Overload

Insurance was the reason. "Insurance rates for a disabled person are astronomical," Karen said, "even though someone like me will never drive. With the van in my father’s name, the rates are lower, so that’s why I don’t own Humperdinck officially."

She went on, "Apart from the insurance, I was worried-still am a little-about Daddy borrowing the money to pay for Humperdinck. His bank said no, so he went to a loan company and they agreed, but at higher interest. I know it will be bard for him to make the loan payments because his business is not doing well, and he and Mother already help me with money when my allowances won’t stretch. But they insisted I shouldn’t concern myself, and to let them do the worrying."

Nim said thoughtfully, "Maybe there’s something I could do. I could contribute a little money myself, then see if our company would donate. . ."

Karen cut in sharply, "No! Absolutely not! Nimrod, our friendship is wonderful and I cherish it. But I won’t take money from you-ever and that includes your asking someone else. If my own family does something for me, that’s different and we work it out together, but that’s all. Besides, you already helped us enough with Humperdinck." Her voice softened. "I’m a proud and independent person. I hope you understand."

"Yes," he said, "I understand, and I respect you."

"Good! Respect is important. Now, Nimrod dearest, you’ll only believe what a difference Humperdinck has made to my life if you let me show you.

May I ask you something bold?"

"Ask me anything."

"Could we have a date outside-perhaps go to the symphony?"

He hesitated only momentarily. "Why not?"

Karen’s face lighted with a smile and she said enthusiastically, "You must tell me when you can be free and I’ll make arrangements. Ob, I’m so happy!" Then, impulsively: "Kiss me again, Nimrod."

As he went to her, she tilted up her face, her mouth seeking his eagerly.

He put a hand behind her head, running his fingers gently through her long blonde hair. She responded by pressing her lips closer. Nim found himself emotionally and sexually stirred and the thought came to him: How much promise the next few minutes might hold if Karen were whole in body instead of what she was. Then he dismissed the thought and broke off the kiss. For a moment be caressed her hair again, then returned to his chair.

"If I knew how," Karen said, "I’d purr."

Nim heard a discreet cough and turned his bead to see Josie standing at the doorway. The aide-housekeeper had changed from the white uniform she wore while serving dinner to a brown wool dress. He wondered how long she had been there.

"Oh, Josie," Karen said, "are you ready to go?" For Nim’s benefit she added, "Josie’s visiting her family tonight."

"Yes, I’m ready," the other woman acknowledged. "But shouldn’t I put you to bed before I go?"

"Well, I suppose so." Karen stopped, a faint flush suffusing her cheeks.

"Or perhaps, later on, Mr. Goldman wouldn’t mind .

He said, "If you’ll tell me what to do, I’ll be glad to."

"Well, then, that’s settled," Josie said. "So I’ll be going, and good night."

A few minutes later they heard the sound of the outer door closing.

When Karen spoke there seemed a nervousness in her voice. "Josie won’t be back until tomorrow morning. Normally I have a relief aide-housekeeper, but she’s not well, so my big sister is coming for the night." She glanced at a wall clock. "Cynthia will be here in an hour and a half. Can you stay until then?"

"Of course."

"If it’s inconvenient for you, Jiminy-he’s the janitor you met the first time-will come in for a while."

Nim said firmly, “The hell with Jiminy! I’m here and I’m staying."

"I’m glad." Karen smiled. “There’s some wine left. Shall we kill the bottle?"

"Good idea." Nim went into the kitchen, found glasses and the re-corked Cabernet. Returning, he divided the remaining wine and held one of the glasses while Karen sipped.

"I feel a wonderful glow," she said, “The wine helped, but that isn’t all of it."

On impulse he leaned over, raised Karen’s face in his hand, and kissed her once more. She responded as ardently as the other times, except that the kiss was longer. At length, reluctantly, he moved back, though their faces remained close.

"Nimrod." It was a whisper.

"Yes, Karen."

"I think I’m ready to go to bed."

He found his pulse beating faster. "Tell me what to do."

"Unplug my wheelchair first."

Nim went to the rear of the chair and did so. The power cord retracted into a housing as the battery on the chair took over.

A sudden smile of mischief flashed across Karen’s face. "Follow me!"

Using the electric wheelchair’s blow-sip tube control, and with a speed and dexterity which amazed him, Karen maneuvered herself from the living room, down a small hallway, and into a bedroom. There was a single bed, neatly turned down. Beside it a low-wattage light burned dimly. Karen swung her chair so it was at the foot of the bed, facing away.

“There!" She looked at Nim expectantly.

“All right. What next?"

"You lift me out of the chair, then just pivot-the way you would if you were playing golf-and put me on the bed. When Josie does it we use a body sling that winds up like a crane. But you’re strong, Nimrod. You can lift me in your arms."

He did so, gently but surely, aware of the warm softness of her body, and afterward followed instructions which Karen gave him about her breathing apparatus. He switched on a small Bantam respirator already at the bedside; at once he could hear it cycling-a dial showed fifteen pounds of pressure; the rate was eighteen breaths a minute. He put a tube from the respirator into Karen’s mouth; as she began breathing the pressure went to thirty. Now she could dispense with the pneumobelt she had been wearing beneath her clothes.

"Later," Karen said, "I’ll ask you to put a chest respirator on me. Not yet, though."

She was horizontal on the bed, her long hair spread over the pillow. The sight, Nim thought, would have excited Botticelli.

He asked, "What do I do now?"

"Next . , ." she said, and in the soft, dim light lie saw a blush bloom again on her cheeks. "Next, Nimrod, you undress me."

Karen’s eyes were partly closed. Nim’s hands were shaking and he wondered if what he thought was happening could be true. Not long ago, he remembered, he had told himself that falling in love with Karen would intervene love without sex-in contrast to sex without love which he had experienced so often before. Was he wrong? With Karen could there conceivably be love and sex? But if it happened, surely he would be despicable, taking brutish advantage of her helplessness. Could he?

Should he? the ethical issues seemed a nightmare tangle of unanswered questions, a moral labyrinth.

He had unbuttoned Karen’s blouse. Now be raised her shoulders while he eased it from her arms. She wore no brassiere. Her small breasts were superbly shaped, the tiny nipples slightly raised.

"Touch me, Nimrod." It was a soft command. Responding, be moved his hands lightly over her breasts, his fingertips caressing, then knelt and kissed them. At once he felt her nipples harden. Karen murmured, "Oh, that’s wonderful!"

A moment later she told him, “The skirt unfastens on the left side."

Still gentle, he unbuttoned and removed it.

When Karen was naked, doubts and anxiety still plagued him. But be moved his bands, slowly and with skillful sensuality, as he knew by now she wanted. Soft murmurings made her pleasure clear. After a while she whispered, "I want to tell you something."

He whispered back, "I’m listening."

"I’m not a virgin. There was a boy it happened when I was fifteen, just before I . . ." She stopped, and he saw that tears were rolling down her cheeks."

"Karen, don’t!"

She shook her bead. "I want to tell you. Because I want you to know there hasn’t been anyone else in all those years; no one, between then -and you."

He waited, letting the purport of what she had said sink in before be asked, "Are you telling me . . . ?"

"I want you, Nimrod. All the way. Now!"

"Oh Christ!" Nim breathed the words, aware that his own desires never difficult to unleash-were making themselves known in urgent terms. Then he threw the complex equations overboard and started taking off his clothes.