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cent meal for me； she knew I would be pleased。 If I was pleased with her； I'd take her to bed。 These thoughts probably never entered her conscious mind； but I sensed this； and knew instinctively that she was mine if I wanted her。 As she chattered away； gaily； cheerfully； I learned that I did want her； very much so。 She was a damned attractive woman； a little heavy in the thighs； perhaps； but I didn't consider that a detriment。 I like women a little on the fleshy side。 Skinny； boyish…type figures may be admired by other women； but not by most men。
I smiled appreciatively； showing my teeth； when she set the huge platter before me。 The aroma of the fried ham steak； four fried eggs； and fluffy potato pancakes all blended beautifully as they entered my nose。 Bernice poured two steaming cups of fresh coffee and sat down across from me to watch me eat； her face flushed from recent exertion and pleasure as I stowed the food away。
〃I should have made biscuits；〃 she said； 〃but I could tell you were too hungry to wait； so I made the toast instead。 Would you like some guava jelly for your toast？〃 She started to get up； but I shook my head violently； and she remained seated。
A minute later she smiled。 〃I like to see a man eat；〃 she said sincerely。
I've heard a lot of women make that trite remark： Grandma； Mother； when she was still alive； and a good many others。 I believe women really do like to see men eat； especially when they're fond of the man concerned； and he's eating food they have prepared for him。 I have never denied any woman the dubious pleasure of watching me eat。 Outside of taking care of a man's needs； women don't get very much pleasure out of life anyway。
When I finished eating everything in sight； I pushed the empty platter to one side； and wiped my mouth with a square of white damask napkin。 Smiling over the lip of her cup； Bernice nodded with satisfaction。 I winked slowly； returned her smile； and she blushed and lowered her eyes。
〃My husband's been dead for five years； Mr。 Mansfield；〃 she said shyly。 〃You don't know how nice it is to cook a meal for a man again。 I'd almost forgotten myself。 I loved my husband very much； and still do； I suppose。 My brother's always telling me how foolish I am to keep this big house and live here all alone。 An apartment would be easier to keep； I know； and give me more free time； but I don't know what I'd do with more free time if I had it。 I don't know what to do with myself half the time as it is。
〃This old house has a lot of pleasant memories for me； and I'd miss them if I ever sold it。 I can see my husband in every room。 Sometimes； during the day； I pretend he isn't dead at all。 He's at the office； that's where he is； working； and when six o'clock es he'll be ing home through the front door like always； and。 。 。〃 Her voice trailed away； and two tears escaped into her long black eyelashes。
Bernice wiped them away； tossed her head impatiently and laughed。
〃Morbid； aren't I？ How about some more coffee？〃
I nodded； took my cigarettes out of my shirt pocket； and offered them to her。 She put the cork tip in her mouth； and when I flipped my lighter； she held my hand with both of hers to get a light。 This was unnecessary。 My hand was perfectly steady。 After refilling the cups； she sat down again and described circles on the tablecloth with a long red fingernail。
〃I know that you want to go； Mr。 Mansfield；〃 she said at last； 〃but I'm finding this a novel experience。 It's a rare instance when a woman can pour her troubles into a man's receptive ear without being told to shut up！〃 She laughed； and shrugged ically。
〃But I really don't have any troubles。 As far as money goes； I'm fixed forever。 My husband saw to that； God bless him。 I own the house； and my trust fund is well guarded by the bank trustees。 And I have a circle of friends I've known most of my adult life。 So where are my troubles？〃 She sighed audibly and licked her lips with the point of her tongue like a cat。
〃I should be the happiest woman in the world。 But once in a while； just once in a while； mind you； Mr。 Mansfield； I'd like to go into my bathroom and find the toilet seat up instead of down！〃 Color flooded into her face； and the freckles almost disappeared。 She got up from the table hastily and pushed open the swinging door leading to the living room。 〃I'll get your money for you； Mr。 Mansfield。〃
She had aroused my sympathy。 I wondered what her husband had been like。 An insurance executive probably。 Every time he had gotten a promotion he had used the extra money for more protection； more insurance。 It must have cost her plenty to keep up this big house。 And it was a cinch she didn't have any children； or she would have talked about them instead of a man five years dead。 If I could have talked； I would have been able to kid her out of her mood in no time。 My sex life had really suffered since I gave up talking。 Not pletely； because money always talks when words fail； but a lot of women had gotten away during the last couple of years because of my stubborn vow of silence。
As I pondered the situation； how best to handle it； Bernice returned to the kitchen。 She placed a fifty…dollar bill on the table。 The fifty ruined everything for me。
I could have accepted a twenty； because Lee Vernon had set the fee； but I couldn't； with good conscience； accept fifty dollars。 My concert wasn't worth that much。 I knew it； and Bernice Hungerford knew it。 She was trying to buy me and I resented it。 I folded the bill into a small square； placed it on the edge of the table and flipped it to the floor with my forefinger。 I got up from the table and left the room。
I picked up my guitar in the living room and had almost reached the foyer when Bernice caught up with me。 She tugged on my arm； and when I stopped； got in front of me； looking up wistfully into my face。 My jaws were tight and I looked over her head at the door。
〃Please！〃 she said； stuffing the folded bill into my shirt pocket。 〃I know what you're thinking； but it isn't true！ The only reason I gave you a fifty was because I didn't have a twenty。 I thought I had one； but I didn't。 Please take it！〃
