And Robert Holton became the lover and ceased to be himself; his detached awareness was, for the time, submerged and forgotten.
He ran his hands over her, feeling the smooth skin of her shoulders, her thighs.... They kissed and began the act of completion.
To Holton it became a battle and a surrender, a taking and a giving; it became a fusion. He was no longer himself, he was enlarged; a giant in a world of giant sensations. He was no longer alone or incomplete.
Then the rhythm was found and the wild twistings and strugglings stopped. He was conquering now and, in the conquering, giving.
He entered her and to the rhythm of their fast-beating hearts, with a rush of sound like wind in his ears, he discovered the single world. Lights whirled inside his head, behind his eyes: they came in series—circles of sharp lights.
He was choking then, barely breathing, able only to cough and gasp. Sweat covered him; his hands clutched at her shoulders as though they were the only remaining solidity in a world rapidly disintegrating into sensations and fast-moving lights and a quick wind.
There was no time now. There was no memory. There was no reason. The struggle stopped and the moment came like fire.
Carla’s face was buried in his shoulder; she stiffened and then became relaxed, the battle finished and won.
Like fire it came and the wonder was achieved; a world was glimpsed and lost in a moment. Then, tide-like, the emotion stopped and withdrew. The ecstasy was gone and only two people were left in its wake, left on a high shore, exhausted, shipwrecked.
Robert Holton lay for a moment upon Carla’s still body, supporting himself with his elbows so that he would not crush her; he breathed deeply, taking in the air with great sobs. Beneath him Carla was quiet, at peace, her shuddering stopped.