Chapter 1
SEBASTIAN WOLFF LIT A CIGARETTE. He let the smoke out slowly through his nose, and looked with half closed eyes through the haze; looked at the woman across the bar.
"I want that woman," he said.
Earl smiled. "You," he said, "want every woman."
"And I just may have every one," Sebastian answered. "With a little luck." His laugh was without humor.
Sebastian was a large man. Broad shoulders and massive forearms; huge hands. He was not good-looking, but his face seemed sculptured from rock. Thin lips, high cheekbones, hard sleepy eyes. A man who looked dangerous.
He was.
They were sitting at a circular bar on West Fourth Street drinking bourbon. Not quite drunk, but with intentions of being so. Alone, but with ideas changing on that too. Perhaps with the woman across the bar.
She could feel Wolff's eyes on her. It made her nervous. She turned away, looked at the bar and out the window. A woman may like a glance of admiration, but this man's eyes burned through her with no recognition of her as a person.
Only as a female animal.
It angered her, and she wished he would stop. And yet those eyes were thrilling.
Earl said, "She's getting nervous. I think she wants you."
"Yes," Sebastian said,. He finished his drink and signalled for two more. "Nice looking bitch. Long torso type."
"I'm a leg man."
"My wants are all consuming."
They drank the bourbon slowly, tasting it. Wolff had determined to approach the woman, but he was in no hurry. And he knew that a little whiskey could make him more effective loss of inhibition and more casualness. Good mood for making an acquaintance.
Earl waited, confident that Wolff would move in when the time was right. He'd seen Wolff want a woman before, and had benefited from it.
Earl Dreggs was a large man also. Taller and thinner than Sebastian, a lean, hard type, handsome. He pulled out his tobacco and started filling a leather covered pipe without paying attention to it. His mind was on other things.
Sebastian put down the last of his shot, and stood up.
"Well," he said, "Wish me luck." He walked slowly around the bar, and up to the woman.
She was aware that he was coming, and dropped her eyes. Wolff could see a touch of color at the cheeks. Pale cheeks. And dark eyes. Nice contrast, he thought. Her hair was long and straight and raven black, her body willowy.
Sebastian Wolff wanted her very much.
"Excuse me," he said, his voice deep and resonant.
She looked up at him and could not hide her interest.
Wolff smiled with his mouth only. Behind the thin lips his teeth were white, and he smiled to show them.
His eyes didn't change from the same intense stare.
He said, "You look so interesting that I would like to talk to you."
"Well, thank you, I..."
"I know I'm being a bit direct, but I didn't want to find some silly excuse when I could be sincere about it." He took the stool next to her, offered her a cigarette, and lit it. Then one for himself.
His eyes never left her.
"Thank you," she said; could think of nothing more, and took a drag on the smoke:
"My name is Sebastian. What is your name?"
"Christine. My friends call me Chris."
"I shall call you Chris."
"If you like."
"I like very much."
She said, "You use such precise English and enunciation. You must be an actor."
Sebastian smiled. "I am always acting. A romanticist in a jaded world."
He signalled the bartender and said, "Bourbon and..." Motioning at Christine's glass. It held a frothy drink.
"Make it two bourbons," she said. "I'd feel silly drinking cocktails with someone."
Wolff said, "You are a very aware chick. I thought so, from looking at you. Glad I'm not being disillusioned."
The drinks came, and they drank. Wolff said, "It's hard to meet someone. If only first meetings could be eliminated, and one could simply know the other person by telepathy or some flash of insight. Save exchanging all the needed, but boring, information."
"Oh, I think first meetings are fun."
"Then you can carry it through. Tell me about yourself."
"Anything?"
"Specifics."
She shrugged. "I'm twenty-two years old. Five foot five. Weigh one twenty. That's the physical part."
"Not quite. But continue. Interests, address? Means of support? Marital status?"
"I'm not married or I wouldn't be-here. I don't suppose."
"One can never tell."
"I live near here. I'm trying to write. Poetry. My father is supporting me for a year. That's my story."
"In digest form. But it's a start. I think I would like to get to know you well."
"Thank you."
"You seem to be the type worth knowing. In sorry that there was no one to introduce us anc make it proper and all that nonsense."
She smiled. "I don't mind being picked up," she said.
"In that case, consider it done. I have a friend over there, shall we have him join us, or would you rather be alone?"
"Have him come over if you like. There's safety in numbers."
"Yes," said Sebastian Wolff.
He motioned to Earl. The other man came over and sat on the opposite side of Christine. Wolff said, "Chris, this is my friend, Earl. Earl my true love, Chris."
Earl said hello. Chris said, "True love? Already?" Her eyes were widened in pretended shock.