I dropped my eyes to her face； looked at her steadily； and she turned away from me。
〃All right。 So I lied。 Take it anyway。 Fifty dollars doesn't mean anything to me。 I'm sorry and I'm ashamed。 And if you want to know the truth I'm more ashamed than sorry！〃
I retrieved my hat from the marble angel's thumb and put it on my head。 But I didn't leave。 I reconsidered。 Damn it all anyway； the woman was desirable！ I removed my hat； replaced it on the angel's thumb and dropped my guitar case to the carpeted floor。 Bernice had started up the stairs； but I caught up with her on the third step； lifted her into my arms and continued up the stairs。 She buried her face in my neck and stifled a sob； clinging to me with arms like a child。 As I climbed I staggered beneath her weight…she must have weighed a solid one hundred and forty…five pounds…but I didn't drop her。 When I reached the balcony I was puffing with my mouth open to regain my wind。
Bernice whispered softly into my ear； 〃The bedroom's the first door on the right。〃
The first time was for me。 As nervous as Bernice was； at least at first； it could hardly have gone any other way。 But I was gentle with her； and providing me with satisfaction apparently gave her the reassurance she needed。 There was none of that foolishness about wanting to turn off the bedside lamps； for example； and when she returned from the bathroom； she still had her clothes off。
I had propped myself up on both pillows； and I smoked and watched her as she poured two small snifters of brandy。 The cut…glass decanter was on a side table； beside a fortable wing chait It was unusual； I thought； to keep a decanter of cognac in a bedroom； but having a drink afterward was probably a postcoital ritual that she and her late husband had practiced。
Although Bernice was a trifle on the chunky side； she had a good figure。 Her heavy breasts had prolapsed slightly； but the prominent nipples were as pink as a roseate spoonbill。 Her slim waist emphasized the beautiful swelling lines of her full hips； and her skin； except for a scattering of freckles on her shoulders； was as white as a peeled almond。 With her thick black hair unloosened； and trailing down her back； Bernice was a very beautiful woman。 To top it off； she had a sense of style。 I wanted to talk to her so badly I could almost taste the words in my mouth； and it was all I could do to hold back the torrent that would bee a flood if I ever let them go。
After Bernice handed me my glass； she sat cross…legged on the bed； facing me； swirling her brandy in the snifter she held with cupped hands。 Her face was flushed slightly with excitement。 She peered intently into her brandy glass； refusing to meet my level stare。
〃I want to tell you something； Frank；〃 she said in a soft contralto； 〃something important。 I'm not promiscuous。〃
She said this so primly I wanted to laugh。 Instead； I grinned； wet a forefinger in my brandy and rubbed the nipple of her right breast。
〃And no matter what you may think； you're the first man I've let make love to me since my husband died。〃
I didn't believe her； of course； not for an instant。 But that is the way women are。 They always feel that a man will think less of them if they act like human beings。 What did it matter to me whether she had slept with anyone or not for the last five years？ What possible difference could it make at this moment？ Now was now； and the past and the future were unimportant。
As the nipple gradually hardened beneath my circling finger she laughed； an abrupt； angry little laugh； and tossed off the remainder of her brandy。 I took her glass； put both of them aside； pulled her down beside me； and kissed her。
The second time was better and lasted much longer。 Although I was handicapped by being unable to issue instructions； Bernice was experienced； cooperative and so eager to please me that she anticipated practically everything I wanted to do。 And at last； when I didn't believe I could hold out for another moment； she climaxed。 I remained on my back； with Bernice on top of me； and she nibbled on my shoulder。
〃I could fall in love with you； Frank Mansfield；〃 she said softly。 〃If there were only some way I could prove it to you！〃
Suddenly she got out of bed； grabbed my undershirt and shorts from the winged chaiz and entered the bathroom。 I raised myself on my elbows； and watched her through the open door as she washed my underwear in the washbowl。 She hummed happily as she scrubbed away。 My underwear wasn't dirty。 I had put it on clean after a shower at the hotel before reporting in at the Chez Vernon at eight thirty that evening。 Women； sometimes； have a peculiar way of demonstrating their affection。
Five o'clock finally rolled around； but I hadn't closed my eyes。 Bernice slept soundly at my side； a warm； heavy leg thrown over mine； an arm draped limply across my chest。 She breathed heavily through her open mouth。 I eased my leg out from beneath hers and got out of bed on my side。 The sheet that had covered us was disarranged； kicked to the bottom of the bed。 I pulled it over her shoulders； before taking my clothes from the chair into the bathroom。 My underwear was still dripping wet and draped over the metal bar that held the shower curtain。 I pulled on my clothes without underwear。 As soon as I was dressed； I raised the toilet seat； switched off the bathroom light and tiptoed out of the bedroom； closing the door softly behind me。
At the foot of the stairs； I retrieved my hat and guitar； and made my exit into the dawn。 The sky was just beginning to turn gray。 I opened the guitar case； removed the instrument； and tried to scrape off my name with my knife。 It was burned in too deeply； but Bernice would be able to see that I had tried to scrape it off。 Then I put the neck of the guitar on the top step； and stomped on it until it broke。 After cutting the strings with my knife； I placed the broken instrument on the wele mat。
There was an oleander bush on the left side of the porch。 I tossed the guitar case into the bush。 Now I could