The Other Side of Midnight

"Anything wrong?" Fraser asked.

Catherine thought of the motel room with the dirty cracked mirror. She looked at the strong intelligent face of the man with his arm around her. "Not now," she said gratefully. She swallowed. "I have to tell you something. I'm a virgin."

Fraser smiled and shook his head in wonder. "It's incredible," he said. "How did I wind up with the only virgin in the city of Washington?"

"I tried to correct it," Catherine said earnestly, "but it just didn't work out."

"I'm glad it didn't," Fraser said.

"You mean you don't mind?"

He was smiling at her again, a teasing grin that lit up his face. "Do you know your problem?" he asked.

"I'll say!"

"You've been worrying too much about it."

"I'll say!"

"The trick is to relax."

She shook her head gently.

"No, darling. The trick is to be in love."

Half an hour later the car pulled up in front of his house. Fraser led Catherine inside to the library.

"Would you like a drink?"

She looked at him. "Let's go upstairs."

He took her in his arms and kissed her hard. She held him fiercely, wanting to draw him into her. If anything goes wrong tonight, Catherine thought, I'll kill myself. I really will kill myself.

"Come on," he said. He took Catherine's hand.

Bill Fraser's bedroom was a large masculine-looking room with a Spanish highboy against one wall. At the far end of the room was an alcove with a fireplace and in front of it, a breakfast table. Against one wall was a large double bed. To the left was a dressing room and off that, a bathroom.

"Are you sure you wouldn't care for that drink?" Fraser asked.

"I don't need it."

He took her in his arms again and kissed her. She felt the male hardness of him, and a delicious warmth coursed through her body.

"I'll be back," he said.

Catherine watched him disappear into the dressing room. This was the nicest, most wonderful man she had ever known. She stood there thinking about him, then suddenly realized why he had left the room. He wanted to give her a chance to undress alone, so that she would not be embarrassed. Quickly Catherine began taking off her clothes. She stood there a minute later nude and looked down at her body and thought, Good-bye, Saint Catherine. She went over to the bed, pulled back the spread and crawled between the sheets.

Fraser walked in, wearing a cranberry moire silk dressing gown. He came over to the bed and stared at her. Her black hair was fanned out against the white pillow, framing her beautiful face. It was all the more stirring because he knew that it was totally unplanned.

He slipped the robe off and moved into the bed beside her. She suddenly remembered.

"I'm not wearing anything," Catherine said. "Do you think I'll get pregnant?"

"Let's hope so."

She looked at him, puzzled, and opened her mouth to ask him what he meant, but he put his lips on hers and his hands began to move down her body, gently exploring, and she forgot everything except what was happening to her, her whole consciousness concentrated on one part of her body, feeling him try to enter her, hard and pulsing, forcing, an instant of sharp, unexpected pain, then sliding in, moving faster and faster, an alien body in her body, plunging deep inside her, moving with a rhythm that grew more and more frantic, and he said, "Are you ready?" She was not sure what she was supposed to be ready for, but she said, "Yes," and suddenly he cried, "Oh, Cathy!" and made one last sporadic thrust and lay still on top of her.

And it was all over, and he was saying, "Was it wonderful for you?" and she said, "Yes, it was wonderful," and he said, "It gets better as it goes along," and she was filled with joy that she was able to bring him this happiness, and she tried not to worry about what a disappointment it had been. Perhaps it was like olives. You had to acquire a taste for it. She lay in his arms, letting the sound of his voice wash over her, comforting her, and she thought This is what is important, being together as two human beings, loving and sharing each other. She had read too many lurid novels, heard too many promising love songs. She had been expecting too much. Or perhaps--and if this were true, she must face it--she was frigid. As though reading her thoughts, Fraser pulled her closer and said, "Don't worry if you're disappointed, darling. The first time is always traumatic."