She pulled her hand away. "That's the worst part," she explained, discouraged. "I am in the mood. But only in my head. My body doesn't feel anything."

"So you are in pain." I knew it.

"Yes," she admitted hesitantly. "But it's really not that bad." She looked at me. "You have to believe me. I really do want you."

When she looked at me that way, I would've believed anything she said!

"I believe you," I said honestly. "But that's why you shouldn't put on a show for me. We'll just have to wait."

"But you don't have to wait." She caressed the skin under my shirt again. "Not on my account." Her hand wandered over to my breast. It was as if I had been struck by lightning. I moaned involuntarily. "You won't notice any difference," she a.s.sured me.

That brought me back to my senses. I grew angry. But she couldn't help it. She just wanted to do something nice for me. I controlled myself.

I laid my hands on her shoulders and held her at a distance. "Yes, I know," I said. "You're a professional."

She looked at me with dismay.

"I don't mean that in a bad way," I pacified her. "I know that you have enough experience and skill to bring me incredible pleasure, even when you don't get anything from it yourself."

"I'd love to," she said earnestly.

I smiled at her. "Yes. But for me, it takes two." I gazed at her understandingly. "I'll wait."

"You told me how much you desired me. And I felt it." She hung her head. "I wanted you to -".

"I know," I interrupted her. "But I'll wait anyway." I laughed good-naturedly. "It'll be good practice for me!"

She got mad. "But I want you, too! It's just that this body won't let me!" She punched herself in the thigh. Immediately, she yelped in pain. She wanted to hit herself again.

I held her arm. "Stop it! What are you doing?"

She looked at me with blazing eyes. "How long do you want to wait? Perhaps I'll never be able to feel anything again!"

I held onto her arm. What was making her so angry? This was a completely natural reaction.

She tried to pull free. "It's her fault!" She screamed angrily, "It's all her fault!"

I was too surprised to think quickly enough. "Who?" I asked automatically.

"Her!" she hissed with all the rage in her being. "You saw her yourself!"

I was too upset to be ashamed at our last uncomfortable encounter. That would come later. "She?" I asked, horrified. "She did this to you?"

She laughed bitterly. "Not alone, of course. She knew she'd never be able to do it alone." Now I couldn't hold her back anymore. It streamed out of her like a swamp of bile and vitriol. "She came that evening, unannounced again. I was actually already done for the day." She sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. "Heaven knows why I even opened the door." She looked over at me. "I have a client who sometimes comes at that time. Maybe I thought it was her." She looked out across her knees again. "At first, they tried to talk me into it. A special threesome - very special. I declined. Then they got more direct. They threatened me. But in my experience, there's usually nothing behind that kind of threat. I'm too tall. That scares most of them away. So at first, I didn't take it seriously. But suddenly, one of them had handcuffs in her hand. The other one held me down, and at that point there was nothing I could do."

She had to take a break. She was obviously reliving it all. She laid her head on her knees and spoke into her lap. "They did everything with me that I wouldn't do for her the last time. They beat me, they raped me." Her voice got softer and softer, until at the end it disappeared completely.

I was completely paralyzed. I'd seen her, I'd seen how she looked. But to hear it from her now and imagine this huge woman in leather before me, hitting her... And the rape? Could that be the reason why she was completely numb now? That's why she was so angry!

I sat up and took her crumpled body in my arms. I cautiously began to rock her gently. Her body shook. I swayed with her back and forth, back and forth, like a pendulum. Slowly, the shaking got stronger. I couldn't do anything but hold her.

Suddenly, she screamed. Then she whispered painfully, "It hurt so much. It hurt so horribly much!"

I rocked her again. All at once, I felt her tears. She was crying - finally! I let her cry until nothing more would come. She was totally worn out. I lay down on the ground with her and let the warm forest floor do the rest. She fell asleep, completely exhausted.

After an hour, it got too cold to stay on the ground. I woke her carefully. It took her a moment to get her bearings. Disoriented, she looked around and then at me. Then she remembered everything. She sat up higher and leaned against the tree, away from me.

"What did I tell you?" She seemed very protective again. I couldn't blame her. She was afraid.

"Everything," I said quietly.

She covered her face with her hands. "No, not that!" she groaned, horrified.

I stood up and crouched down next to her. Then I took her wrists and pulled them gently away. She hung her head. I kissed her left wrist. The marks were still readily visible. The handcuffs had cut into her so deeply, even the best makeup couldn't disguise her wounds. They hadn't just handcuffed her. They must have tied her to something as well. I felt her agony almost physically. It wouldn't have taken much more for me to moan aloud myself.

I pulled myself together. They hadn't, after all, hit me - I didn't even want to think about the rest - she had had to live through it.

