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we . . . see your room?”
    It stood up silently. This part it understood.
    She walked demurely beside Jimmy, admiring his grace. “You get a lot of exercise?” He shrugged. “Swimming? Tennis?”
    “I do those.” Of course it could lie in bed all day and stay in perfect shape—or any shape it wanted. It was exactly the shape Jimmy had been when it dissected him.
    They went through the library, yard after yard of books with uniform leather binding, into the main hall, parquet floor under a domed skylight of stained glass. Jimmy led her up wide curving steps to his floor, the third.
    “Big place,” she said. “Are you an only child?”
    “Not a child.” He opened the door to his bedroom.
    “I suppose not.” There was an incongruous hospital bed in one corner of the large room, and an elegant four-poster. It was still rumpled, the remains of breakfast on a serving tray. The wallpaper was beige silk. Double glass doors led to a balcony. She crossed the room and opened the doorsand stood in the fresh breeze, salt air and flowers. Below her, two men were working on the formal gardens.
    Behind her, Jimmy said, “Take off your clothes and put them on the dresser.”
    “We don’t waste time, do we?” She stepped back into the room. “Why don’t you take yours off first?” She went back to the door and locked it.
    Jimmy pulled off his white cashmere sweater and the T-shirt beneath it, and stepped out of his sandals and white ducks. Hard muscles and a small penis, which evidently hadn’t taken notice of her yet. He lay down on the bed.
    She sat on the bed and ran a teasing finger down his chest and abdomen. When she touched his pubic hair, the penis sprang up like a tripped mousetrap.
    “Oh my.” It was a little larger than average, but not so big as to be intimidating. She held it, warm in her hand and rigid as a candle, and leaned over to lick it and take it in her mouth, very European.
    “Take off your clothes,” Jimmy said, “and put them on the dresser.”
    “Yes, sir.” She smiled, realizing it was a stock phrase he must have learned from doctors examining him here. She undressed langorously, folding her clothes, carefully rolling her stockings. She turned her back to him when she stepped out of her knickers, discreetly applying saliva. She didn’t expect the preliminaries to be elaborate.
    She felt Jimmy’s clasp on her waist and started to say something—and then there was a horrible stab of pain that forced the breath out of her. She gritted her teeth against screaming. “No, Jimmy! No! That’s the wrong place!”
    He withdrew obediently and she turned around, holding onto his penis, trying not to panic at the string of bloody mucus. “Let’s wash this off and—”
    He picked her up like a large doll and threw her onto the bed.
    It was a good thing she’d left the glass doors open; thegardeners heard her screams. Bad thing that she’d locked the door. By the time they had beaten it open, Jimmy was standing at the end of the bed, naked and unaroused, staring placidly at Dutch, who had crawled to the far corner of the large bed, cowering and whimpering and bleeding.
    They knew better than to call the police. The one who spoke the best English called Mr. Berry at his law office while the others helped Jimmy dress and led him down to the pool. The Mexican cook and one of the male nurses tended to Dutch.
    Mr. Berry showed up in ten minutes, bearing his most potent weapon, the checkbook. He listened to Dutch while she quieted her sobbing and haltingly described what had happened.
    He was extremely sympathetic. Of course she was the victim here, but the law was complicated. Jimmy was, after all, a minor, and an unscrupulous lawyer might claim that she had seduced him.
    She looked him in the eye, resolute through tears of pain. “I did start to seduce him. But then he raped me, two places. Should I go to the police?”
    Mr. Berry asked the others to leave the room. In a half hour, an ambulance