Chapter 15

Marianne walked slowly towards the public relations office. The door was closed. She opened it silently and entered. Marvin was talking on the phone. He stopped as the door opened, then when he saw it was Marianne, he clapped his hand over the phone saying, "Come in and close the door," then went back to his conversation. "So it's all okay, Bancroft," Marvin said.

Marianne sat down in the chair beside Marvin's desk and listened.

"Yeah," Marvin was saying, "like rabbits!" He laughed, met Marianne's eyes and winked. "Okay, I'll have someone meet you. See you," and the call was over.

"Bancroft in Washington?" asked Marianne.

"Yeah," said Marvin, staring at her legs. He swung his chair to face her so he could get a better look. "You've got nice legs, Marianne," he remarked.

She smiled. "You're so all kind." She wriggled, letting her skirt ride a little higher and show a little more. God, she told herself, was she that hungry for a compliment!

"You musta read too many historical novels when you were a kid," said Marvin.

"Why?" her eyebrows went up.

"You're all so Southern belle! Why d'you use that phony accent?" he asked, grinning.

She looked at him seriously. "It's supposed to make me sexy!" she said sweetly.

Marvin laughed. "You don't need an accent. You do all right bein' yourself."

She took a deep breath and crossed her legs. Her skirt went up higher. Her garter straps showed darkly against her white thigh. "Thanks," she said, softly.

"Thank you," said Marvin, staring at the small, dark space between her thighs.

"Like what you're looking at?" she asked.

He jerked his head up, breathed through his nose, then said, "Yeah, I do, Marianne, I like it very much!"

She stood up suddenly, lifted her skirt to her waist. Her belly was soft and rounded. It undulated gently with each small breath. The reddish blonde pubic hairs glistened and shone in the light from Marvin's window because Marianne wasn't wearing briefs that day either.

"Why are you doing this?" asked Marvin, his voice tight.

She jerked her crotch towards his face then dropped her skirt and slumped down into her chair. "Maybe it's because I like to be appreciated," she drawled.

"I appreciate you," he said.

She laughed without mirth. "Oh, sure." She took a cigarette from his pack on the desk. He leaned forward, lit it for her and smelled the musky, sex scent of her. "I'm not a prude either," she said, looking at him through the smoke from her cigarette, "like Phoebe!"

He started at the name; then remembered. "Did you find her?"

"I didn't see her," she said flatly. Marvin frowned. "Not in her room?" he asked

"I just told you, I didn't see her!" Marianne breathed deeply.

"Okay-okay," Marvin lifted his hand to quiet her.

Marianne smoked fiercely. "Phoebe's about as exciting as a cold, soggy, mashed potato!" she remarked.

Marvin looked at her strangely. "I thought that you and Phoebe got on all right," he said, puzzled.

"Sure we do!"

"Then why ... ? You had a fight with her?" he asked.

"Oh, forget her," snapped Marianne. She felt like saying "fuck her," but restrained herself. "I haven't seen her since yesterday and I don't care if-" she stopped herself with an effort. "If you want to find your frozen jellyfish," she had to add, "go look for her yourself. I've no time for her!"

Marvin looked at Marianne in silence, "Okay, we'll forget her," he said evenly.

Marianne tried to control her temper. Why did she have to be born with red hair? she asked herself. "Is-is Bancroft coming here?" she asked to change the subject.

"Yeah," Marvin tried a grin, "bringing two friends with him." He looked up, then put in, "This is between you and me, Marianne, you know," then he went on normally. "They're going to do some research, which is a nice way of saying-" He stopped.

Marianne smiled. "Well, go on say it, you know me, uninhibited!"

"Which is a polite way of saying that they're coming to watch those Malcolm girls getting screwed!"

"No!" Marianne leaned forward on the edge of her chair. "Are-are you going to watch too?"

Marvin grinned. "Just in the line of duty."

"You bastard," said Marianne. "Can I come, too?"

Marvin looked at her. "You hot bitch, you probably would."

"Would what?" she asked innocently.

"Come too," Marvin cracked.

Marianne giggled. "You are a bastard!" she said again.

"So you tell me."

"Well, can I?" she persisted.

Marvin looked serious. "Pat wouldn't like it."

"Why not?"

Marvin shrugged. "He hates having anyone go in the passages, you know that."

"Will he be there tonight?"

"No, he's keeping out of the way. Won't have anything to do with Bancroft or anyone from Washington if he can help it."

Marianne looked at Marvin. "Well then," she said.

Marvin chewed on a pen. "Well-maybe," he conceded.

She flashed him a big smile. "Maybe you're not such a bastard after all."

"Don't be too sure," he grinned at her. "I might rape you in the dark for all you know."

She looked at him, forcing the smile on her face. "You're too chicken," she said at last, rising to her feet.

"Don't dare me," he cautioned, staring at the expanse of leg below her brief skirt.

"Maybe I will at that," she whispered.

His hand moved forward quickly, slid between her legs and his fingers felt the warm moistness. He swallowed and let his fingers move. "I might just take you up on that."

Marianne closed her eyes, gave a small pelvic jerk, then stepped back and met Marvin's eyes. "I'll see you," she murmured.

Marvin was breathing hard. "I'll let you know what time and where to meet us," he said.

"Do that." Marianne slid silently out of his office.

She was quite a girl, thought Marvin when the door had closed behind her. He liked being with her. It was fun! He stirred uncomfortably, aware that he had been comparing her with Phoebe. That wasn't really fair, he told himself, Phoebe was different. Then he began to wonder. Did he want a girl who was so very different from Marianne? ... Or did he ... ? Marvin tapped his pen on the desk nervously, while he tried to figure it all out.