I USED TO KNOW HIM

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

     At first, he didn't catch the meaning behind her words, and then he blinked.

"What?" He asked.

"The car, the black one. It followed me to work this morning." She

paused, then added, "It didn't follow me home though."

     Nick slammed the paper to the floor, his lean jaw muscles knotted in

anger. "That settles it," he snapped. "I can face whatever I'm mixed up

in, but there's no earthly reason why you should be subjected to it!

I'll have to get out!"

     Margret threw herself into his arms, the ever-ready tears welling in her

eyes. "No, Nick," she pleaded. "Whatever it is, we'll fight it. We'll

make out, but darling, don't leave me again!"

     He held her tightly against him, his hands stroking the warm softness of

her back and spine. The perfume of her hair filled him with a heady

thought of summer fields of flowers, of sweetness and tenderness, of...

love. Love. Nick Danson, he told himself, you _are_ mixed up. You're

falling in love with your own wife.

     "... and we'll go away," Margret was whispering in his ear. "We'll pack

everything and go far away, where we'll never see these men again. Nick.

Please. Oh, please keep me with you."

     "Going away won't settle anything, sweetheart. They'll always be there,

just outside the door. I've got to do something..."

     He broke off suddenly and it flicked into his mind like a film of the

past, like a memory. The soft face of the girl, her hair a golden colour

against the backdrop of the ochre mountains ... the softness of the pale

blue-green tree... She spun away from him, the loose, filmy blue dress

whirling about her trim ankles ... then she was coming back to him, arms

outstretched ... kissing him lovingly...

     He shut it off, clamped it from his mind. A memory! A memory that made

no sense at all. A tremor of fear ran along his spine and trembled in

his flesh. What did it mean? What was happening to him?

"Nick?" It was Margret. "What is it, Nick? You look pale and frightened."

"Nothing. We'll go away."

     She beamed. "I know just the place. The cabin. Far up in the mountains.

No one will know we're there. We'll learn to love each other again."

"You have to work," he pointed out.

     She nodded. "That's true, still _you_ could go up there and try to

puzzle this all out. I can come up in the evenings, and on weekends."

"Might be a good idea," he admitted, thinking that at least, he'd be

safe from prying eyes.

    "Then it's settled. You go sit somewhere and I'll get things packed."

She whisked away, almost running up the stairs to pack some things for

him. He walked to the kitchen, without turning on a light, and poured

himself a glass of water. Outside, through the window, he could see the

twilight fading into evening, the heavy purple clouds of night sweeping

steadily across the sky. A star winked later and he knew it. Venus. He

stood there in the darkness and picked out many of them as they

flickered into being. Mars. Sirius, Vega and others. There were...

* * * * *

     ... She came into his arms and talk was insignificant and quite

unnecessary. The soft, white arms wound about his neck, tugging fingers

pulled playfully at his hair and she smiled at him. His lips moved down

against hers and they were lost in themselves. He could feel the taut

pressure of her breasts playing against his chest and the firm roundness

of her thighs working against his.

     Her strong fingers worked against the muscles of his shoulders, pulling

him down onto the cottony moss beneath the strange tree. The small

litheness of her body molded into his and his hands stroked her breasts

beneath the filmy cloth that covered them. Her hands moved upward to the

straps that swept over her shoulders and pulled them down. His eager

fingers helped her, working the straps down until the firm mounds of her

breasts lifted their rubbery, coral tipped nipples toward the sky. His

fingers worked them, kneaded the warm muscles, while his mouth worked on

hers. When he had released her lips, she pulled his face down into the

twin cushions of her breasts. His hand moved against the flesh of her

thighs, caressingly...

* * * * *

"Ready, dear?"

     It was gone. Like that. A sudden flickering memory of some long vanished

event that might have given him some hope. It had been fantastic again,

the strange colors and the weird landscape, but he wanted it despite

that. She had stolen it, ripped it viciously from his mind; but she was

not to blame. He turned and smiled at her as she came into the kitchen.

She had turned on a soft light in the front room, but had allowed the

kitchen to remain dark. In the half-light of the room, he thought that

she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. It would not be hard

to love her, he thought again.

     He reached out and took her by the shoulders, pulling her gently against

him to kiss her. Her mouth moved against his, satiny with desire, until

they parted.

"I'm ready, if you are," he said.

"For what, darling? The bedroom or the car?"

He chuckled. "The car. The bedroom will keep until we're up in the

woods."