"Now, the professional hands of a masseuse, a woman I'd only known for a halfhour, were reawakening memories .that I'd buried under a landslide of need, an avalanche of ambition. Where did I know that touch? Who had stroked my body in just that way-firmly but lightly, rhythmically but capably? After a few minutes of puzzling over this half-forgotten sensation, I let my mind and body be lulled by
Laureen's expert touch and drifted into a hazy, half-waking state where impressions went slipping by like clouds across a summer sky. Suddenly I sat up on the massage table, my towel falling away, and I nearly shouted aloud, 'That's it! the man on the cross-country bus!'
"Good sense kept my mouth shut and I explained my sudden movement to Laureen as the result of a muscle twinge. We went on with
