Surrounded

celebrity."
        "Impressed?"
        "Terribly."
        "Want my autograph?"
        "On an eight-by-ten glossy."
        She kissed his chin. "Have you ever been to bed with a celebrity?"
        "Never."
        "Now's your chance," she said.
        "Are you propositioning me?"
        "That's it exactly."
        In the master bedroom she undressed him, and then he returned the favor. The buttons on her knit suit parted easily. The flimsy material seemed to melt away from her, flowing down across her full curves and puddling at her feet.
        His voice was soft, almost inaudible, when he said, "You are beautiful, Elise."
        "Do you believe everything you read in the papers?" she asked.
        Later, they went out to the kitchen and made dinner. He put the steaks on and mixed the salad dressing while she cleaned and chopped the lettuce, celery, and carrots. They had lots of cheap wine and finished with Tia Maria and coffee.
        "I'm whoozy," she said.
        "So am I." "
        "Defenseless," she said.
        "Are you really?"
        "Utterly defenseless."
        He took her back into the bedroom and helped her slip out of her comfortable quilted houserobe, and then he took advantage of her. It lasted longer this time, was slower but more complete for both of them.
        Well afterward, she said, "Oh, you got a telephone call from your father's lawyer."
        He rose up, leaning on one elbow, and looked at her. Her face was half hidden in purple shadows as smooth as steamed velvet, half revealed by the warm orange light of the bedside lamp. Darkness molded to her body and subtly emphasized the ripe lines of it. "You mean Littlefield called?" he asked.
        "Yes."
        "When?"
        "About one o'clock this afternoon." She was lying on her back, but she turned slightly to face him. The shadows retreated from her face.
        "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
        "I knew it would spoil the evening," she said. "I was horny. As you may have noticed. And I knew that if you had Littlefield and your father to worry about, you would never be in the mood."
        He laughed, cupped and. kissed one of her breasts. "What did the bastard want?"
        "I really don't know," she said. "You're to call him back. He left his home number in case you didn't get in until after five."
        "The hell with him," Tucker said, falling back against his pillows.
        Elise sat up and ran her hands through her long yellow hair, combing it into dozens of bright banners. "You'd better call him, Michael. Maybe something has happened to your father. He could be sick or hurt."
        "Unless the old goat died," Tucker said, "I don't want to be bothered by Littlefield."
        "That's cruel," she said.
        It was, and it hurt. "But it's also true."
        "Call him back anyway," she said, tucking her bright hair behind her ears. Her ears were like delicate shells. "When you are finished with him, I'll have a drink ready for you." She waited, watching him closely. The reflection of the bedside lamp made a star in the center of each green eye. "You know, maybe your father has seen the light at long last."
        He laughed.
        "No, really. Maybe he's willing to let you have your inheritance."
        "Fat chance," Tucker said. "The old man never softens his stand once he's taken it. He just gets more adamant than ever. The only way I'll get what my mother left me is to fight him from one court to the next." There was uncontrolled bitterness in his voice, and his dark eyes hardened when he thought about his father.
        "You've gone through a couple of courts already," she said. "And you're no further ahead."
        "Sooner or later," Tucker said, "I'll get a judge who is not impressed with my father's name and money. An honest judge. And the old man's high-powered, high-priced lawyers will finally make a mistake…"
        She said nothing.
        He looked at her, knew pretty much what she was thinking, sighed loudly. "Oh, hell… I guess there's always the slim chance that he's sick. And if he's sick enough, he might decide it's time for him to give in on a few points." He got up and put on a dark blue silk robe. "I'm going to need that drink when I get back."
        "It'll be here," Elise said.
        He went down the hall to the den.
        
        Albert Littlefield, his father's most trusted attorney, had a wire-thin, reedy voice