Hienie sat down, holding the jar on his knee. “It’s applejack,” he said, watching her closely.
She sat down close to him and put her hand on the jar, just above Hienie’s hand. “Applejack?” she repeated.
“That’s right,” Hienie said, shifting his hand further up the jar. For a moment they touched. He felt the coolness of her flesh against his. Deliberately she took her hand away and put it in her lap. Hienie began to breathe heavily. He was going to give her the works even if she squawked her head off.
She smiled at him. She had a very nice smile. “I’ve never had applejack before. It’s a nice name, isn’t it?”
A tight little grin settled on Hienie’s mouth. He got up and went over to the little wash-basin. He took a glass and washed it carefully, and half filled it with liquor. All right, if she was crazy, and she got hot on booze, he’d risk the experiment. The longer he was with her the less he thought of Joe’s yarn.
“Try it, baby,” he said, “you’ll find it a tough drink all right.”
She looked at the glass, reached out, and again her slim fingers touched his. It affected Hienie like an electric shock. He shivered, standing against the wall of the ambulance, watching her.
She held the glass close to her lips. “It has a nice smell,” she said. Tilting her head, so he could see the white column of her throat, she began to drink. Hienie stood transfixed. The raw spirit slid down her throat like water.
Hienie said: “For Gawd’s sake—how did you do that?”
She held the glass towards him. “It’s nice. I’m so thirsty. May I have some more?”