choosing her black, mini taffeta affair which was backless, consequently leaving her without a brassiere. It was really the nicest thing she had left.
She wished he could see her. She looked damned alluring, if she did say so herself. The tiny ebony cameo she wore at the hollow of her throat on a matching black ribbon did remarkable things for the deep valley between her soft, white breasts, but he couldn't know that either. Carol knew that she'd gone all out for him, wearing very little actually — just sheer black bikini panties, a frilly half-slip and the short black dress itself. It was too warm for pantyhose, besides, her legs were tanned enough to give the impression of them… but of course, that too he wouldn't see. All the same, half of any battle was in the knowing you had done your own part… or should she call it 'conquest'? Yes… that was exactly the way it was shaping up, whether she was ready to admit to it or not!
The excited blonde girl couldn't resist haunting the front window to see if he was coming yet. A half-dozen times she went to her bedroom to add finishing touches to her long golden hair and the little makeup she wore. And it was during one of those trips that the buzzer sounded, Sultan whimpering with wagging tail rather than offering his usual deep-throated growl…!
'Before we sit down would you like to familiarize yourself with the surroundings, Mark?' Carol asked, surprised that she could even think straight with the giddiness she immediately felt at the sight of him. God, he was such a strikingly handsome man, the slacks and sport jacket he wore fitting his tall athletic frame to perfection. Even Queenie looked as if she might have been curried for the occasion.
'Why… yes, I'd like that, thanks,' Mark answered, pleased at her thoughtfulness. Few people realized the feelings of a blind person walking into strange settings. He held out the bottle of wine, the sound of her voice as provocative as he remembered. 'The wine,' he said with a smile.
'So, you did remember,' she said, admiring the absolutely perfect knot of his tie and the neat cut of his starched white collar.
'Of course. Didn't you think I would?' he continued to smile.
'Oh… men are sometimes forgetful,' Carol said with a soft lilt to her voice. She took the bottle from him. 'But you don't appear to me to be the type. Now, supposing we unleash Queenie so that she and Sultan can get to know one another and I show you around… and it won't take long, I assure you.'
Mark laughed, bending down to remove his guide dog's harness, 'It's probably a great deal like mine. Most of these older apartments in this area are pretty much alike.'
Carol watched the two animals move across the room with tails wagging and ears erect. She took Mark's hand, the strong warmth of it sending a little tingling impulse through her as it dominantly closed around her small one with a pleasing pressure. 'There are only the three rooms and bath,' she explained, leading him slowly and pointing out the position of objects and their arrangement. 'Every room needs painting, and the furniture is early shabby-atrocious.'
The feel and size of her soft, smooth hand inside his own excitedly transmitted much to Mark. Already, his mind's eye was forming a clearer picture of her, the delicate fragrance of her closeness adding sharply to it. Christ, she had to be lovely… and that made it all the more confusing! What was a young vivacious girl like her doing wasting time with him…?
'And last, but not least, as the cliche goes, this is the bathroom, Mr. Cannon,' she was saying in a sprightly tone. 'The tub and shower to your left, sink on the right, and straight ahead, you know what… So… now that you've taken the guest tour, shall we return to the drawing room and tap the martinis?'
Mark laughed. 'Sounds like a winner, Miss Dorsett… and may I ask where the animals are and what they're up to?'
'Well, they're lying down in the corner side by side and seem to be watching us,' Carol replied, her hand still inside his as she led him back to the living room area, reluctant to break the contact.
'Do you get the feeling we're being chaperoned?' Mark whispered.
'I hadn't thought of it that way,' she whispered back. 'But now that you've mentioned it, we are being observed closely… so behave yourself, sir!'
'I'll do my best, he lied,' Mark joked with a grin and Carol laughed lightly with him.
'Sit here on the couch, Mark,' she invited. 'It's the most comfortable place in the establishment. There's a table with cigarettes and ashtray right beside you, and if you'll excuse me a minute I'll go fetch the goodies.'
The sound of soft music surprised Carol as she prepared the tray and she looked in from the small kitchen to see that Mark had walked to where her little transistor radio sat, had turned it onto a particular station, and was now confidently returning to the couch. The sight of him so tall and straight dominating her living room caused warm sensations to flutter through her belly. It had been so long since she'd enjoyed the company of a man, she'd almost forgotten how exciting just their presence and companionship could be…
'I took the liberty of finding us some listening music,' Mark said, looking directly up at her in such a way that it was difficult for her to believe he couldn't see. 'Are you a music lover?'
'Very much so,' she answered, moving the cocktail table in front of them to set her tray on. 'I usually have the radio playing when I'm around the house, but… I'll be honest with you, Mark Cannon, your coming tonight has had me in a dither all day, and I'm lucky if I've done.'
'My coming…?' he repeated, her admission taking him completely by surprise, but pleasantly so. 'I–I'm afraid you've lost me, Carol… I don't understand. Why should my coming…?'
'Because,' she interrupted, 'you are the first man I've been alone with, dated or entertained since my ex- husband, and that was over a year ago. So… now you know that I'm just a shy girl at heart… and here's your martini,' she said in that voice that set his blood to racing… or was it what she said?
One more item filed itself into his brain, though: she had been married… He felt her weight ease down onto the couch beside him, perhaps a foot away. The beady essence of her perfume filled his nostrils. Christ, just to get one split-second glimpse of her…!
'Now, what shall we drink to… the steaks in the kitchen waiting to be broiled?' Carol suggested. 'May they be ever as tender as the butcher promised me?'
'Steaks? I thought we were having meatloaf…?'
'I felt like splurging,' she said, smiling at his unexpectant expression. 'As I said before, Mr. Cannon, men haven't been frequenting my life… or my apartment… so, I wanted it all just right.'
Mark swallowed tightly, the sound of her voice and what she was saying like some sort of effervescent potion that was making his brain fuzzy. He found his voice. 'In that case… let's drink to us, Carol,' he said, his words almost a deep whisper as he raised his glass.
'All right,' she answered, softly. 'I like that toast, Mark… to us…'
'To us!'
He felt her hand covering his glass then, removing it from his fingers and then catching at his hand. He sensed her weight shifting on the cushions beside him and puzzled, Mark waited as she lifted his hand upward toward her face!
'I have the advantage on you,' she breathed between them. 'I can see you. Would you like to find out what the girl beside you looks like… down to my neck, that is? The rest you'll have to take my word for… and it's 38-26- 37…'
Christ! He just couldn't believe it! This girl was something else, almost anticipating his every wish… and damn, she was lovely… skin like satin, a perfect nose and lush, soft lips…!
Carol held her breath as his sensitively discerning fingers brushed lightly over her face. When he touched her eyes, she told him they were green, and when his warm perceptive fingers danced over her lips she said that her mouth was too large. He laughed, those seeing fingers tracing her cheek-bones downward to her neck, and suddenly examining the little cameo at her throat. She described it to him, and then he was exploring her hair, learning its length and the way she wore it.
'It's sort of an ash-blonde,' she told him, 'maybe dizzy, too.'
'I doubt that,' he answered, the sound of his increased breathing reaching her. 'Y-You're beautiful, Carol! Has anyone ever told you that… besides your husband, I mean?'
'No… not even my ex-husband. He wasn't given to compliments in my direction,' she answered as he slowly, almost reluctantly drew his hand away from her face. She picked up his cocktail then, and gave it back to him. 'Besides, it is an exaggeration, but I love you for saying it, Mark. Now, there're some canapes right in front of you on the table, and a whole pitcher of martinis to be done away with. Shall we…?'
'Willingly… but I'm not finished learning about a girl named Carol Dorsett, right from the day she was born to
