on,' she whispered to him, 'come on now.' He started to move, and the motion wasn't smooth, had a hitch in it, went sideways a bit. She slipped one of her hands down so that her fingers pressed against him as he went in and out. 'Please,' he breathed in surprise, 'keep doing that.' She could feel the sweat come to his skin, his breathing quicken. 'Come on now,' she told him. 'I want you to.'
He pressed into her more rapidly, and she could feel the broken motion of him, it must have been hurting terribly, because of the sweat, he was laboring against some kind of pain, but she had faith in him, and she let her hands travel up his knotty back until they were around his neck, and she lifted her head up to his and looked into his wide-open eyes, knowable as blue even in the dark, and thrust her tongue into his mouth as deeply as she could, because she did love him, she loved him right now, she would never know him, but she understood now what kind of man he was and she loved him for it, for you can tell so much about a person quickly if you let yourself, and she just pressed her tongue into him to tell him she loved him and that she understood a part of his being a prisoner, for of course that was what she had been, and they felt this sadness in each other, she was sure, and she wanted to give herself to him and help him to go past the pain, the wetness flowing out of her now everywhere, urging him to press, to push as hard as he wished, and now he seemed to understand that she would take whatever was necessary for him to get it done, and so she pulled at him and begged him to go as hard as he could and promised him and kissed him and then he went fast and hard, and suddenly she felt the crazy feeling come into her head, the tension rise inside her, rise on up and shake her as he pounded her in his pain. She clenched breathlessly and fell backward, flooded with release, at the same time feeling the quickening in him, the sweat coming off his ribs and knotted back, his body shaking with razor agony, and then he cried out in wretched urgency and thrust deeply into her and shook, his head back, eyes shut, teeth bared, absolutely still-frozen, rigid, hard. And then in the dark he tipped his head back down toward her, exhaled, and opened his eyes. She saw exactly what he had so carefully hidden from her and from everyone else for so long-she saw that this man had once been a killer.
They lay under the sheets for almost an hour. He said very little, and she worried that he was silent out of disappointment or remorse. She took his hand and kissed it, and he cupped one of his hands behind her neck and pulled her close to him. She licked at his nipple, bit it softly. Then he said, 'I think you brought me back to life here.'
She was quite pleased by this but said, 'You were plenty alive, believe me.'
He glanced at the clock. 'I could lie here for three days, Melissa.'
'Do you have to leave?'
'I have a long day and then a trip on Thursday.'
'China?'
'Yes. I'm going to try to fix that factory problem.'
'Don't you have earnest young vice-presidents to do that for you?'
He let out a gravelly sigh, as if this was not the first time he'd been asked the question. 'Sure. But then they know about the problem, which means the whole world also knows.'
'Can I see you when you get back?'
'Yes.' He sat up and dropped his feet to the floor. 'I think that's definitive.'
She pressed herself against his warm back. The sex had been pretty okay for the first time, but this wasn't just going to be about sex, she could see. More complicated than that. He made her feel safe, that was the thing. She'd have to tell him her real name, but later, after he cared for her enough. When she was ready. And maybe he can help me, Christina thought.
While he showered, she looked through his coat pockets, not to steal but to find something, anything, that told her more about him. I can't help it, she thought. A pen, a paper clip, a piece of Hong Kong currency. Then her fingers found the folded paper he'd been reading in the hotel bar. She listened to the shower run and clicked on a light next to the bed. Industry group: Telecommunications
Sub-industry category: Telecom component manufacturing
Company: Teknetrix
THE FOLLOWING STATEMENT IS A CONFIDENTIAL ANALYSIS PREPARED EXCLUSIVELY FOR MARVIN NOFF'S WEB SITE SUBSCRIBERS. PLEASE CALL OUR HOTLINE FOR DAILY UPDATES.
A hostile takeover bid by MT of Teknetrix seems inevitable. The companies make virtually the same components, except that Teknetrix's quality is much higher: Signal clarity, component speed, and burn-through are significantly superior in their product line. But the telecom supplier industry has been forced toward cheaper components as manufacturers struggle to squeeze costs wherever they can. In this sense MT would be buying Teknetrix's brand loyalty and distribution networks as much as its manufacturing capacity. Teknetrix is rumored to have a new microprocessor, the Q4, in very rapid development, but the company is also said to be behind in the construction of its new factory in China. Management is perceived to be lean but too entrenched. The guesswork here is that the Teknetrix board, which doesn't own much stock, can be forced by shareholder pressure into a sale and that MT can digest Teknetrix within the next eighteen months, increasing both its market share and stock price considerably. Recommendation: Sell Teknetrix, accumulate MT.
She didn't know what it meant exactly, just that it was not good. Maybe this accounted for his gloominess earlier. She heard him turn off the shower, and she slipped the paper back.
When he came out of the bathroom, she helped dress him. Usually men acted triumphant after having sex with you for the first time. But he seemed moody again, and asked her if she minded if they left the hotel separately, just out of deference to the chance that he might run into someone he knew.
She pretended not to be bothered. 'That's fine, Charlie.'
He pulled on his suit jacket, tossed the room key onto the dresser.
'I want to see you when you get back,' she said.
He nodded. 'Six or seven days. Maybe sooner.'
'You mind if I check with your office?' she asked, realizing that he couldn't call her.
'You can, but my secretary won't tell you when I'm returning.'
'Can you tell her to tell me?'
He knotted his tie. 'I can, but she'll find that unusual.'
'I might be a little hard to reach. That's why I'm asking.'
He considered this. 'You never gave me a phone number.'
'No,' she admitted.
'I could just call you when I get back,' he said.
'Maybe it's better if I call you.'
He stared at her but didn't say anything. He's too smart to ask why, she thought.
'Call my office in five days,' said Charlie, 'and tell my secretary, whose name is Karen, your name. I'll leave a particular message just for you.'
'Okay,' she answered.
'Okay-just okay, or okay-good?'
'Okay-good.' She hugged him. He made her feel safe, he really did.
After he left, she went to the window and wondered if she might see him outside. It would take a few minutes to get downstairs, and she waited until finally a tall figure that looked like Charlie crossed the street carefully, perhaps with pensiveness, and limped into the shadows under the trees. I kind of love him already, she thought, but I'm not going to let myself do that. She got up and walked to the bathroom and washed her face and reapplied her lipstick and put all of the soaps and shampoos and other miniature toiletries into her bag. She looked in the minibar and took a couple of the airplane bottles. Then she took the rest of them, plus a candy bar and a jar of cashews. She opened a whiskey and finished it in three swallows. Wow, she said. Then she brushed her hair again and sighed aloud and said okay into the mirror, trying to convince herself that she was ready to leave, that everything was fine. Why wouldn't it be?
No one bothered her on the way out, no one looked at her as if she was a hooker or something. The doorman in the gray top hat and white gloves just nodded and asked if she needed a cab and she said yes, feeling a little dreamy. This was the way money worked. If there's money, people open the door for you. The cab pulled up. So, okay, it was an older-man thing. Fine. It wasn't going to be about sex, not really, but she'd been turned on, actually.
