“I’m here,” he replied. “Always.”
“This is what you want?” she said.
“Of course it is. Of course,” he replied, and put his hand on her sex.
This time the iridescence, when it came, was almost bright, and fixed in his head the image of her crotch, his fingers sliding over and between her labia. As the light went, leaving its afterglow on his blind eyes, he was vaguely distracted by a ringing sound, far off at first but closer with every repetition. The telephone, damn it! He did his best to ignore it, failed, and reached out to the bedside table where it sat, throwing the receiver off its cradle and returning to her in one graceless motion. The body beneath him was once again perfectly still. He climbed on top of her and slid inside. It was like being sheathed in silk. She put her hands up around his neck, her fingers strong, and raised her head a little way off the bed to meet his kisses. Though their mouths were clamped together he could hear her saying his name—“Gentle? Gentle?”—with that same questioning tone she’d had before. He didn’t let memory divert him from his present pleasure, but found his rhythm: long