`What?' she asked.

`Lie here just as you are without moving, and close your eyes.'

She looked at me - our bodies were separated by only three or four inches and one of her hands was still pulling me

toward the great melting pot - and again she was neither Bardot nor bitch. When she sighed, let go of me and closed

her eyes, I eased myself to a seat on the edge of the couch again.

Try to relax,' I said.

Her eyes shot open and her head jerked up like a doll's.

`What the, bell do I want to relax for?'

Please, for me, do this … one thing. Lie there in your full beauty and let your arms, legs, face, everything relax. Please.'

`What for? You're not relaxed.' And she laughed coldly at my denied, deprived, but still unbending middle leg. `Please, Linda, I want you. I want to make love to you, but first I want to caress you and kiss you and I want you to receive my love without - with complete relaxation. I know it's impossible, so I'll suggest a way you might do it. I want you to think of - a little girl picking flowers in a field.. Can you do that?'

Bitch glared up at me.

Why?'

`If you do it, you may - if you follow my instructions you may be in for a surprise. If I come into you now, neither of

us will learn anything,' I brought my face dramatically down to within a few inches of hers. `A little girl picking

flowers in a totally lush, green, beautiful but deserted field. Do you see that?'

She-glared a moment longer, then lowered her head to the couch and closed her legs together. Two or three minutes

passed. Very distantly I could hear Miss Reingold's typewriter tit-tatting away.

`I see a little kid picking /tiger lilies near a swamp.'

`Is the little girl a pretty girl?'