sdelai literaturnyi perevod na russkii iazyk sleduiushchikh fragmentov: "That's another thing. I'm going to change that, too." "What will you be, then?" "Something I can do that means I'll be around you all day long. Day and night. Something. We'll figure it out at Fulton's Beachside." "Maybe we can be paid to make love." She laughed. "To each other. Then we don't have to go anywhere, do anything." They were silent for a moment. She nuzzled a kiss on his neck. "I'm being overly demonstrative." "The hell with it." He bent down and kissed her on her lips. Opening one eye, she saw a woman smile and quickly turn away. "You electrify me, you know that." "Uh-huh." From the very moment she had sat down beside him on the Eastern shuttle, he electrified her. A strange, powerful feeling had surged through her body, a feeling that he, too, admitted experiencing. Like two chemicals in separate containers reacting by osmosis. Was it random selection? Or did it have an inevitability about it, a design? Had it lain embedded, just beneath the level of conscious thought-- some life-changing force suddenly revealed through what appeared to be coincidence? Wasn't it everyone's secret wish? Everyone's search? Connecting was like finding the other half of one's self, the missing part. So why couldn't it have happened before we both were married? Why now? Providence playing practical jokes, she had told him. How else to explain it? I don't believe in providence, he had countered. What then? They decided, finally, on Kismet, and the hell with it. It was beyond questioning. It had happened. She looked into his eyes. They were rich brown, but sometimes in very bright light they were tan, like those of some droopy-eyed puppy, full of innocence. Sometimes long moments, maybe hours, passed as they locked onto each other's gaze and said nothing, as if it were the most concentrated excitement in the world. Which, of course, it was. Because of the movement of people in the lounge, her eyes drifted. A profile made her heart jump, but when the man turned fully, the face was unfamiliar. She nevertheless ducked her head below his shoulder. "What is it?" "I thought it was somebody we knew. God. I wish all that was over." "Soon," he said. "Will it be the same without the danger, the sense of adventure?" Thoughts like that troubled her. What happened after was as much on her mind as the impending wounds to be inflicted on Edward and Vivien. "We'll know when we get there," he teased. It always amazed her that the intensity of their conversation was mostly focused on themselves, their situation, their personal options, their love. As if nothing else was meaningful or existed--not careers or money or things. Only their unfortunate attachments intruded. They had this single dilemma: hurting Edward and Vivien and, of course, little Ben, Orson and Vivien's son. Affairs like this were usually triangles, another woman, another man. Theirs was a quadrangle. Counting Ben, a pentagon. Five lives. Now six. If only the others were mean-spirited, cruel, uncaring. "Looks awesome," a man said, standing before the window and watching the swirling eddies of snowflakes. The framed wall reminded her of a huge Jackson Pollock hanging in a vast gallery. It was not all monochromatics; there were colors in it as well, the reds, greens, and blues of airplanes' insignia. Apparently the powers who ran things were undaunted by the blizzard, and the periodic roar told them that planes were flying. "Maybe it would be easier to go away and never come back. Just disappear. Mr. and Mrs... What was that name again?" She shifted her eyes from the window. "Calvin Marlboro," he said. "But what would my name be?" He looked around the lounge, searching for a name. "How about Godiva?" She giggled, looking at the poster on the wall that hawked Godiva chocolates. "I'd like that. Can I ride through the streets naked on a horse?" "Only if I'm with you." "You think we can do it on a horse?" "Hell, we've done it everywhere else." That was another marvel of their relationship, the limitless sexual energy. That was why he had finally rented the apartment where they could have a place to be together. Not a moment was ever wasted. They were without inhibitions or secrets or barriers. They shared an intimacy so powerful that sometimes they seemed like one person. They had even tried to express themselves in written words; read aloud, the paper was quickly destroyed. A secret life. That was what they had, a rich, glorious, delirious secret life. When she thought about it, any resolution frightened her. Would what they had resist change? Yet it could not go on like this. Not now. Biology had mysteriously intruded. Had it been oversight or design? Or deliberate forgetfulness? He had asked for no explanations. "Does this happen to other people?" she asked, after they had been silent for a long time. "I hope so," he whispered. For a time it became oddly silent in the lounge, and the snow outside swirled in great clumps of white, obscuring any view. "Suppose they close the airport?" she asked. "They fly in this weather. They're fully prepared with all kinds of equipment." An ear-splitting roar reminded them, once again, that the planes were flying. Groups of passengers began to drift toward the entrance to the passageway. An old woman in a wheelchair was being moved through the knot of people, followed by a woman holding a baby. A group of men in uniform moved into the lounge. "We're lucky," said one of the men who wore a colonel's insignia. "The Eastern plane was delayed up north." "We're lucky, too," Lily whispered. "The luckiest two people on earth." "God, I'm happy." She tucked her arm under his and pressed closer. The agent announced that the plane was ready for boarding, and the passengers who were still seated stood up and joined the line near the passageway. "It's in the eighties in Miami," a woman said. People within earshot smiled, as if the remark had allayed their apprehension. "No sense getting up until the line thins out," Orson said. "You're so practical and brilliant," she teased. "That's why I fell in love with you. Your razor-sharp mind." "I thought it was my body." "I never noticed." She slid her hand downward under his raincoat and