Книга только для ознакомления
. He was shocked that I would suggest it,
horrified that a lady would go along with this indecent proposal. On the latter
point I might have agreed with him yesterday... but I had learned that Gwen was
not easily daunted. In fact I think she enjoyed it.
As he peeled down. Bill gained a bit of my sympathy; he looked like a
plucked chicken, with a woebegone expression to match. When he was down to
undershorts (gray with dirt), he stopped and looked at me. "All the way," I said
briskly. "Then duck into the 'fresher and take the works. If you do a poor job,
you'll do it over. If you stick your nose outside in less than thirty minutes, I
won't bother to check you; I'll simply send you back in. Now get those drawers
off-fast!"
Bill turned his back to Gwen, took off his shorts, then scuttled sideways
to the refresher in a futile effort to retain a fraction of his modesty. He
sealed the door behind him.
Gwen put her pistol into her purse, then worked her fingers, flexing and
extending them. "I was getting stiff from holding it. Beloved, may I have those
cartridges?"
"Eh?"
"The ones you took from Bill. Six, wasn't it? Five and one."
"Certainly, if you wish." Should I tell her that I too had use for them?
No, data of that sort should be shared only on a "need to know" basis. I got
them out, handed them to her.
Gwen looked them over, nodded, again took out her sweet little pistol-slid
out its clip, loaded the six confiscated rounds into it, replaced the clip,
jacked one into the chamber, locked the weapon and returned it to her purse
|
