"Geet,"

"Yes, Maan?"

She turned, brushing against him,

"Listen'' he said slowly, "I don t have any right to be here."

"You mean because you're married?"

"Partly"

"Because I'm Kunal's wife?"

"Yes"

He stopped, seeing her long, silky brown hair tied back in a thick ponytail, her mouth red, her body perspiring in the sweltering heat of the crude bedroom, the beat of her pulse throbbed in the little hollow of her throat. In the glare of the light that hung on a long cord from the bare rafters, the fifth of whiskey on the bedside table glittered.

"Maan " she said. She pressed against him. He put his hands on her waist beneath the hot clinging dampness of her thin cotton dress, her slender hips moved sleekly, a fist of fire hammered in the pit of his stomach. He wanted her, nothing else mattered. "I don't care about Ben or your wife * she said "I don't care about anybody but us "

"My God," he whispered. "We've got to care."

Geet trembled. "No," she said softly, "Not now"

He kissed her, then. And he let his manhood fill her*

Afterward, the thin sounds of the still Oregon night drifting across the river flat, coming with the faint light sifting through the drawn green shade at the open window, Maan let her go, remembering that first breath of nakedness, the way she had twisted out of his arms, wriggling out of her dress. He remembered pulling her down, the creamy smoothness, the tawny flame. Once, a long time ago, on a bombed ship in XXX, he had dreamed emptiness, a place of no light and no darkness. He had been there again, plunging through the surface of thinking, knowing the taut yielding, his fists in her hair, the scream of time stopped.

"Maan,* she whispered. The silky warmth of her moved. She stirred lazily. Outside, somewhere on the flat, a dog was barking, A car passed the house. She touched her fingers to his mouth, glad you came"

He turned, lifting on his elbow. Her fingers trailed down across his bare shoulder and, in the dim light, her hair was loose, flared black against the white pillow. Darkness deepened over the flat of her stomach and he breathed heat, sweetness, the smell of whiskey, A trace of moisture shimmered on the curve of her mouth. Her breath had been his breath, her heart the beat of his heart. It had been more than taking. It had been complete surrender. The pleading came back, the cry of loneliness.

"Maan," she asked, "Are you glad you came?"

"Yes,"

"Was I good, Maan?"

"Yes," he said. "You were good," He let his voice trail off. The words were nothing. There was no way to say what had happened. Sky is big. That said nothing. But before he could even try to tell her what he was thinking her mood changed.

She said abruptly, "Give me a drink. Light me a cigarette"

"Listen * Maan said, "What's the matter?"

"Nothing, Just give me a drink. Give me the bottle"

He started to argue but she insisted and finally, giving up, he turned, picking up the fifth* She took it and he tried not to watch her drink* It was wrong, like a picture hanging crookedly on a wall. He lit cigarettes. She handed him the bottle and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. Then, taking a cigarette, she inhaled deeply, the tip glowed red,

"Geet," Maan asked, "did I say something wrong?" "No"

He took a drink himself, put back the bottle, shrugged. Smoke curled into the air. There was just the sweaty still¬ ness.

"I don't get it," he said finally.

"You wouldn't."

She stared up at him.

"People like us don't have love affairs" she said suddenly. "We just go to bed * She breathed smoke, "Look at this rotten little shanty, nothing but a goddamned dump*

"Don't make it ugly, Geet "

"All right* She asked for the ash tray, "Maan, tell me something"

"What?"

"Anything, How come you're like you are?"

"It's not very exciting"

"Tell me anyway"

"Okay," he said. "I was born here in xxx Junction. We raised chickens. At least my mother did. When the old man was sober, which wasn't too often, he worked in the woods with a logging outfit while I was in the Navy and out in xxx, he wrecked his car on the River. He killed himself and he killed nay mother too."

"I'm sorry."

Maan shrugged. "I never missed the old man. When I was a kid, I was just somebody for him to hit"

"Why did you come back here?"