and Dr. Fletcher agreed and that settled that.
We reconfirmed our choice a half hour before liftoff, and then we were on our way. Three huge choppers clattered into the air like malevolent insects and turned north across the bay. I remembered this view from before.
I glanced around the chopper. Dr. Fletcher was conferring with Jerry Larson about the layout of monitor probes and sample traps. The crew in the back were sleeping. It was a good idea. We'd been up since before dawn. I made myself comfortable
-and was awakened by the beeping of the autopilot. The chopper was dropping. "We're there," called Lizard. I straightened up and looked out the window.
We were falling toward a wide grassy pasture. It was overgrown with tall blue-green grass. I could see it waving in the wind. I glanced backward. The follow-choppers were still in formation, coming down with us.