Chapter 64

Merlyn had done her share of outrageous things in her life but this was definitely the topper. On a scale of 1 to 10, what she was going to do tonight was way up there, nudging the double digits.

She soaped herself slowy, langurously stretching out her leg the way she had seen movie stars do in Hollywood films, running the large froth-filled sponge up and down her silk-smooth thighs, her calves. When she got to the soles of her foot, it tickled unbearably and she shivered, clenching her fists.

The bath smelled so good, so warm, so fragrantly aromatic, she could have spent all night in here, pampering herself. She had done just that the first night they were here in Frisco. And Steve had spent most of the night with her.

Finally, they'd dozed off, and she had woken in the early hours to find they were lying in cold scummy water, the book Steven had been reading, The Entertainment Economy, floating gallantly in the bathtub, his reading spectacles perched on top of the soggy hardback like the eyes of a submerged crocodile.

After that, he refused to get into the tub with her. "See these wrinkles?" he'd say, pointing at his face and neck playfully. "I aged ten years that one night!"

She thought of Steven and smiled. He was a wonderful man. Kind, gentle, a graceful, unselfish lover. A man used to power, yet wise enough not to abuse it. She liked him very much. Had enjoyed this time they had spent together in Frisco as well as in Bombay. Had enjoyed the sex immensely. As well as the intelligent, mature conversations they had about everything under the sun.

But tonight, she was about to step beyond the circle of Steven's arms. She had no illusions about what she going to do tonight. He had made it crystal clear to her. And of course, she had already read the book, The Perfumed Garden, where everything was spelled out to the last letter. This was no drunken orgy they were going to attend. The Moon Mask Night. What was the phrase Steven had used? "An erotic transference." That was it. A mutual sharing of pleasures of the senses, not just touch, but sight, sound, scent, and above all, the emotions. Not a wild, manic, free-for-all orgy, he had explained carefully.

She did not have to do anything she did not want to do or have done to her. She could choose to simply watch without participating. But the truth was, there would be people all around her, beautiful, uninhibited people more adept in the arts of love than herself. And at precisely 12:06, the moment of fulmination of the moon phase, everyone would be obliged to either undress completely, or leave at once. Except for the masks, of course. They would be the only apparel worn after that point. And the celebration would begin.

The thought of it made her feel warm and cold both at once. She shivered again, deliciously. And wondered if she what she was feeling was truly fear or impatience.

Was there a difference? Unable to lie idle any longer, she drained the bath, stood up and took a quick, briskly cold shower.

Fifteen minutes later, she was slipping into the exquisitely delicate silver gown Steven had bought her especially for the occasion. When she emerged from the enormous closet, she found Steven already dressed and waiting. He looked ruggedly handsome.

"Showtime," he said.