Change of Heart by Sally Mandel Read Free Book Online Page B

ironic chuckle, no good-sport self-mockery, but delighted, joyful laughter.
    â€œWow,” she said softly, and laughed some more.
    Brian took her hand and pressed it to his mouth.
    Well, she thought, maybe I’m going to die happy.

Chapter 8
    Sex. Now there’s a subject worthy of a girl’s attention. Sharlie squirmed restlessly on her bed as the light from her window softened from white to pale gray. Tonight was her first actual date with Brian Morgan. Yesterday he had tucked her into a cab with Walter’s clock, then poked his head through the door to pronounce, “Tomorrow we’ll go to the movies.” When she woke up this morning, the entire encounter seemed like last night’s dream, but then the telephone rang, and Brian’s voice said he was taking her to a revival of Swept Away.
    Sharlie had informed her mother in a careful voice. At the mention of the film’s title, Margaret’s head shot up from her needlepoint. Have to give her credit, thought Sharlie, smiling up at the ceiling. Not one word.
    Margaret disapproved of explicit sexuality. Sometimes during one of her speeches on the evils of pornography, Sharlie imagined her mother striding across Forty-second Street in flowing Victorian skirts, slashing with blue pencil at the piles of lewd literature.
    Still, Sharlie had struggled over the years to maintain an attitude of reserved curiosity toward sex. Her experiments with her own body had been of necessity abortive. As soon as her heart-beat sped up, she would force her fingers to some neutral location above the blankets and her thoughts to cooler topics. She’d lie in bed at night, her young body aching to be touched, and she’d think, Well, let’s examine the plot structure of the nineteenth-century English novel. Safe enough.
    But before she knew it, Darcy would be chasing a stark-naked, giggling Elizabeth Bennett across the immaculately groomed grounds of his estate, and Jane Eyre would stand in the firelight before Edward Rochester and, with smoldering eyes, slowly unbutton her shabby gray dress.
    So she’d switch to nature. Think about trees, flowers, oogenesis—though that could get tricky, too. She had often wished she could adopt the attitude that there are worse ways to die than in midorgasm. It might be worth the risk to find out what orgasms were like. A heart attack making love to someone else seemed acceptable, but to die masturbating … She would shudder and try to concentrate on nuclear physics.
    She could barely lie still in the quiet room, thinking about tonight. Perhaps the sight of naked flesh on the screen would send him into a frenzy. He’d rape her in the aisle, or maybe between the rows of seats on top of all the discarded chewing gum and used Kleenex. Just to be on the safe side, she’d better wear her old coat The upholstery at the local Loew’s was surely oozing with ejaculate and drool.
    But there was no wild beast about Brian. She remembered the gentle pressure of his fingers on her arms and sighed. She was twenty-six years old, and except for several hundred members of the medical profession, she’d never felt the hands of a man on her naked body. The proximity of Brian Morgan made her flesh scream, “Hey! It’s time already!”
    Her reaction to his physical presence reminded her of those experiments at the Museum of Natural History in which someone would hold on to a source of electricity. As the current passed through his body, his hair would stand on end. Brian was her source, and if he passed anywhere near her, the tiny soft hairs on her skin would rise up in waves, following his path.
    To be honest, Sharlie thought, if there were any raping to be done at Loew’s East, she’d probably end up doing it herself.
    They walked out of the theater at nine o’clock that evening.
    â€œIt’s early,” Brain said, steering her down Third Avenue. “Come on up to my