Woman (14 page)

     "I'll talk with you for
a little while," he said, realizing that intimidation was as much
motivated in him as a genuine desire to help her. "Then I'll
have
to send you to the therapist I
mentioned. I just don't practice anymore."

     She looked displeased, which
made him feel uncomfortable again. "You do on the radio," she said.

     His smile was pained.
"That's different, Ganine," he said. "Very brief analyses for
many people. Nothing in depth."

     "I know you can help
me," she insisted.

     He hesitated, then drew in a
deep, sighing breath. "All right," he said. "Let's see what we
can do."

     Her smile was one of a
childlike joy. Already, he felt that this attempt to help her was, very likely,
going to prove fruitless.

     He gestured toward the sofa
and she moved to sit down quickly, an eager look on her face. Oh, God, I hope
this isn't a terrible mistake, David thought. What made him think he could help
her? And was he doing it entirely because of how she'd healed his ankle?

     He sat on a chair across
from her suddenly aware that he was still in his pajamas. He knew he should
dress first but he didn't want to delay the—what?
Treatment?
The notion displeased him.

     "Aren't you going to
sit next to me?" Ganine asked. The observation was unavoidable; her tone
and smile were definitely suggestive.

     "It isn't done that
way, Ganine," he told her. She gazed at him entreatingly, then—he saw her
facial change—accepted what he'd said.

     "All right, what is it
that's bothering you?" he asked.

     "There's something. .
."

     She didn't finish, looking
uncertain.

     "Yes?" he asked.

     "Something. . ."
She drew in a shuddering breath—
"drawing
at
me, filling
me," she finished.

     "Physically?" he
asked. "Or psychologically?"

     "I don't know what that
means," she told him.

     "How would
you
describe it then?" he asked.

     "It's. . .something. .
.inside me.
Way
inside
me."

     "How does it express
itself?" he asked.

     He saw that she didn't
understand that question either. "I mean. . .how does it make you
feel?"

     "Not real," she
said immediately. "As if. . .as if. . .I'm not
me
anymore."

     "You feel like someone
else?"

     Ganine stared at him in
silence.

     "Never mind that
question," he said. "I don't really understand what you've said. What
exactly do you mean, you're not
you
anymore." Possession? he thought. Multiple personality?

     "I just don't feel like
me
anymore," she said. "There's
something
inside
me.
Something
strong.
Something I
don'tlike."

     "Do you. . .feel that
this something is what gives you a kind of
—power!"
David asked.

     "I don't know."
she murmured. She looked on the verge of tears.

     "Okay, okay, let that
go," David told her. "We can—"

     "There's something
else," she said. She looked suddenly embarrassed. David thought that she
was about to complete her statement. Then, visibly bracing herself, she said,
"My period stopped two months ago."

     Oh, God, David thought. Was
that what this was all about? An unwanted pregnancy? "I'm really not
equipped to—" he began.

     She broke in, her tone
distressed and—he could not interpret it in any other way—
angry.
"I haven't let anyone touch me
in almost three years," she said.

     David didn't know how to
respond to that. After several moments of non-plused silence, he said,
"Have you been to a family doctor?"

     "I don't
have
one," she told him, looking
pained.

     "Have you been to
any
doctor?" he asked.

     "
No
," she said. "But I'm going
to have a baby. I know it."

     Oh, boy, he thought, now a
false pregnancy. What more can she have to tell him?

     "But I
can't
be having a baby," Ganine said
in a frightened voice. "I know that too."

     David was uncertain as to
whether he should broach the subject or not. Then he had to accept the fact
that there was nothing else he
could
say. "You
are
aware," he told her, "that there are various
psychological conditions which create apparent pregnancy."

     
"That's
not what it is,"
she said, almost angrily.

     David blew out breath. Now
what? he thought.

     He tensed in surprise as
Ganine began to cry, beginning with a broken sob.

     "I'm not a bad
girl," she insisted. "I didn't do anything. I swear I didn't."

     "Okay. I believe
you," David reassured her.

     It didn't seem to help. Her
crying increased. She sounded heartbroken. David frowned, wondering what to do.

