9

Shelly was dreaming that she was asleep inside the bank vault, resting on a bed stuffed with thousand dollar bills, but outside the vault someone was knocking, someone was knocking very insistently and trying to pry her awake.

She jumped into a sitting position, clutched the sheets to her throat.

Not a dream?

Not all of it anyway, someone was outside knocking, but who?

Couldn’t be Grossman, he couldn’t be sex-starved enough to have waited all this time only to break his chastity pact with one night left to go. Besides, she thought, the klutz seemed almost proud of holding out so long.

And surely not Jon, the poor kid had been so sheepish and guilt-ridden the other night after his “big adventure” with her, that was out of the question.

Should she be frightened? She shrugged to herself and got out of bed, switching on the lamp next to it. She threw her short terry-cloth robe around her naked body and went to the door. Hell, if it was a rapist out there it ought at least to shape up her sex life a little bit. And as urgent as the knocking sounded, the guy needed it bad.

“Who’s out there?”

“Nolan.”

She cracked the door and looked out over the chain on the night latch. It was Nolan, all right.

“What do you want? Kind of late for a last minute briefing, isn’t it, chief?”

“You know what I want.”

“Huh?”

“The moves under the table. That beats an engraved invitation all to hell.”

“Well, I’d like to let you in . . .”

“Then do.”

She shrugged again and undid the nightlatch and let him in. Once in he shut the door, threw the Yale lock and put the latch back in place.

“Okay,” he said, “let’s go to bed.”

She smiled. “That’s some line you got there, Nolan.”

“Yes or no?”

She touched her lips. “Uh, I’ll have to go into the bathroom for a minute, and, uh, freshen up.”

“All right.”

When she came back he was sitting on the bed, naked, smoking a cigarette. His body was light tan in color, and leanly muscular. There was an attractive ruggedness to him that the little scars and even the red, puckered place on his side added to rather than took away. The hair on his chest was black mingled with white.

“You’re beautiful, Nolan,” she said.

He put out his cigarette. “Take off the robe.”

She let the terry robe drop to the floor and stepped out of it and joined him on the bed, leaning over to cut the light.

She felt his arms coil around her, the possessive strength of them pleasing to her, and when his mouth covered hers the kiss was hot and almost savage. He was strong and somewhat rough, but she liked it. She was so tired of boys, so very tired of little boys, and now a man, at last a man was taking her. In spite of the heat of the act, she sensed something cold, something methodical in his lovemaking that, oddly enough, only excited her more. It seemed that for hours those strong hands of his ran up and down her body, over her breasts, cupping her buttocks, coursing up and down over the inner flesh of her upper thighs. When at last she felt his fingers twining in her pubic hair and, finally, slipping in to probe her, she said, “Oh Nolan, God I’m ready, do it now, please do it now.”

The whole thing was over in less than five minutes. She lay back exhausted as he climbed off, stretching her arms out crucifix-style, feeling both used and satisfied.

She stared at the ceiling for a while and when she looked over at him again he was dressed, and she didn’t even have her breath back yet.

“Aren’t you . . . aren’t you going to stay with me tonight?” She knew with the job so close he couldn’t, but she felt she should ask.

He put on his jacket and went to the door.

“Now that you laid all three of us,” Nolan said, “maybe you can get your mind on the job.”

The door slammed and she sat staring at it.