"Kate Wilhelm - Julian" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wilhelm Kate)

one side of the drapes opened in an irregular way, as if the fabric had
caught on a chair or something and had remained like that, unnoticed by the
occupant. Working carefully Julian focused on the opening, then brought the
room into sharp view. He could see little of it, the foot of the bed, a
space, part of a dresser, the alcove where the bath was. As he studied it, a
naked woman appeared. She came from the side of the bed, stopped at the
dresser.

She was doing something in front of the mirror, her hands out of sight, only
her back profile visible, from her head down to her calves. He couldn't see
the floor. She was skinny, but his heart was pumping hard anyway, because a
skinny naked lady was better than no naked lady at all. He wanted her to turn
around and face him. Again and again he wiped his hands on his jeans,
although his mouth was dry; his eyes were burning from not blinking. He had
seen his sister, of course, but she was only eight and that was different. He
had seen pictures of naked ladies, and that was different too. This was the
real thing, this counted. He was afraid to touch the telescope now, for fear
he would move it, lose her, and have trouble finding her again. Her hair was
long and brown, lank, it looked oily; there was a hollow place on the side of
her hip. She was almost as flat as he was. She moved back a step and he
caught his breath as her breast in profile came into his range. It was like a
small bag, not the high, nipple-pointed breast of the ladies in the
magazines. She was old, he decided, and again, it was better to see an old
naked lady than no naked lady at all. Now she turned and walked away from
him, and he wiped his hands as he stared at the way her ass moved when she
walked.

He leaned back weakly and became aware of his heart pounding and the
clamminess of his hands, and the dryness of his mouth. Also he had an
erection, and he couldn't do anything about it, because what if there was
someone out there in one of those rooms with a telescope watching his every
movement?

He looked at the room, still empty, and wondered how long she would be in
there, wondered if she was on the john or in the shower, wondered if she
would reappear with a towel around her, or a robe on. The pounding in his
chest and the pounding in his groin became one painful rhythmic beat. Maybe
she had an accident, fell in the shower, was drowning. His head began to
ache, and his eyes were tearing. When he felt he could stand it no longer,
she stepped into view once more, dripping, her hair streaming water. She had
hair on her lower belly, glistening wet, and little rivulets of water running
down her smooth rounded stomach; her breasts were pink and...

Suddenly he ejaculated and involuntarily knocked the telescope askew. When he
could train it on the motel window again, she was gone. Exhausted, he threw
himself on his bed, face down in the pillow, and he fell asleep.

He woke up in a paroxysm of terror, fighting the sheet, battling his pillow,
gasping for air. He had been dreaming, had a nightmare, but there was no
memory of it. He went to the bathroom and washed his face, then got on clean