     Finally, he rose from the
chair and moved to the sofa, sitting next to her. He patted her back, trying to
comfort her. "It's all right," he said, gently. "You don't have
to cry."

     He stiffened, teeth,
suddenly on edge, as she pressed against him, clinging to his arm. "I'm
not bad," she said in a wavering voice. "I'm
not."

     "No, of course you're
not," he told her. "You're just—"

     His voice choked off as
Ganine pressed against him more tightly, sliding her arms around him like a
frightened child. He was aware, in an instant, of her body against his,the fact
that he was wearing only pajamas and—it seemed an absurd observation—that the
music on the radio was Tchaikowsky's
Romeo and Juliet.

     "It's okay,
Ganine," he heard himself say; it sounded like the voice of someone else.
His arms, to his alarmed surprise, had slipped around her body. This is crazy,
he thought. He tried to draw his arms away but found himself unable to do it.
Oh, now
stop
this, he heard a
warning voice in his head.

     He couldn't get his arms
away. To his distress—it almost felt like fear now—his arms were tightening
around Ganine. No, this is wrong, it's
crazy,
the voice in his head insisted. But he couldn't stop himself.
"It's okay," the voice—was it
his!
He wondered apprehensively—kept saying it over and over.
"It's okay, Ganine. Okay."

     Her sobbing was gradually
stilling. He became uncomfortably aware that she was starting to breathe more
heavily, moving —was it
writhing!—
against him. David tried—it was struggle, he realized with chilled
alarm—to draw away from her but simply couldn't. He became intensely aware of
how thin his cotton pajama bottoms were and what was happening involuntarily to
his lower body.

     "Ganine,
no,"
he said, stunned by the
weakness of his voice. He tried, in vain, to disengage himself from her, aware
in dismay, as he did, that his effort was ineffective, almost futile. What
is
this? he thought, his brain in near
panic now.

     The music—was it an accident?
Disturbing coincidence?—kept rising in volume, sounding more passionate by the
moment. It was not imagination, he was distressingly aware that Ganine was
clinging to him, writhing more and more, her small breasts rubbing against his
chest. This is
insanity!
his
brain cried out.

     The warning was in vain. The
music was nearing its peak. Her arms were holding him; they felt incredibly
strong. His arms kept tightening; against his will, he knew. He couldn't pull
away from her. But whether the rise ofphysical demand was causing it—or
something more deeply menacing—he had no way of knowing.

     All he was intensely aware
of was her tear-streaked face tilting back to gaze at him, her expression one
of—no matter how he sought to deny the realization—desire. No, this is
impossible!
the voice protested
furiously.

     Without success. His
breathing, now like hers, was obviously straining. Her eyes were blue, he saw.
He hadn't noticed it before. They were attractive eyes, compelling eyes. If
only—

     The transition came so
suddenly, it made his heartbeat lurch. Abruptly, with a feeble moan of
surrender, he lowered his face to hers.

     Her lips were soft,
available. Her clutching arms were not soft. This is crazy! the voice kept
insisting in his mind. Even as his lips pressed hard against hers, even as he
accepted the parting of those lips, the moist warmth of her tongue darting into
his mouth. Oh, God, this is
insane!
he thought—with no ability to end the kiss, his arms embracing her
rigidly, aware of the uncontrollable stirring in his loins.

     It was Ganine, not him, who
jerked away with sudden force and, strangely it occurred to him, it was as
though resolve returned to him. She pressed her cheek to his, her murmuring
impassioned. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

     The mechanical repetition of
the words completed the piercing of whatever clouding of his will he believed
had taken place. He pulled away from her.

     "No, that's
impossible," he said, startled by the husky sound of his voice.

     "It's
not,"
she said, reaching for him.
"I love you, David."

     "
No
, Ganine." He put his hands on her
shoulders and held her away. "You have to understand. This is
impossible."

     "If I let you have my
body, will you help me?" she asked eagerly.

     The total madness of her
words drove him further from her. "Ganine, this has got to stop," he
said.
"Right now."

     "You
kissed
me," she said. "I know
you want my body. I
know
it."

     
"No,
I don't."
He looked at her severely. "This is
all a mistake."