"Come here, big boy," she said quickly. When he turned to face her, she added, "keep your attention over here."
With an agreeable smile, he floated to her and, in obedience to her directions, lifted her into his arms. She put her lips to his, her hands gently caressing his cheek.
It was a shock. Tensor let out his pent-up breath explosively and ran his tongue over his lips, tasting the mixture of saliva and lipstick. What should have been moderately repulsive to him had been transformed by the chemical sympathy in his veins into something quite overwhelming. His eyes were bright and eager.
"It's a dirty trick and I feel like a jerk," she whispered sadly to him. "But what else can I do?"
"I beg your pardon?" Tensor murmured happily. "I do not understand you."
"Oh well," she breathed softly, smiling a crooked little smile. "Neither one of us will ever know when it happens. A pity to spoil it so soon, though."
In his unaccustomed confusion, Tensor could not follow her thought, but he could grasp the immediate situation. He grinned and nuzzled her affectionately, and decided to stay a while longer.
Curl was floating langorously in his comfortable focus, eyes half closed and glazed, mouth droolingly limp and hands carelessly askew. He formed his hyperimage to appear erect and neat—and with a politely interested expression—while he idly contemplated the telepathic picture being projected into his own mind.
"I see you've recovered," he said. "Splendid."