I kissed the other wrist and then the palm of her hand. "Come." I tried to encourage her gently with the tone of my voice. "I'll take you home."

She didn't look up. She held her head low against her chest. I laid down next to her and looked up from below. I saw what she was thinking. "No!" I insisted, dismayed. "You're not ashamed, are you?"

"I never should have told you about it," she mumbled gloomily.

I kneeled next to her. "But it's not your fault!" I bent over and took her in my arms. She let me, but it felt like she was a limp, lifeless doll.

"It's not your fault," I repeated. "You shouldn't be ashamed of what they did to you." How could she ever come to that conclusion?

She still didn't look up. "I am what I am," she whispered self-tormentingly. "With someone else, it wouldn't even have occurred to them to do this."

"I have to doubt that," I countered energetically. This self-defeating, self-deprecating att.i.tude had to come to an end somewhere! "If they had something like that in mind, they would've found a victim anywhere. You or someone else."

She wouldn't let herself be convinced that easily. Her self-esteem was too low. "That's what I'm there for." She was summoning her arguing skills.

"That's not what you're there for!" I stood up and yanked her up with me. She cried out in pain. "I'm sorry," I apologized, "but you have to finally wake up." She looked at me, distraught. Her eyes were still swollen from crying.

"What you told me was absolutely awful, but you are not responsible for it!" I had spoken with great emphasis, but she stood there as if she hadn't heard me at all. I shook her. She moaned again from pain. I couldn't stand much more of this! I felt it right down to my core. "Do you hear me?" I shouted loud and clear. "It wasn't you. They did it!"

"They did it," she repeated obediently, like a school child. It still sounded like it didn't have anything to do with her personally.

"Yes," I sighed, slightly relieved nonetheless. I took her in my arms again. "Not you. It was them."

"Them," she echoed again, tonelessly. She laid her head on my shoulder. Soon, I felt her tears again. At least she'd gotten that far - she was able to cry again.

I let her rest a little, and then said softly, "Come on, let's go."

Her apathy continued all the way back to the apartment. I sat her in the kitchen and convinced her to eat something. Then I made coffee, and we went into the little salon. She looked exhausted again, but she didn't want to sleep. Probably, she was afraid of nightmares, now that everything was so fresh in her memory again. We sat and drank our coffee in silence.

"Don't you have to go back to work?" she asked suddenly. Did she want to get rid of me?

"I had this week free anyway," I replied readily. I watched for her reaction. There wasn't any. "If I need to stay here next week, I can call."

"You don't need to stay here." She answered with an expressionless voice, as if none of this affected her at all.

"I'll stay until you're completely healthy." I had already made that decision. Then she could do whatever she wanted!

"I am healthy," she claimed, still without expression.

"I don't believe that." It wasn't easy to make her happy, and it seemed just as difficult to argue with her stubbornness. But I could be stubborn, too! We'd see who was better!

"The doctor said -" she began.

I finished her sentence. "The doctor said you should take it easy for another week." If this was taking it easy, this battle with her tormenting memories, I didn't want to see what making an effort looked like!

She sat there in her armchair and looked horribly alone. She didn't answer me; she probably considered it pointless. I went over to her. I crouched next to her and laid my hands on her knee. I looked at her face, which stared blankly and emotionlessly ahead.

"You're sweet." It was just a simple statement. Another argument seemed unlikely to get anywhere with her at this point. "Did you know that?"

Her gaze moved to me, somewhat uncomprehending. She hadn't expected that.

"Can't you imagine," I explained, "that I enjoy doing this for you?"

She couldn't. I could see that clearly. I tried to hold her attention with my voice. "You are the most lovable woman I've ever met. You make me feel so good inside, I don't know how I'll ever be able to return the favor." While I spoke to her, I observed her face. It relaxed a little, but the uncomprehending look remained. "I love you and I desire you in a way I've never experienced before in my life."

Aha! Now she'd found a clue. She grabbed onto it, though she didn't yet quite understand it, "But you don't want to sleep with me as long as I don't feel anything." She looked at me honestly. This terrain was familiar to her. "Although you desire me."

It was apparent from her facial expression that my willing restraint was still incomprehensible to her. And also that she thought of this as sufficient grounds for me to leave her.

"Is that so important to you?" How could I let her see the situation through my eyes, to make this self-explanatory to her?

"But if you can't sleep with me...," she objected uncertainly.

I had to smile. She was so used to this, she couldn't imagine it any other way. "What's left then?" I asked with intentional simplicity.

The consequences were absolute in her mind. "Well, then you can't..."

"Then I can't love you either?" I said it for her. "Do you think that my love for you depends on the availability of your body?"

"Yes, of course." She was convinced of that. It came out as though it had been fired from a pistol. She'd hardly said it when her professional conscience took over. "Didn't you enjoy sleeping with me?" She was truly irresistible when she looked remorseful like that! I had to gulp. "Have I -?" she added.

