“Are you going to take the rest off or are you going to make me do it?” he asked, taking the clothes and the spacesuit to a container.
“The... the rest? No, no...”
Mary already felt naked enough without James getting to see... the rest. All of her: her spare tyres, her cellulitis and her stocky arms felt intimidated by that man’s eyes. She didn’t have enough hands to cover her white skin with its sweet freckles. She wanted to get out of there, find a blanket, something to cover her body with. But then, he started too.
Right in front of Mary, who was rigid with fear, James took off his hat, then his scarf, his shirt, boots, trousers... and his underwear. He was naked before the young woman, under the cold electric light, waiting for her to do the same.
James didn’t insist, but she complied.
“Don’t look,” she pleaded.
“I’ll turn off the light – don’t worry.”
James walked to the entrance and pressed a switch. Darkness was Mary’s best ally. Quiet sounds of clothing being pulled over skin and light footsteps on the frozen floor were clues to the young woman’s absolute nakedness.
“I’m ready. And now what’s supposed to happen?”
A siren sounded. A red light began to turn over their heads. A voice announced disinfection in a few seconds. James, almost feeling his way in the dark, gathered up their clothes and threw them into a container, which immediately burnt the clothes.
Then James came close to Mary.
“Give me your hand,” he said.
Mary did so.
“Stand here in the centre – beside me.”
There was barely a palm’s breadth between them. Their eyes met in the red of that artificial night. A night with a scarlet moon where it began to rain horizontally and vertically. They drank each other in through widened pupils.
“It’s freezing,” she murmured, referring to the disinfectant.
“I thought that your lips were trembling from fear,” he said.
“From fear... of what?”
“Of dying.”
“No, it’s just cold,” she lied.
“Then... come closer.”
“No, thank you. I’m fine.”
“I’m not asking you to dance with me.”
James drew closer to her and he put his arms around her. Mary became a statue under those strong arms holding her so confidently. James’ chest was as hot as burning coals. Hesitantly, she finally decided to shyly put her arms around him. She didn’t want it to seem like she was taking advantage of the situation but she felt so good in his arms that she didn’t want that strange rain to ever stop.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yes,” she murmured, dozing placidly in his warmth.
The rain stopped after a few moments. The same voice announced the drying process. Some lateral turbines turned on and a gale blew across the room. Mary, scared, closed her eyes and hugged James tighter without realising.
After all that, the voice announced the end of the disinfection. Their bodies didn’t pull apart. The red light danced on above them.
“It’s over,” he pointed out, creating a small space between them. “Are you all right?”
“I suppose so,” she said timidly, while her fingertips said goodbye to James’ taut skin.
“But you’re still trembling.”
“I was close to death, wasn’t I?”
James nodded understandingly.
“Don’t worry, Miss Ackerson. You have nothing to fear now.”
His rugged, full lips remained half open after he said these words. Mary wanted to fling herself into his arms and press her own lips to his. But she stood still, paralysed, unable to say a word.
“I’m going to turn on the light. Don’t worry – I won’t look. I’m sorry I was so direct earlier but we had no time. I was nervous. One more minute and...”
“Don’t worry, Mr Stafford. I understand.”
James went back to the entrance and pressed the switch. The light clothed Mary’s body in cold reality once more.
“I’ll be back now,” he explained. “I’ll find us some clothes.”
“Okay,” she said, her eyes wandering over that manly body.
He soon returned with a new uniform, which he threw in without looking.
“Here are some clean clothes. I’ll wait for you out here.”
Mary dressed herself as fast as she could and looked at her distorted reflection in the shiny metal walls:
“This isn’t my size,” she mumbled as she tried not to burst the uniform, which clung tighter with every step she took.
Holding her breath so that her imprisoned breast wouldn’t burst out in front of James like a cuckoo-clock telling the time, she clumsily smoothed her hair to one side and to the other.
“You’re a hopeless case, Ackerson. Anyway, why bother? What are you thinking?” she beat herself up as she walked towards the exit.
Desperate and feeling like a scarecrow stuffed with corn, she walked outside. There was James waiting for her, sitting on a rock opposite a palm tree.
“Just look. Everything looks great on him,” she thought, swallowing saliva.
James smiled.
“It looks good on you,” he said.
“Don’t lie.”
“Seriously,” he said, standing up. “A little small, maybe. But that’s not your fault, it’s mine. I couldn’t find a bigger one.”
“Is he calling me fat? He’s calling me fat! Mary, you’re behaving like Lillie again... If Samuel could see you... And anyway, you’re talking to yourself – which is just pathetic in any case,” she said to herself, scrunching up her nose.
“Sorry,” said James, realising that his comment may have sounded a bit offensive. “I didn’t mean to annoy you. I meant that... I couldn’t find your size. In fact, I don’t know what your size is. And you know I was close enough to you – but I’ve always been bad at that stuff...”
Mary couldn’t help laughing as she noticed that James was getting as nervous as she was. James... nervous!
