"Well, she never walks in," Roger said. "Nobody ever bothers you here."
"You mean you've had strange girls in here before?"
"No, I didn't mean that," Roger said.
The girl giggled. "I know. I'm teasing." She opened her eyes and looked at him solemnly. "I'm a big tease."
Roger said nothing.
"Though not that way," Molly said. She paused. "Do you know what I mean?"
"I'm not sure."
She smiled briefly, and then sat up suddenly, swung her legs over the side of the bed and said, "I'm getting your bedspread all wrinkled. Your landlady won't like that a bit. I mean, she may not object to girls in your room, but I'll bet she doesn't like a wrinkled bedspread or lipstick all over the pillow."
"Well, she's never found any lipstick on the pillow," Roger said, and smiled.
"No, and we're not going to give her any to find, either." She padded to the dresser in her stockinged feet, opened her bag, took out a Kleenex, and leaned close to the mirror. She wiped off her lipstick quickly, and then put the tissue back into her bag. "There," she said, and smiled at him. He was beginning to dislike the way she was making herself so comfortable, the way she was moving around the room so easily and naturally, as if she owned the place. He watched her as she went to the bed and pulled back the bedspread and fluffed up the pillows. "There," she said again, and sat on the edge of the bed.
She smiled at him.
"Well," she said, "here we are."
The room was silent again. She stared at him levelly.
"Do you want to make love to me?" she asked.
"That's not why I brought you up here," he said quickly.
The smile was still on her face, but it seemed to have weakened somewhat, as though his words had embarrassed her, or injured her. He didn't want to make her feel bad, and he certainly didn't want to hurt her. But at the same time, he didn't particularly feel like getting involved with her, not in that way, not with a girl as plain as she was.
"I mean, I didn't bring you up here to take advantage of you," he said gallantly. "I only wanted to show you the room because you said maybe you-"
"I know."
"-might want to move if it was a good-sized room."
"It's a good-sized room," she said.
"But, believe me, I wasn't planning-"
"And it's a very comfortable bed," she said.
"-on taking advantage of you, if that's what you thought."
"That's not what I thought."
"Good because-"
"I didn't think you'd take advantage of me."
"Good because-"
"It wouldn't be taking advantage of me," Molly said flatly.
He looked at her silently.
"I have a lot to give," she said.
He did not answer her.
She stood up suddenly and pulled the flaps of her blouse out of the black skirt. Slowly, she began unbuttoning the blouse. There was something ludicrous about her performance. She stood alongside the bed with her head erect, the flaming red hair burnished in the glow of the single lamp on the dresser, her hands slowly unbuttoning the blouse, staring at him, her eyes serious and solemn in the plain face, the fake eyelashes, the penciled eyebrows, the pointed fake breasts in the padded bra slowly revealed as her hands worked the buttons at the front of the blouse. She threw the blouse and the bra onto the bed behind her and then unzipped the skirt and stepped out of it. He felt nothing. He looked at her as she took off the rest of her clothing and moved toward him, an oddly shaped woman with tiny breasts, large bursting nipples, wide in the hips, far too wide in the behind, thick in the thigh and ankle, there was nothing exciting about her, nothing attractive about her, he felt no desire at all for her. She moved into his arms. She was very warm.
They whispered in the night.
"I sometimes feel all alone in the world," she said.
"I do, too."
"I don't mean alone just because I have no parents, or because Doris went off to Hawaii, not that way, not that kind of alone. I mean really alone."
"Yes."
"Alone inside," she said.
"Yes."
"Even when I'm surrounded by people. Even when there are people everywhere around me, like in that bar tonight, before I met you."
"I almost didn't come over to you."
"Because I'm not pretty," she said.
"You're beautiful," he said.
"No, please…"
"Yes."
"Please don't lie to me."
"You're the most beautiful girl I've ever known in my life."
"Ahhh," she said.
"Yes."
"Ahhh."
"Molly, you're beautiful," he whispered.
"I'm a good lay, is what you mean?"
"Yes, you're a good lay, but-"
"Mmmm, and that's it."
"No."
"Yes, that's all of it. Roger, please, I know."
"How do you know?"
She shrugged. "You're a man. I know what men want."
"That's not all I want," he said.
She moved closer to him. She buried her face in his shoulder. Her lips vibrated against his skin as she spoke. "You're the only man who ever told me I was beautiful," she whispered. She paused for a long time. "Roger?"
"Yes?"
"Tell me."
"What?"
"Tell me again."
"What?"
"Don't make me beg."
"You're beautiful," he said.
"You embarrass me," she whispered.
"I want to hold you," he said.
"Ahhh."
"I want to kiss you."
She moved into his arms. "What's this?" she whispered.
"Nothing."
