had so responsive an effect on other Western women, denying herself to him because of a peculiar Western feminine wish to be considered an artist. It required the patience of a guru to await her submission. She must be taught not to goad him.
When she returned he was pacing the room, whistling softly between his teeth as some men did when impatient for lovemaking. He smoothed back her hair, first with the comb and then with his hands, looking into her eyes. "I will take you to India. Maharajas will send you jewels big as cherries and we will tie them as fruit to the trees in our garden."
His sandalwood scent drugged her. Was it true, as he said, that Hindu men are a unity of man and woman because their religion teaches them about a woman's needs in lovemaking?
"I will wind you in silken veils and teach you the truths of prana, first principle of life and love," he intoned.
A dragonfly thought of resisting lighted and winged away.
"Come, my golden one," he was saying in low melodious persuasion, "let us accept."
It was as if, she told herself later in the bleaching light of the theatre makeup mirror, he wanted to give her pleasure. Hers would be his. He said it was their "love duet." But he was the premier danseur and certainly knew more than the five positions! Marveling again at the variety of his caresses, she conceded his consideration and blamed her lack of ecstasy on the fact that it was a first lesson. He had told her afterward that, according to the Kamasutram of Vatsayama, a Hindu religious book of love, a man unites a woman to him, only then does a woman become truly united to a man. Well, it had been interesting; the next time maybe she would feel love.
There was no time to bead her eyelashes, a black line would have to do, though she hated not having her makeup perfect. No time for warmup.
I'm warmed up enough!
"You'll have to hurry," Cleo ordered.
She tested the tension of the ankle ribbons, tucked in a loose end, stretched her arms, jumped up and ran her hands professionally up the taut pink silk tights, examined her teeth for lipstick, licked her tongue over them, and dashed to make her cue.
"You're late, Claudel," the stage manager snapped as she passed.