“What are you laughing at?” he asked, surprised.
“We nearly died. The least thing I should be worrying about right now is what this uniform looks like on me, don’t you think?”
James gave an affirmative nod.
“Thank you very much, Mr Stafford.”
“Not at all. I wouldn’t like to lose the director of plants and cows at the first sign of trouble.”
Mary turned her head to one side trying to think of something to fill those uncomfortable silences, full of smiles. So she decided to speak:
“Mr Stafford, I don’t know what you think but I think that I deserve to know what it is that the storms bring, don’t you agree?” she asked, barely looking at him.
“I do. But this isn’t the best time or the best place.”
“And when will be?”
“I’ll knock on your door tonight. Don’t go to sleep.”
“What? Should I take this as a date? But we’ve only known each other for... nothing: barely a day. Mary, control yourself! Take charge, be tough, don’t be Lillie, don’t be Lillie!” she told herself.
“Okay, I’ll wait for you,” she answered, with a trace of desire in the tone of her voice.
“Easy woman,” she yelled at herself inside.
James seemed to stand up tall again like the serious man with no fear that everyone knew, more confident than ever – even with that uniform that had nothing in common with his usual lone ranger look. Without further ado and giving a friendly farewell look, he left – but not without first saying:
“I have to cure Loja. I’ll send someone for you – with a new spacesuit.”
“That’s my size, please,” she joked.
James turned around, narrowing his eyes.
“Of course, Miss Ackerson” he said, looking her body up and down. “Of course.”
“Ah, and what door will you knock on? I don’t even know where I live.”
�
��You’ll be told later, Miss Ackerson. Don’t worry,” said James, heading off.
From the top of a metal pole, a surveillance camera was silently spying. On the other end, Angie Dickinson had been watching the whole greenhouse scene from James’ office.
“Don’t put your hopes on him, you stupid lump,” said Angie to herself. “A man like that would never fall in love with someone like you.”
Chapter 19
James got back to the mansion mid-afternoon.
“Oh, for God’s sake, James!” exclaimed his mother. “Are you all right? You had us worried.”
“Yes, mother, we’re all right.”
“We?”
“Miss Ackerson was with me. The storm caught us unawares, and we had no choice but to disinfect at the greenhouse.”
“You must be hungry; you must be tired,” said his mother, watching him closely with a worried expression.
“Relax, Mother, relax. Everything’s fine. I’m going to lie down for a while.”
“But... your hands, your face...”
“Seriously, I’m perfectly fine. They’re just scratches.”
James headed towards the stairs and met his father on the way.
“James...!”
“Father...”
Mr Stafford didn’t have a chance to say anything more to his son, who appeared tired and wanted to get to his room.
“Take him up something to eat,” Mrs Stafford told one of the maids.
“What’s wrong with him?” asked his father. “He’s wearing an operator’s uniform.”
“Did you not hear the alarm?” she asked in surprise.
“Alarm? What alarm?”
His wife, resigned, walked slowly to the sitting-room, where she continued reading stock prices with a singular classical melody in the background.
James crossed his office, opened the door to his room and fell exhausted onto his bed. On the way, he had passed Angie’s half-naked body on the desk. She stood up, annoyed, snorting at being ignored. Then, she breathed in, turned down the lights and went over to where he was – almost asleep.
Her hands weren’t at all subtle and she began to massage his shoulders, soon moving to his neck.
“Clarisse, it’s not a good time... I want to rest. Leave the soup and go.”
“Clarisse?” she thought, looking surprised.
“You’re wrong...” whispered Angie, without stopping her thumbs in their dance around the base of his neck. “It’s Miss Dickinson.”
“Eh?” stammered James into the pillow.
“Angie – your secretary, remember?” she explained. “Do you want to take off your shirt so I can give you a deeper massage?”
“Massage? Deeper? What are you talking about?” spluttered James. “Miss Dickinson, I don’t think you’ve fully understood your role here at Stafford Research.”
Just as James turned around to get up, Angie took a few steps back – standing up.
“Mr Stafford, I know perfectly well what my role is in this company. And more precisely, in this office.”
Slowly, Angie began to undress. With sensual, swaying movements of her breasts and hips, she tried to use the lasciviousness of her dance to get James to pay a little more attention to her.
“I don’t think it’s the most appropriate time, Miss Dickinson.”
“I think just the opposite,” she said between whispered groans, running the fingertip of her index finger from her tongue down to the hollow between her breasts. Before Angie reached unknown territory, James stopped her with words.
“No” he ordered, with a threatening look.
Angie smiled in disbelief.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t...”
Angie tried again. This time, James was a little blunter.
“If I wanted a slut, I’d only have to click my fingers...”
Just at that moment, something surprised James.
“Eh... I wasn’t talking about you, Clarisse,” he apologised clumsily.
Angie turned and saw a very angry maid, with a tray in her hands.
“Here is your supper, sir,” said the young servant.
