The black pants were skintight and plain, with elastic in the waist and leg bands. Several long curly tendrils of brown hair strayed beneath the elastic near her mons pubis. Her legs, Blade thought, could only be called elegant. An old-fashioned word, but it fitted. Her legs were so good, so slim and sweetly curving, with thighs and knees barely kissing, that they did not need the arch decoy of high heels to show them off.

Her breasts were beyond description. Blade forgot words and simply gazed, his loins excited and moving. He was something of a connoisseur of breasts and he immediately recognized that hers were hybrid, half Nordic, half Mediterranean. Not tanned pears, but with a hint of conoid; not warm melons, but swelling to found fullness. Her nipples were hall-awakened rosebuds.

«You chose your name well,» Blade admitted. «You are Diana. In the flesh. As she must have been imagined by the ancients.»

She tossed her thick brown hair behind her shoulders. The movement set her breasts to rippling. She regarded him steadily, lower lip caught in upper teeth. «When you have looked your fill,» she told him, «we can get on with the game. There are rules, especially one. I think you had better know about it.»

«There are always rules,» said Blade with a mock scowl. «They usually spoil things. What particular rule did you have in mind?»

«You can look at me, but you may not touch.»

«Oh?» He made no effort to disguise his dismay.

«Until I say you can-if I ever do. Do you agree? If you don't we must stop the game here and now.»

«Oh, I agree,» Blade said hastily. Under his breath he muttered, «La belle dame sans merci.»

She stuck out her tongue at him. «Maybe not. Not entirely. We shall have to see. Are you going to swim with me?»

He reached hastily for another cigarette. «Er, not just this minute. You go on. I'll have a smoke and watch. I wouldn't go out too far-there are some undercurrents that can be nasty at times.»