The Eyes of the Beholders - A. C. Crispin [50]
And, for a wonder, at just the right moment, she caught up the skirt of the red dress and executed a perfect curtsy!
He held her fingers, supporting her as she rose, then let them go at exactly the right second. “I can’t believe it,” he said, sounding, even to his own ears, quite witty and urbane. “Someone else who loves old romances? I thought I was the only one who still read novels like The Scarlet Pimpernel!”
She laughed, her teeth flashing. “Guilty as charged, kind sir. As a matter of fact, I not only read The Scarlet Pimpernel, I danced it once upon a time.”
“A dancer!” He took in her long, graceful neck, her muscled legs, and nodded. “I should have known.”
The wind struck her again, and this time she shiv ered. “Oh my,” she said, looking around them. “I’m afraid we’ve missed the last of sunset.”
“Are you cold?” he asked, wishing he had a jacket that he could offer her. Then perhaps she’d stay a little longer.
“To be honest, I am,” she admitted. “But I’d love to talk to you more. It’s not every day that I meet a member of the aristocracy. Could I buy you a drink?”
His pass was good until midnight. “I’d like that,” he managed, and he gallantly took Paula’s arm, realizing for the first time that she was actually picking him up—that this beautiful woman was interested in spending time with him, with all-elbows-and-knees, lumpy-Adam’s-apple Will Riker. For a brief, devout second, he thanked all the gods in the universe that his complexion was, for once, fairly clear.
They drank synthehol together, first giving the traditional toast “To the Ferengi!” because the Ferengi had invented the drink, which relaxed and mellowed a person like ethanol, but the effects of which could be voluntarily dismissed by the imbiber.
Then they talked for hours, of books they’d read and music they’d enjoyed and plays she’d seen. He discovered that she’d been a ballerina but that a persistent knee injury had ended her career. She told him about the ballets she’d danced, and he told her about what it was like to see the sun on the snows of Mount McKinley from a nearby peak.
Finally, he realized that it was nearly time for his pass to end, and he had just time enough to report back to the Academy. “I have to go,” he said regretfully. “I wish I didn’t, though.” He hesitated, then took the plunge. “Uh … look, do you think we might be able to see each other again? I don’t know anyone in San Francisco except other cadets, and this has been …” He smiled and shrugged. “Wonderful,” he finished.
“I’d love to see you again, Will,” Paula said seriously, and she gave him her address. “Come over the next time you get a pass. Just give me twenty-four hours notice, okay?”
“Is that so you can chase out all your lovers?” he asked, greatly daring.
Paula smiled. “Oh, no, I never chase them. When they become tiresome, I feed them to my Aldeberan shellmouth, Archibald.” She glanced again at the chrono. “Now run—you don’t want to be late!”
Riker did run, nearly all the way back to the towers of Starfleet Headquarters, and past them to his dormitory. Only part of the reason he was running was to be sure to make his deadline. The main reason was that he was so excited, so full of energy that he couldn’t just walk! He felt like shouting aloud in his exultation but managed to restrain himself.
She likes me! She wants to see me again! A woman like that, who could have anyone—!! His head spun with the wonder of it … the wonder of Paula herself.
And when I get that pass, I’ll be going over to her place. What will happen there? Will she want to go out? What if she wants to stay in? If she does want to stay in, will we just … talk? he wondered as he undressed. That would be wonderful, but something