"You," said Sebastian, "Have lovely eyes, and true love, of course. I believe in love at first sight. My romantic nature. After one has known a girl for a few days, one can never be sure if it is love or just familiarity."
"Quite a theory. It may be true, at least for romantics."
"Are you a romantic?"
"In my poetry."
"Then you must know by now whether you love me."
"Oh, I do."
"Don't joke about love."
Wide eyes. "I may not be joking. Who knows?"
"A very aware chick," said Sebastian Wolff.
They ordered three more bourbons. Wolff took Chris' hand and she didn't object. She was quite fascinated by him big, strange looking, obviously intelligent. And she was an intelligent girl.
Christine Alexandre had graduated from a good Eastern girls' school, had a fair share of romance, had given her virginity to the boy back home and then left him. She was much too stable to be interested in the typical Greenwich Village type. But Sebastian Wolff was different. His strangeness followed no set patterns of non-conformity, he seemed very mature and yet had a spark which is usually reserved for youth. Some spirit which surrounded his personality.
Christine wanted to know him.
And as he looked into her dark eyes, Sebastian knew this. It made him feel good. All conquests did.
"You have good taste, Sebastian," Earl said. "She is very beautiful."
"Yes. She is that."
"How nice to have two men admiring me," she said.
"But you are to be mine alone." "I'd like that."
She was a little drunk. Not enough to be irrational, but enough to be truthful. Sebastian ordered more bourbon.
They talked and drank for another hour. Light talk, meaningless, discussed poetry a while. Christine was unpublished. Wolff said he knew an agent and would try to get him to handle her work.
"Will you? That would be wonderful."
"Of course. As long as you are my true love."
"What are the requirements?"
"Simply doing as you want to do."
"Well, that sounds easy enough."
"Yes," said Sebastian Wolff.
It was late. The three left the bar and strolled toward Christine's apartment, Sebastian holding her hand. He said, "It is nice to walk holding hands. Reminds me of classic young love in springtime."
"You are a romantic," she said.
"A realist too. Walking with my arm around you reminds me of a drunken sailor in Tangiers."
"We'll just hold hands, then."
"Yes. Just hold hands," he said.
They reached her place. Chris turned to Wolff, expecting to be kissed. He kissed her forehead lightly.
"Look, man," said Earl, "I'll grab a cup of coffee at the corner."
"Yes, do that."
Earl turned on his heel and walked off, whistling The International.
Chris looked up at Sebastian. He raised an eyebrow and grinned.
"I suppose we argue now over whether I ask you in?" she said.
"Not at all. I'd like to come in, of course. But I never argue."
"That leaves it up to me, doesn't it?" "Yes."
"Well, all right. A cup of coffee."
"Can I trust you?" he asked.
"Just coffee. I won't seduce you," Chris said.
"Coffee, yes," said Wolff. "Yes, all of that."
They climbed three flights of stairs in an unlit hall. She led Sebastian by the hand, and he smiled in the dark.
I am so charming, thought Sebastian Wolff.
Wolff sat on the couch while Chris went into the kitchen. He smoked and looked around the room.
It was well furnished and must have cost quite a bit in this location. An oil painting signed by Christine hung on the wall. Not bad, thought Wolff, the girl has many talents. He had not expected even that much at first, picking her up in a bar. No telling where one will discover interesting people these days.
But to Sebastian Wolff any attractive woman was interesting.
Chris was attractive.
And definitely a woman.
She came back into the room, carrying a tray with two cups. Wolff noticed the self-possessed sway of her hips, well-rounded in tight black slacks. And the long taper of her body, tiny waist and full breasts. He felt lucky.
Chris sat down beside him. "How do you want your coffee?" she asked.
"Black."
She handed him one cup, added milk to the other. Wolff watched her over his cup. Very graceful movements.
She crossed the room and put a record on the machine. A Plotnik side. Coming back to sit beside Wolff, she said, "I met Plotnik once. Strange little
"I heard him play in Albany a few years ago," Wolff said.
"Do you like music?"
"Romantic music," Sebastian answered. "Or perhaps I should say, romantic background music."
A smile. Then, "Where are you from?"
Wolff shrugged. "At loose ends right now. Earl and I just got in from Chicago."
"Going to be around here for a while?"
"I'd like to. Now."
"Now?"
"Now that I've met you, of course." "Oh. Thank you." "Shall I?"
"That's hardly up to me." "Would you like me to?"
She thought for a moment. Trying to decide how to answer, Wolff thought. Then she said, "I like you. If you can stay, and want to stay, I'll be glad to see you again."
"That makes me ... happy." Wolff put his arm around her and she didn't object. Neither did she respond. He pulled her gently to him, and kissed her.
