It wasn't going to be easy. I had to convince myself, visualize Fay, hypnotize myself into believing that the woman sitting beside me was Fay.
And even if he separated himself from me to watch from outside my body, it would do him no good because the room would be dark.
I waited for some sign that he suspected—the warning symptoms of panic.
But nothing. I felt alert and calm. I put my arm around her.
"Charlie, I—" "Don't talk!" I snapped, and she shrank from me.
"Please," I reassured her, "don't say anything. Just let me hold you quietly in the dark."
I brought her close to me, and there under the darkness of my closed lids, I conjured up the picture of Fay—with her long blonde hair and fair skin.
Fay, as I had seen her last beside me. I kissed Fay's hair, Fay's throat, and finally came to rest upon Fay's lips.
I felt Fay's arms stroking the muscles on my back, my shoulders, and the tightness inside me built up as it had never before done for a woman.
I caressed her slowly at first and then with impatient, mounting excitement that would soon tell.
The hairs on my neck began to tingle. Someone else was in the room, peering through the darkness, trying to see.
And feverishly I thought the name over and over to myself. Fay! Fay! FAY!
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