The Hormone Factory Read Online Free PDF

Dauphine—apparently an inescapable ingredient of any get-together at the Levines’—I offered to run Rivka home. It had been quite a night for me; I’d felt rather intimidated in the company of people who dropped the names of philosophers, writers, and scientists the way we might talk about different breeds of livestock. Rivka was clearly in her element there. I’d managed to snag a seat next to hers during the recital, and my whispered crack about the imposing dimension of the Dauphine’s backside as she lowered herself onto the diminutive piano stool sent the girl into an uncontrollable fit of the giggles. It had been enough to overcome any initial misgivings, and she unhesitatingly accepted my invitation to take her home.
    Frank, my chauffeur, was waiting in the car outside. I had been planning to drive home after the party, but meeting Rivka had made me change my mind.
    “Have you ever been for a drive along the Amstel River at night?” I asked her as I followed her down the stairs.
    “No,” said Rivka, “I’ve never ridden in one of those things in my life. Do you really own an automobile?”
    The sight of my Lancia made her giggle, and she insisted on shaking Frank’s hand—a ridiculous thing to do, of course—then danced around the car three times before enthusiastically diving into the backseat. When Frank started the engine she got so excited that she grabbed my hand in a tight grip. But unlike the other girls I had lured into my car before her, she didn’t put on a frightened little-girl act. She seemed to revel in the speed at which Frank negotiated the bumpy cobblestones and couldn’twait for him to really step on it once we were out of the city center. We zipped along the banks of the snaking river under a nearly full moon, the water showing barely a ripple in the crisp spring night.
    It was the most romantic backdrop you could ever imagine; Rivka’s childish enthusiasm, however, thwarted my efforts to create a correspondingly intimate mood inside the car. I found her extremely desirable and sexy, but she kept sliding open the little window between our compartment and the driver’s cab to pepper Frank with questions about the engine, the RPMs, how often he had to fill up with gas or add oil. She could have been out on a date with Frank, for fuck’s sake! But Frank knew me well; he was a loyal employee. And so, once we were well out of the city, he stopped the car at a discreet distance from a sheltered thicket along the river, announced that the engine had to cool off, and offered to spread a blanket for us at the river’s edge on the other side of the bushes. I finally found myself alone with her, seated side by side on a blanket. I put an arm around her. She glanced at me brightly, then sighed, “This is so nice, two firsts in one evening! I’ve never been in an automobile before, and I’ve never sat on the banks of the Amstel at night. This is the life!”
    It made her sound so innocent. A young thing full of dreams, without any concept of the struggle it is just to keep your head above water. A blithe little flapper who’d never yet been forced to take off her rose-colored glasses.
    I smiled at her, brushing a stray curl off her face. “You’re so darn gorgeous,” I fawned, “that even the loveliest, most romantic setting doesn’t hold a candle to your beauty.” I started caressing her face, her neck, and then slowly drew closer, gazing deep into those lovely eyes, in which I read a mixture of excitement and surprise.
    We kissed a few times—cautiously at first, just sampling, tasting; then my tongue sought hers. Pressing myself up against her, I gently pushed her down onto the blanket. With her hand resting lightly on my back, I slowly tugged her blouse out of her skirt, stroked her soft, flat stomach, then calmly moved my hand upward, slipping beneath the satin of her bra to find her breast, until my fingers encountered a well-defined nipple, which I began playfully wiggling