Clarisse let the tray fall, it hit the floor – and she left the room full of spite. James, who had half stood up, let himself collapse onto the bed again, while Angie pulled herself together from her nakedness and excitement.
“I know what you’re playing at, Mr Stafford. I know men like you very well: you’ve just made it very clear that you like to float from flower to flower at your convenience.”
“You seem to know me well...”
“I was looking at your personal assessment of me in the computer.”
James rolled his eyes.
“But it’s curious that now that you have me here with you, you don’t even want to touch me. What’s changed, Mr Stafford? Have you met someone more interesting than me perhaps? I don’t think so.”
Angie was so sure of what she was saying that she continued with her own praise.
“Just imagine the wedding photo. You must see, Mr Stafford, that we would be the perfect couple. And, of course, for your mother... I would be the perfect daughter-in-law.”
“The perfect daughter-in-law?”
“I wouldn’t give you any problems: just children and stability in your life.”
“Children? Stability? I only chose you to...”
“...seduce me, woo me with pretty words, make love to me...”
Angie tried to approach James again.
“Love?” interrupted Claudia. “James doesn’t know what making love is.”
Angie’s fright was much greater this time.
“Does nobody knock on the door in this house?” she exclaimed as she tried to cover herself up.
“Get out of here, you opportunist! You’ll be hearing from me,” said Claudia rudely. “I hope you like gathering corn.”
“What?”
“Out!”
Angie left the room angrily, slamming the door behind her.
“Claudia...” mumbled James. “Since when have you been in charge of my life?”
“In your state, it’s better for someone like me to be in charge – even if I’m under medication. James, your hands are destroyed!”
“It’s nothing: just little scratches.”
“I know you saved her,” she said, stroking him gently.
“Who? Miss Ackerson? Yes.”
“I followed you on the security cameras.”
“What?” asked James a little nervously. “And what did you see?”
Claudia smiled a smile full of secrets.
“Tell me, seriously: did you see everything?”
Claudia nodded twice.
“She’s mad about you, I’m sure about that,” she said. “Now I just need to know one little thing: do you really like her?”
“Don’t start with that...”
Claudia got up.
“Thank you for answering. See you later. This makes me really happy.”
“But I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t,” she said, turning. “But your eyes did. Rest, James.”
The young, bruised James remained half-undressed on his bed, looking at the ceiling, thoughtful, making a mental sketch of Mary’s blue, green or grey eyes dancing over those two beautiful, freckly cheeks. He couldn’t wait for nightfall and, not far from there, Mary was longing for the exact same thing.
Chapter 20
The sun barely touched off the horizon at midnight. Darkness covered the rocks, painted dreams and put problems to sleep. But James and Mary weren’t sleeping like the rest of the planet. Unknown to each other, they were both nervously longing for their meeting.
James, unwittingly, practiced his rugged look a hundred and one times as he waited behind the corner. He had been there a while but he didn’t want to seem impatient. Mary, likewise, had her ear to the door of her room, glancing one moment into the mirror and the next at a litt
le clock that she had on her new bedside-table.
It was time. A few short steps took James to the doorbell, which announced his arrival. Mary breathed in – her whole body a bag of nerves. Her hand turned the golden doorknob and opened the door.
Silence. The dim light found Mary and christened her in perpetual twilight. James, with his cowboy hat covering his forehead and eyes in the shade, lifted his gaze and was captivated by one of Mary’s chestnut curls. And from one, he moved to another, and from that to her lips, climbing needy and anxious up to her eyes and bathing in that multi-colour lake until words rose up from their mouths.
“Good evening,” he said, without looking away.
“Good evening,” said Mary, floating on a cloud.
“Night suits you, Miss Ackerson.”
Mary swallowed – although her mouth was dry.
“Thank you,” she said with a timid smile. “Would you like to come in?”
James shook his head.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“Oh,” she said quietly, surprised.
“I’d like to show you somewhere.”
“All right. But you’ll have to wait – I have to put on that damn spacesuit.”
“It’s not necessary,” he said. “At least not tonight. We’re not going on horseback.”
“Sorry. I haven’t asked you how Loja is.”
“He’s fine, thanks. They’re fixing him: some repairs to his legs and he’ll be better.”
“I’m glad. So, how are we going?”
“I’ve brought a car. It’s a long way. And relax: there are no leaks in this one. We have enough oxygen to get there and back without any problems.”
“But you haven’t told me where we’re going,” she said a little anxiously.
“It’s sort of a surprise. I’ll wait for you around the back in the undercover car park. See you in a minute.”
Mary nodded, closing the door slowly. As soon as it was shut, she spun around, the thrill boiling up through her from the soles of her feet. She wanted to yell with excitement but she didn’t in case James heard her. She ran through the room, braking in front of the mirror.
“Did you see him?” she asked the mirror. “He’s gorgeous with that hat – it makes him so...”
Mary sighed, wrapping herself up in her imagination, which she had left behind by the time she arrived at the back of the building floating on love.
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