"No, you haven't done anything wrong." Defeated, I sighed. By now, I could follow her train of thought in this area perfectly. But there must be some way to convince her. "I like to sleep with you a lot." What kind of question was that? "Why shouldn't I? It's wonderful, sleeping with you. It's new and different every time."

"I have a great deal of experience," she pointed out darkly.

"Yes," I agreed. If she really wanted to go there..., "you do." I decided to persist along these lines. I laughed in mild embarra.s.sment when something occurred to me. "I was so jealous, I never thought to guess how many women you've already had. I imagine the number is in the hundreds."

"Hundreds." Her voice made that sound criminal.

I looked at her and took her face in my hands. Now she would have to look at me. I entreated her forcibly. "And that's exactly it. I've never felt like the hundredth, rather always like the first."

When she'd switched over to professional mode, it wasn't easy to get her back out of it. "Then I must have been very good," she persisted pa.s.sionlessly.

"To argue with that would doubtlessly be a shameless lie," I testified cheerfully. More cheerfully than I actually felt. "Despite that." I couldn't leave it there. "Or perhaps because of it. I didn't just feel like the first, I felt like the only one." I looked in her eyes earnestly again. "I felt like the woman you love."

That was a hard blow for her. She had convinced herself that she could hide all of her true feelings behind the facade of her experience. Now they were out. Right in the spotlight.

I repeated myself. "You slept with me like with a woman you love."

"No." She denied it automatically, but it didn't quite work. "I -".

I provoked her even more. "Say it," I dared her. "Say that you don't love me. If you can't say the opposite, then that must be easy for you."

I let her go. I didn't want to force her into anything else. She knew that too well. But she was going to have to decide for herself how she felt about me. Only then could she understand that I felt at least as much for her and was prepared to put her needs ahead of my wishes.

She looked at me mutely. Her eyes looked desperate. She was incapable of expressing what she felt, but she would've loved to do it. She said more with her silence than I would ever have thought possible.

"I can't," she explained after a long while.

I smiled and laid my head in her lap. "I love you too," I said happily.

I sat like that for awhile without thinking about anything else. All of a sudden, I felt something touching my hair. She was caressing me. It was a hesitant caress, as if she'd never done it before. Perhaps that was so. I was almost positive that it had been years since she'd caressed a woman without erotic intentions. It had to be a strange feeling for her. I enjoyed it. I didn't feel one bit unerotic. Just the opposite. But that was now my problem.

She stroked my back with her hands, down to my waist. My skin tingled like crazy, but I tried to stay still. Making great speeches and then not holding oneself to them - I wasn't going to make that mistake!

She left her hands where they were and leaned over my back with her torso. So she stayed, without moving. I felt her, I felt her everywhere, right down to the tips of my toes. It was almost unbearable. But I remembered what she had had to bear and calmed myself a little. Then it began again. I wondered if I had perhaps promised more than I could deliver. I hadn't imagined it would be this difficult.

She was breathing quietly. There was definitely no erotic intention in her movements. Even if she hadn't said so, she'd obviously believed me. Now it was up to me to protect her newly gained trust. I took a deep breath. It wasn't enough. As much as I'd enjoyed lying in her lap again, I couldn't handle it. I pulled away slowly and sat beside her. She sat up.

"I'm sorry." This time, I was the remorseful one. "I couldn't breathe anymore."

She smiled and caressed my face, again completely unerotically. Then she leaned over and kissed me softly on the lips, again without erotic intentions - at least from her point of view!

"That was very nice," she remarked dreamily.

I stood up and shook out my legs. "They fell asleep!" I said, laughing. That was in fact true, but I knew very well that I was tingling for other reasons as well.

I stretched my arms in the air, trying to get them back to functioning. "I think I'll go to bed," I yawned. Self-control was really strenuous! I admired her abilities even more.

She stood up as well and stretched carefully. Her muscles would surely still be causing her some discomfort. She winced a little. "Don't you want to sleep with me?" she asked innocently. "The bed is more comfortable than the chaise lounge."

"No doubt." She could be quite a temptress. "But please excuse me." She couldn't possibly expect that of me! "It's difficult enough to resist you. Lying next to you in bed would exceed my capacity, I'm afraid. And I really want to keep my promises."

"Oh," she said, "I didn't even think of that." She looked truly innocent.

"Yep." I went over and put my arm around her. That at least was relatively safe.

"And perhaps you also forgot that you're an incredibly attractive woman?" I looked at her inquisitively.

She avoided my eyes, as if to confirm my statement. I laughed involuntarily. Most beautiful women were so occupied by their beauty that they'd never forget about it for a moment, and she? She was definitely a wonder.