"Do you want to drive?"
"No, you drive. I'll sit here and look at your beautiful profile."
They drove to Rhoda's apartment—Frank couldn't afford one—and he put Rhoda at one end of the sofa and stretched out with his head in her lap. He unbuttoned her blouse, put a hand over her breast, and teased the nipple.
"Mr. Corson, you're a wolf."
"Kiss me."
"Well, I don't know," she teased.
He pulled her head down and she murmured, "Oh, darling...."
But he let go of her in the middle of the kiss and, when she straightened, the blank, thoughtful look was back on his face.
"Frank—what is it?"
The look stayed. "I don't know."