Shibumi

hand.

The object of the game was to cause climax before climaxing yourself, and it was best played while it was raining.

In time, he abandoned kikashi sex as being somewhat too demanding, and also because it was a lonely and selfish experience, lacking the affection and caressing of afterplay that decorates the best of lovemaking.

* * *

Hana's eyes were squeezed shut with effort, and her lips were stretched over her teeth. She tried to escape from the involute position in which he held her, but he would not release her.

'I thought we agreed that you weren't permitted to do that!' she pled.

'I didn't agree to anything.'

'Oh, Nikko... I can't!... I can't hold on! Damn you!'

She arched her back and emitted a squeak of final effort to avoid climaxing.

Her delight infected Hel, who relinquished his control to allow himself to climax just after she did. Then suddenly his proximity sense sounded the alarm. She was faking! Her aura was not dancing, as it would at climax. He tried to void his mind and arrest his climax, but it was too late. He had broken over the rim of control.

'You devil!' he shouted as he came.

She was laughing as she climaxed a few seconds later.

* * *

She lay on her stomach, humming sleepily in appreciation as he slowly inched the razor over her buttock, a perfect object blending the fineness of her Japanese blood with the useful shape of her Black. He kissed it gently and continued the Delight.

'In two months your tenure with me is over, Hana.'

'Hmm-hmm.' She did not want to break her languor by speaking.

'Have you considered my suggestion that you stay on with me?'

'Hmm-hmm.'

'And?'

'Unh-nh-nh-nh-nh.' The prolonged sound through slack lips meant, 'Don't make me talk.'

He chuckled and turned her over onto her back, continuing the thrill massage with close attention to technique and detail. Hana was in a perfect state. She was in her midthirties, the youngest a woman can be and still possess the training and experience of a grand lover. Because of the excellent care she took of her body and because of the time-annihilating effects of her ideal blend of Oriental, Black, and Caucasian strains, she would be in her prime for another fifteen years. She was a delight to look at, and to work on. Her greatest quality lay in her ability to receive pleasure completely and graciously.

When the Delight of the Razor had closed to her centers and had rendered her moist and passive, he concluded the event with its classic quick finish. And for a time they lay together in that comfortable lover's twine that knows how to deal with the extra arm.

'I have thought about staying on, Nikko,' she said, her voice buzzing against his chest. 'There are many reasons that might prompt me to do so. This is the most beautiful spot in the world. I shall always be grateful to you for showing me this corner of the Basque country. And certainly you have constructed a life of shibumi luxury here that is attractive. And there is you, so quiet and stern when you deal with the outside world, so boyish in lovemaking. You are not without a certain charm.'

'Thank you.'

'And I must also confess that it is much rarer to find a well-trained man than an accomplished woman. But... it is lonely here. I know that I am free to go to Bayonne or Paris whenever I wish—and I have a good time when I do go—but day to day, despite your attention and the delights of your conversation, and despite the bawdy energy of our friend Le Cagot, it is lonely for a woman whose interests and appetites have been so closely honed as mine have been.'

'I understand that.'

'It is different for you, Nikko. You are a recluse by nature. You despise the outside world, and you don't need it. I too find that most of the people out there either bore or annoy me. But I am not a recluse by nature, and I have a vivid curiosity. Then too... there is another problem.'

'Yes?'

'Well, how shall I put this? Personalities such as yours and mine are meant to dominate. Each of us should function in a large society, giving flavor and texture to the mass. The two of us together in one place is like a wasteful concentration of spice in the course of an otherwise bland meal. Do you see what I mean?'

'Does that mean that you have decided to leave when your tenure is up?'

She blew a jet of breath over the hairs of his chest. 'It means that I have not yet made up my mind.' She was silent for a time, then she said, 'I suppose I would really prefer to have the best of both worlds, spending half of every year here, resting and learning with you, and half of each year out there, stunning my audience.'

'I see nothing wrong with that.'

She laughed, 'It would mean that you would have to make do for six months each year with the bronzed, long-legged, mindless nymphs of the Cote Basque. Actresses and models and that sort. Could you do that?'

'As easily as you could make do with round-armed lads possessing excellent muscle tone and honest, empty eyes. For both of us, it would be like subsisting on hors d'oeuvres. But why not? There is some amusement in hors d'oeuvres, though they cloy without nourishing.'

'Let me think about it, Nikko. It is an attractive idea.' She raised herself onto one elbow and looked down into his half-closed, amused eyes. 'Then too, freedom is also attractive. Maybe I won't make any decision at all.'

'That's a kind of decision.'

They dressed and went to shower beneath the perforated copper cask designed for the purpose by the first enlightened owner of the chateau nearly three hundred years before.

It was not until they were taking tea in the cream-and-gold east salon that Hel asked about the visitor.

'She is still asleep. When she arrived yesterday evening, she was desperate. She had walked from the village after flying in to Pau from Rome and hitchhiking to Tardets. Although she tried to chat and follow the forms of politeness, I could tell from the first that she was very distraught. She began weeping while she was taking tea. Weeping without knowing she was doing it. I gave her something to calm her and put her to bed. But she awoke during the night with nightmares, and I sat on the edge of her bed, stroking her hair and humming to her, until she was calm and dropped off again.'

'What is her problem?'

'She talked about it while I stroked her hair. There was a nasty business at the airport in Rome. Two of her friends were shot and killed.'

'Shot by whom?'

'She didn't say. Perhaps she didn't know.'

'Why were they shot?'

'I have no idea.'

'Did she tell you why she came to our home?'

'Evidently all three of them were on their way here. She had no money, only her plane ticket.'

'Did she give you her name?'

'Yes. Hannah Stern. She said her uncle was a friend of yours.'

Hel set his cup down, closed his eyes, and pushed out a long nasal sigh. 'Asa Stern was a friend. He's dead. I am indebted to him. There was a moment when, without his help, I would have died.'

'And this indebtedness, does it extend to the girl as well?'

'We'll see. Did you say the blow-away in Rome International happened yesterday afternoon?'

'Or morning. I am not sure which.'

'Then it should be on the news at noon. When the girl wakes up, please have her come and see me. I'll be in the garden. Oh, and I think Le Cagot will take dinner with us—if he finishes his business in Larrau in time.'

Hel worked in the garden for an hour and a half, trimming, controlling, striving for modest and subtle effects. He was not an artist, but he was sensitive; so while his garden, the major statement of his impulse to create,