With a throaty laugh that could have been carefully timed, she said,
"And I'm Margo. Come right in Captain."
Bill walked onto a white rug, and unobtrusively took in the rich
furniture Twenty First Century Modern, the warm brown of the logarithm
ruled walls, paintings in the style of Van Gogh, sharply angled table
lamps, the gold drapes at the windows.
"It was kind of you to come so promptly," Margo continued, settling
into a chair.
Bill brought his glance back to her. "Well, frankly, I was curious to
know what a perfect stranger could have in common with me."
She laughed indulgently. "Nasty of me, wasn't it?--taking advantage of
a human weakness." She gestured at Scotch and bourbon on the coffee
table. "I'll let you do us the honors, Captain. Bourbon for me."
Presently, glass in hand and a spreading warmth in him, Bill fixed
the girl with a quizzical look. "Tell me, Margo, just what is this
matter of utmost importance to both of us?"
She put her glass on the table, then sat back and Bill felt the full
impact of her dark lustrous eyes. "It's a business matter, Captain.
You've been recommended as a man of high purpose and dependability. As
the heir to my father's controlling interest in Intercontinental Lines
I am badly in need of a man with your experience to handle traffic
details."
Bill lifted a brow. "Intercontinental Lines? Never heard of it.
Exclusively airline traffic on Earth?"
"It's a new company formed under monopoly regulations. Of course, I
realize you're a spaceman, but staying on Earth would have its
compensations. You can name your own salary."
Bill leaned forward and mixed another drink. This was something
unexpected and pretty tempting too. No more fighting his fear of
space. He downed the drink in a few gulps, then stood up.
"Well, I--I'd like to think things over," he said with hesitation,
walking slowly to the window.
Margo followed, saying, "I don't mean to rush you, Bill--yet the
situation needs your experienced hand."
"I know, but my brother and I are all set to make a scouting trip to
Beta Quadrant."
Margo leaned against the window drapes, smiling with frank admiration.
"I know you are. How in the world you can take off from Earth and hit
a target far out in space is beyond me. Is it something like firing
artillery?"
The warm glow already suffusing Bill's senses took on added lustre
when he looked into her questioning eyes. Expansively, he began
drawing diagrams, and explaining the elements of space navigation.
"Now here's the trajectory my brother and I are planning to use," he
went on, drawing a complex curve with loading figures and fuel
consumption and point of contact with the Beta Quadrant.
When he paused once, Margo touched the gold sunburst emblem on his
arm. "That's fascinating, Bill, but making a trip like yours is all a
gamble. I'm not offering you a gamble. I'm offering you a sure thing."
"Yes, I realize that." Bill got to his feet. "But just the same I want
to think your proposition over, Margo."
She leaned toward him putting her hands on his lapels. "Bill, don't
risk your neck out there in space. I need you desperately in the
company."
Suddenly, Bill was electrically aware of cool, smooth arms sliding up
and around his neck and her soft red mouth within fragrance distance.
And he was exquisitely aware of the full soft length of her pressing
against him. The scent of jasmine reached him with bewitching stealth.
That was when he closed the gap to her mouth in a sudden rush.
Bill came out of a whirling state of pure feeling to hear the
visiphone buzzing insistently.
"The phone," he mumbled.
Margo opened her eyes dreamily, then comprehended. She walked over to
the phone, picked up the receiver.
After a moment she turned around looking at him questioningly. "It's
for you, Bill."