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God's sake, you're carrying on like some Victorian virgin." She
stopped and eyed the lowered head in wonder. "Ginger, you aren't a
. . . are you?"
    "No," came a dull voice. "The momentous occasion took place in
the back of a van during my junior year in college. It wasn't a big
deal; in fact, the anticipation was better than the actual
event."
    "But things got better?"
    Virginia's direct gaze pinned Diane. "Look, I am not very good
with men. I am not very good with people. Give me machines; at
least you know where you stand. It's either on or off, and when
it's on, there are no surprises."
    She took a deep breath, then answered Diane's unspoken question.
"It was in graduate school. I was madly in love with Cal Jacobs. We
were working on our dissertations. I made it, he didn't. Briarcliff
picked me, not him. Everything fell apart. Jealousy replaced love,
if love was what we had.
    "A man seems to have a difficult time accepting a woman who
surpasses him educationally, intellectually, and monetarily. I have
more fingers than I have had sexual encounters. I guess I am still
a virgin."
    Diane eyed the two cigarettes burning in the ashtray, grimaced,
and stubbed them both out. "Somehow I thought it would be easier
for a woman like you. You meet so many men, travel to exciting
places, have a highly respected job. You're earning a fantastic
salary. I thought your life would be just a whirl of erotic,
stimulating encounters."
    Virginia gave a humorless laugh. "I wish it were. It's me. I've
always been a loner, and when you're alone, every emotion echoes
louder. You learn to control those echoes."
    "How loud did the Bandit make your emotions echo last
night?"
    "They screamed," she confessed. "He was . . . he was slow and
easy and confident and experienced." Her mind instantly replayed
the erotic highlights of her balcony tete-a-tete.
    Virginia could feel the strong fingers that had caressed the
supple length of her spine. A warm rush of heat washed over her
skin. Her breathing became labored, and she swallowed convulsively,
trying to ignore the tingle in her breasts.
    "He made me feel like . . . like the most desirable woman in the
world. If he had asked, I would have gone to bed with him." Her
eyes followed the intricate rose pattern on the stainless-steel
spoon.
    "That's a healthy admission." Diane grinned as she refilled the
coffee mugs.
    "Last night was physical. We were two strangers who overreacted
to the fantasy of the evening," Virginia countered, her voice and
features quite serious. "We became our costumes, and I'm no Playboy
bunny."
    "Listen, Ginger, last night turned out to be a very important
turning point for you. For once you were not a glass of water:
colorless, odorless, and tasteless. You were..." Diane picked up
the spoon and tapped the white china cup. You were like coffee:
rich, aromatic, exotic-and stimulating. Now tell the truth, don't
you feel the better for it?"
    "The only thing I feel good about is knowing that the Bandit
does not work at AVELCOMP."
    "Why did that sound more like a moan than a cheer?"
    "All right, maybe I am a little sad," she admitted with obvious
reluctance. "Yes, last night was erotic and stimulating, and I felt
... I felt more like a woman. But it was all fantasy,
Diane," Virginia stated evenly. "I deal in reality, and I am
absolutely positive that I could never repeat last night's
performance."
    "A strictly enforced diet of reality is very bland, very
repressive." Diane sighed. She studied her poppy-tinted fingernails
for a long moment, closed her eyes, and smiled. "Ginger..." The
blue eyes opened and energetically focused on her victim. "I am
going to make sure you don't leave California the same way you
arrived. I am going to spice up your life if it kills the both of
us."
    "Diane, please-"
    "You will thank me, I promise," she continued in her rapid
staccato. "We'll start out slow ... we can change your image by
steps rather than leaps."
    Diane's gaze drifted around the elegantly