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. Do you
want to know what it is that makes you so special?"
"Yes! Well, I think so. If it's not booby-trapped."
"It's not. Mistress mine, your unique and special quality is this: When I'm
around you, I'm happy."
"Richard!"
"Quit blubbering. Can't stand a female who has to lick tears off her upper
lip."
"Brute. I'll cry if I goddam well feel like it... and I need this one.
Richard, I love you."
"I'm fond of you, too, monkey face. What I was saying was that, if your
present pack of lies is wearing thin, don't bother to build up another structure
filled with solemn assurances that this is at last the truth, the whole truth,
and nothing but the truth. Forget it. The old structure may be threadbare- but I
don't care. I'm not looking for holes or inconsistencies because I don't care. I
just want to live with you and hold your hand and hear you snore."
"I don't snore! Uh... do I?"
"I don't know. We haven't had enough sleep in the last eighty hours for it
to be a problem. Ask me in fifty years." I reached across the table, tickled a
nipple, watched it grow. "I want to hold your hand, listen to your snores, and
occasionally-oh, once or twice a month-"
"Once or twice a month!"
"Is that too often?"
She sighed. "I guess I must settle for what I can get. Or go out on the
tiles."
'Tiles? What tiles? I was saying that once or twice a month we'll go out to
dinner, see a show, go to a night club
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