Greg Bear Slant

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sips. "Very nice. You've picked my favorite--Zucker Vineyards, I think."
She cultivates a tone not overly familiar, expectant but relaxed and
unhurried;
as if they have been lovers in the past. To give value will be the saving of
her self-opinion, her sense of honor.
"I don't know much about wine," the man says. His voice is tense, though he
hides it well enough. "Everything I'm served tastes pretty good." He tries to
conceal a nervous breath, making a small hup. "I didn't know whether you were
available.., for private appearances."
She smiles in the direction of his face, which she can barely make out in
outline. Something besides shadow obscures his features, not a mask--some
technological trick, a projected blurring. She puts on her own kind of mask
now, obscuring not features but intent. "I'm always available for kindhearted
strangers," she says. "The question is, how available are you?"
The man's stance stiffens and his hand clutches the fabric covering one hip.
Oops, too foru'ard.
"Not ar all, unfortunately," the man says. She wonders if the room alters his
voice; and whether, in bed, the shape of his body and his mannerisms will be
enhanced by some other wizardry. The artificial stranger...
Actually, to her irritation, she finds this mildly interesting.
"But for this evening," he continues, "I'm yours, completely and absolutely.
At your command . . . A final treat. I've done some good things in this life
and I deserve something in return." He steps to her right and sits beside her.
Despite the following shadow and blur, she senses him inspecting her from this
new angle.
She mimes a little nervousness and looks away, to startle up his protective/
possessive instincts. In these situations she has not been nervous for fifteen
years; she knows exactly what is going on, but that is not sexy to many men.
"I'm honored," she says with a small catch. "This is a little overpowering.
You must be very wealthy."
He ignores that. "I think all men hope for genuine passion in their women,"
he says. "We like to imagine ourselves so handsome and devastating that we
break down the hardest walls.., don't you agree?" His voice seems to smile, so
she smiles in return.
"That seems to be what most men want," she says.
"I won't expect that of you," he says softly.
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But you're paying, so that's what you'll think you're getting, she vows.
"I am a gentle man, really," he says. "I don't get off on physical strength
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80 GREG BEAR
Alice stretches her arms, a little restless. "I hope there's more furniture,"
she says.
"I'm referring to my situation," he says. "I hope you'll enjoy being here.
I'm as concerned for how you feel--who and what you are.., as I am for my own
pleasure. My own feelings."
Now it is Alice's turn to stiffen, though she hides it better. This man,
whoever he is, is of the type dreaded by the sex care trade. He wants to get
under Alice's professional facade and establish a deeper liaison. He wants to
touch her emotions as if she were some lovesick young girl; perhaps that will
be the only way he can get off. In her brief time doing call-ins, she heard
other women talk about these types, yet she never encountered one. He hides,
but he wants to know all about me.
Well, she can mock that, too. "It's always nice when that happens," she says.
She reaches out to touch his arm, puts on a small concerned expression.
"How big is this place? I'd love to see more." She wants to speed the process.
"Certainly," the man says. "I hope you don't mind if I'm curious. I know
that's so common--the client wants to know everything, tells nothing about
himself. But I feel as if I've known you for so long ... from your vids. I
really am a fan, and it would give me no end of pleasure to have you tell me,
you know, what you'd like all of your fans to know, if you had the chance."
Alice broadens her smile. "Of course."
"What I'd really enjoy . . ." he says. "If I can.., ask for such things . . .
is to make love to you, as if we'd just met."
Alice cannot riddle this easily. He sounds unsure of himself, and this at
tempt to insinuate into her affections actually does have an awkward sweetness
that could point to sincerity. Alice knows that the best men are those who
remain boys in some heart-deep place, and keep some genuine naYvet as a kind
of talisman against too much reality.
The calculating, fully adult male, grimly certain of the way of the world,
able to smell advantage and compelled to go for it, can make a selfish and
distasteful partner, even for one evening.
So, what is this male? A good actor, perhaps; as good as she is.
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"What I really need right now," Alice says, "is a bathroom."
"Right," the man says, and jumps from the couch. "Other rooms, other
furniture."
She follows his shaded form into another hall, this one lined with antique
black and white prints, covered with glass. She thinks they might be from
Victorian times; men in stiff dark formal attire, festooned with ribbons and
medals, standing around tables. Other men wearing turbans, fezzes, and robes,
clearly at a disadvantage, are seated by the tables, and on the tables are
pieces of paper and feather pens, and beyond the men and the tables, viewed
through
. ;nA
,,�r�o run of minarets or Eastern domes.
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SLANT 81
silently with each other. The effect disappoints her. Honest immobility is so
unusual in art now.
Wherever he goes, the male is still shrouded by lights and strategic blurs.
This kind of camouflage must be terribly expensive.
They enter a simple but elegant bedroom. The bed is square and flat and the
pillows are arranged at the top, a very traditional sort of bed. The bedcover
is a white embroidered down comforter. The floor is polished wood, spotlessly
clean of course.
No windows.
"The bathroom is over there," the man says. Alice follows his finger toward a
door barely visible against the velvety grayness of a far wall. The door opens
as she approaches and a light shines brightly within, white marble and gold
fixtures, dazzling her eyes. She turns within the room to catch a glimpse of
this uncontrolled light shining on the man, but he has his back to her, and
the illumination does not seem to reach him anyway.
The toilet is simple and elegant, gracefully curved like an upside down [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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