"No--no. Please--"
The drunkenness ebbed slightly and his eyes emptied. They looked into
Rhoda's. She shivered. He took the neck of her brunch coat in his fist
and jerked downward. She had just come from the shower when she'd first
opened the door for Frank Corson, and the vicious denuding gesture left
her completely naked.
Dennis went clumsily to his knees, his arms around her, and he pulled
her to the floor. She sobbed, but the tears were gone now and they were
dry, wracking sobs.
"Undress me."
She fumbled with his jacket and pulled it off while he knelt there in
anticipation of he knew not what; wondering, wanting, knowing only an
urge he could not understand but which had become a compulsion.
She took off his necktie and unbuttoned his shirt. Frank Corson stirred
but did not regain consciousness. "Please," Rhoda said, "let me help
him."
In answer, Dennis put his arms around her and drew her to him. "We will
make love."
"Yes--yes, we will make love--"
The ring of the doorbell was like thunder in the room. Dennis tensed,
his eyes widened, and he got to his feet and stood swaying. Looking up
at him, Rhoda saw a trapped animal, but the excitement was still there
and she wanted to take him in her arms and hold him and protect him from
the world.
But he had forgotten her. A cunning sneer took the place of the
slavering animal look and he ran to the kitchen to reappear moments
later with a butcher knife in his hand.
The bell rang again. Dennis snarled at the door and, in some kind of
sheer ecstatic bravado, emitted a Tarzan roar.
Instantly a weight hit the door from the outside. It shuddered but did
not give. Dennis crouched, gripping his knife. Frank Corson staggered to
his feet and hurled himself groggily at the android. Dennis roared
again, pushed away and arced the knife at his throat.