"Just coffee," she murmured.
"Yes. I told you that I never argue." He said this in her ear, stroking her neck.
"Sebastian..." she started. He kissed her, cutting the protest off. A long kiss, and she kissed him back, moving her lips on his, at first lightly. Then harder.
He moved away and she was breathing hard, her eyes shut. His hand moved up the slope of her thigh, up her side. He kissed her neck.
"Please ... don't. Don't go ... too far," she said.
His hand was on her breast. It was firm and round and he worked his fingers on her. "I'll stop whenever you say," he whispered.
She nodded, leaning back. He unbuttoned her sweater slowly, and she slid her arms out. Reaching behind her, he undid the brassiere, and her breasts were naked beneath him.
"Nice," breathed Wolff, brushing his lips over them. He worked his mouth on the nipples, and she started breathing harder. Moved under him. Her nipples stiffened and swelled. She took his head in her hands and pressed it to her.
Wolff slid one hand slowly down her stomach, her belly. Opened her slacks at the side. She made no effort to resist.
"Not too far," she said, "Please stop before ... "
Her voice tapered off in a sigh as his hand moved beneath the slacks, under the elastic band of her panties.
He moved his head from nipple to nipple, more frantically, more urgently. With both hands he tugged at the slacks. She started to rise, and then settled back and raised her hips.
The pants slid off.
She kicked them from her feet and Wolff moved his lips down, brushed her stomach and belly. "Take my clothes off," he said.
There was no hesitation how.. Her fingers undid his shirt, pants. He took them off, his lips never leaving her body.
They were naked.
Christine was trembling. Her hands stroked his back, around his sides. Now clinging, now stroking. He moved up, and the length of their bodies was touching. She quivered under him, "Chris..." he said.
"Oh, please. Don't do it."
"Yes," he said.
She shook her head, started to rise. He pressed her back to the couch, moving between her thighs. Up. Her head fell back, eyes closed, mouth open, helpless and yielding.
Wolff came to her, slowly, then harder. She crushed his body to hers, heaving with need. Panting. Then moving with him, against him.
The record neared the end. It grew wilder, more frantic. The pianist was grunting with the effort. The tempo built, held...
Released.
Sebastian Wolff relaxed in fulfillment.
"We'd better get dressed," Christine said. They were lying together on the couch, smoking.
Wolff blew smoke.
"I'm sorry we did that," she said.
"Don't lie," he said, looking at the ceiling.
"I'm not lying. I didn't want to do it."
"But you liked it."
"Yes," she said. "I liked it. You're a beautiful lover."
"Thank you," said Sebastian.
"But you must think I'm quite the whore."
"Yeah. Sure."
"Do you?"
Sebastian rolled over and looked at her; took her head in both hands. There was a long pause, and then he said, "I like you very much."
"Really?"
"I have no reason to lie. I've already had your body, why should I deceive you about how I feel?" "I'm glad," she said.
They got up and dressed. Wolff put another record on. He felt good, relaxed. Chris said, "More coffee?"
"Yes. I don't want to leave."
"Now?"
"I don't want to leave ever. As long as I want you."
She didn't know what to say. This man was different than any Chris had ever known, and she wanted him to stay. But something told her that it would hurt her. No false sense of morals, just a feeling that Sebastian Wolff was dangerous.
"I don't know," she said. "I'd like to have you here, but ... "
"Then I stay," Wolff said. He smiled. "All right," Christine said.
Earl Dreggs was drinking his fourth cup of coffee. It was four o'clock in the morning, and he was bored and tired. I hope Sebastian is having enough fun to make up for this, he thought. He was jealous of Wolff, but he admired him. Dreggs had never been glib enough, nor self confident enough, to score with many women. But when he traveled with Wolff his luck greatly increased. At the moment he was thinking of Christine Alexandre, her pale skin and raven hair, her long graceful body. He was hoping that Wolff would give her to him.-
At four fifteen Sebastian came in. He sat next to Dreggs and offered a cigarette.
"Well?" asked Earl.
Wolff raised his eyebrows.
"Did you score?"
"Of course," He showed his humorless smile. "What about me?"
"Not this trip, Earl," Wolff said. "This is a good bit. The chick has money. And she loves me. If we play this right we'll make out just fine."
"How was she?"
"How was she?"
"Inexperienced. Very good though, that chick gives her all."
"Don't think she'll go for doubles?"
Sebastian drew on his cigarette. Dreggs noticed how really hard his face was, and how deep his eyes. Sebastian said, "She'll go for what I tell her to. I said not yet."
"Okay, Wolff," Dreggs said. "It's your game."
"Yes," said Sebastian Wolff. "It's that all right."