delicacy
ever want to leave Terzia," the other said. She held out her hand again.
Slade moved as he would have moved to mount his tank in an alert: quickly, but with the caution that kept haste from being a danger. He laid his weapon on the table that had held it in the past and stepped toward the bed. He wiped his palms nervously on the dirty fabric of his trousers. Slade was not fit to see a woman, to make love on a sleek, resilient bed to a beauty herself so sleek and as capable of innovation as of response.
He did not hesitate, because he knew by more than words that the Terzia cared for the customary graces only as it pleased her lover to provide them. Slade had made love in alleys and in trenches, once even on his own stretcher in the casualty holding station as an affirmation to himself of his intention to survive. The Terzia was a jewel, not some fellow-swimmer in the maelstrom as those other partners had been. Or again—
Slade's groin was quickening with new excitement as he slid onto the bed.
"Is . . ." he said as his hands cupped her left shoulder and right buttock, calluses over smooth skin and the muscles supple beneath each. "Is there word of a ship coming in?"
"And any ship would be enough," said the Terzia sadly. Her arms circled him, drawing her naked chest against the big man's. His body quivered with a vibrancy she had not drunk from it in months. "You want to leave me so badly."
"Lady," Slade said. He squeezed her tighter in unconscious reaction to the words he was framing. "I don't want to leave you, but I want to go home. I'd . . . . You're a princess here, a queen." He arched back slightly so that he could look at the Terzia's face. "It'd be crazy for you to leave all this to come to Tethys. Gravel and sea, that's all it'd be to you. But it's my home."
"No, I couldn't leave my world, even with you," the Terzia said. Her eyes were on Slade's chest, on the black, springy delicacy of the hairs that doubled by their shadows on his skin. "I'll arrange for you to leave, then, Don. I think
Slade moved as he would have moved to mount his tank in an alert: quickly, but with the caution that kept haste from being a danger. He laid his weapon on the table that had held it in the past and stepped toward the bed. He wiped his palms nervously on the dirty fabric of his trousers. Slade was not fit to see a woman, to make love on a sleek, resilient bed to a beauty herself so sleek and as capable of innovation as of response.
He did not hesitate, because he knew by more than words that the Terzia cared for the customary graces only as it pleased her lover to provide them. Slade had made love in alleys and in trenches, once even on his own stretcher in the casualty holding station as an affirmation to himself of his intention to survive. The Terzia was a jewel, not some fellow-swimmer in the maelstrom as those other partners had been. Or again—
Slade's groin was quickening with new excitement as he slid onto the bed.
"Is . . ." he said as his hands cupped her left shoulder and right buttock, calluses over smooth skin and the muscles supple beneath each. "Is there word of a ship coming in?"
"And any ship would be enough," said the Terzia sadly. Her arms circled him, drawing her naked chest against the big man's. His body quivered with a vibrancy she had not drunk from it in months. "You want to leave me so badly."
"Lady," Slade said. He squeezed her tighter in unconscious reaction to the words he was framing. "I don't want to leave you, but I want to go home. I'd . . . . You're a princess here, a queen." He arched back slightly so that he could look at the Terzia's face. "It'd be crazy for you to leave all this to come to Tethys. Gravel and sea, that's all it'd be to you. But it's my home."
"No, I couldn't leave my world, even with you," the Terzia said. Her eyes were on Slade's chest, on the black, springy delicacy of the hairs that doubled by their shadows on his skin. "I'll arrange for you to leave, then, Don. I think