"Madeleine E Robins - Abelard's Kiss" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robins Madeleine E)

It took Beatrice a moment to understand what Susannah was talking about.

"Put it back in the vat or something, I suppose. Recycle the ingredients.
Something. Really, Susannah," Beatrice drawled. "It was only a toy."

She wasn't expected to care, Susannah knew. She was supposed to change
fascinations as Beatrice did, just one step behind. She shook her head and
changed the subject back to Beatrice's new lover.

When they were putting on their coats, Beatrice regarded Susannah with the old
look: satisfaction wanting to flaunt itself. "Susah, you must come meet him.
When can you come out to Tamerlane?"

She faltered, thinking of the work on her desk, the reports in her briefcase
waiting to be taken home. Then Susannah surprised herself. "Tonight. I can come
tonight, after work." And do what? Fight free of the place with Abelard tucked
under one arm? Ridiculous. Still, "Tonight," she said.

"I won't say good-bye, then," Beatrice said. "I'll pick you up at six!" She
smiled again, suddenly irresistible and childlike. "Ooo, Susah, wait till you
see!" And then was gone.

Flying out to Tamerlane, Susannah let Beatricers chatter wash over her like
warm, scented water. Potter waited at the door to receive their coats and lead
them to a different small den. Susannah wondered briefly if Beatrice had a suite
of mores for each lover she took: row on row of white rooms with the small of
running water and one green vine in a whit e ceramic pot. She settled herself in
a deep soft chair and sipped wine, thinking. A young man, very tall and
muscular, with a face of masculine prettiness and a slow, assured walk, joined
them. Susannah noted that he was as besotted with Beatrice as she was with him.

"Susannah, this is John." Beatrice pulled the young man down to sit beside her
on the sofa; their fingers found occasions to touch, and the air between them
rippled as though superheated. Susannah looked away uncomfortably, embarrassed.
When Potter announced a call for Beatrice the lovers rose together and left the
room. Potter looked at Susannah as if she were part of some vulgar conspiracy,
then he too left. Susannah could hear Beatrice's soft murmuring from the
antechamber, the click of the phoneset replaced in its cradle, but neither
Beatrice nor John returned. She thought she heard more murmurings, the soft
sighing of silk against skin and skin against skin. Her face warmed as she
realized that Beatrice meant her to hear, wanted her to hear. Probably thought
it was a great gift to her poor friend Susah, she thought in disgust.

She rose and left the room. If anyone stopped her, she would say she was looking
for the lavatory. No one stopped her. It took her three tries to find the right
corridor, the right door. When she entered the room she found it empty; the
futon and white rugs had been rolled up and piled on one side, the vine trailed
unwatered from its dusty pot. The air was still and musty. She walked across the
bare floor and opened the door to the inner room carefully, afraid she might