caressed him there. "Do you suppose we could figure out a way?" she giggled. "We've been very resourceful before." She looked around the lounge as though she were assessing the conditions. "You're crazy," he said. "Crazy for you." She sighed and removed her hand as her eyes roved through the lounge. "Sometimes I think someone is following us, watching." He followed her gaze, but the lounge was emptying. In their circumstances, she knew, paranoia was a natural condition. "Even though I know I haven't given Edward a single hint, not a moment's insecurity." "He could pick up vibes. Sometimes I truly believe that Vivien knows." "But you said you were a good actor." "It's not an easy part to play." "Especially in bed." His forehead wrinkled, but the frown was brief. "We agreed not to talk about that." "I'm sorry. Sometimes I think about it. You and her." "And you and Edward." "I'm not made for all this intrigue, the lies, the dissimulation. It's damned hard work." "You think I am? You think it's easy being with Vivien and thinking only about you? So far it's been a miracle." "We keep them secure, that's why." "And we've been awfully careful." He paused. "Almost." "It can't go on. Not now." "No." He shook his head. She could tell he was getting anxious. "You'd think they'd have gotten suspicious by now." "That would have been the worst thing that could happen. Not until we're ready to make the final break. Both of us at the same time. Flat- out honest. Cold turkey. We are dealing with two good people, people we once chose to spend our lives with, decent, sensitive people. We agreed that we would not draw out the pain--" "No matter what, it will hurt." She thought of Edward again and sighed. "We'd better go," Orson said, getting up, clutching her hand as they walked to the desk and then through the passageway into the plane. Most of the others had already settled into their seats. They chose two, midway in the aircraft. Although the row had three seats, she took the middle seat, leaving the aisle seat empty. She could not bear to be that far away from him. "The stewardess will think I'm foolish." "Who cares what she thinks?" he said. He was still edgy from their discussion, and she stroked his thigh while he looked out of the plane's window at the wall of falling snow. In her other hand she still clutched the stem of the little pink rose. "We met just like this," she said cheerfully. Always, when they discussed the others, it dredged up sadness and guilt. Recalling how they met always cheered them. The plane lurched slightly as it backed off from the passenger chute. Then the pilot made an announcement. "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen." The pilot's drawl had an air of sarcasm. "It's not like this in Miami, folks. This is no way to live. There'll be at least a thirty-minute delay as we go through de-icing procedures. I'm shutting off the No Smoking sign. I really feel sorry for you Yankees." A wave of laughter passed through the cabin. "Just get us the hell out of here," a man piped, causing another ripple of laughter. They could hear the jet's glow lumbering whine and see the backdraft scattering the snow as the plane taxied forward for a long time, finally stopping near one of the large hangars. Outside, men with hoses sprayed the wings with de-icing liquid. Unfastening her seat belt, Lily stood up, opened the overhead rack, and took out a blanket and two pillows. "Might as well get cozy," she said, placing the pillows behind them and covering them both with a blanket. "How do you get rid of this damned thing?" she said, referring to the armrest. He fiddled with it and slid it out, leaving no space between them. Turning slightly sideways, she ran her hand over his chest while his hand stroked her earlobe. "I don't need any de-icing," she giggled. "Me neither." "Four days of you. I warn you, I'll give you no rest." "Idle threats." "Not so idle." She slid her hand down and caressed his thigh. The stewardess came by, and Lily closed her eyes, feigning sleep. "She should see what I have," she whispered. "You're incorrigible." "I adore you." "Just adore?" "Beyond adore." "Like love?" "Beyond even that." "Beyond that?" "It's only a word," she said. She hugged him closer. "Will it be like this when we're together?" she asked. "We are together." "I mean permanently." "If not, we'll have gone through a lot of hell for nothing." He looked down at her. She raised her lips to his, parted them, and they kissed deeply. "Why you?" she asked. "Why you?"

sleduiushchii fragment: "Who cares what she thinks?" he said. He was still edgy from their discussion, and she stroked his thigh while he looked out of the plane's window at the wall of falling snow. In her other hand she still clutched the stem of the little pink rose. "We met just like this," she said cheerfully. Always, when they discussed the others, it dredged up sadness and guilt. Recalling how they met always cheered them. The plane lurched slightly as it backed off from the passenger chute. Then the pilot made an announcement. "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen." The pilot's drawl had an air of sarcasm. "It's not like this in Miami, folks. This is no way to live. There'll be at least a thirty-minute delay as we go through de-icing procedures. I'm shutting off the No Smoking sign. I really feel sorry for you Yankees." A wave of laughter passed through the cabin. "Just get us the hell out of here," a man piped, causing another ripple of laughter. They could hear the jet's glow lumbering whine and see the backdraft scattering the snow as the plane taxied forward for a long time, finally stopping near one of the large hangars. Outside, men with hoses sprayed the wings with de-icing liquid. Unfastening her seat belt, Lily stood up, opened the overhead rack, and took out a blanket and two pillows. "Might as well get cozy," she said, placing the pillows behind them and covering them both with a blanket. "How do you get rid of this damned thing?" she said, referring to the armrest. He fiddled with it and slid it out, leaving no space between them. Turning slightly sideways, she ran her hand over his chest while his hand stroked her earlobe. "I don't need any de-icing," she giggled. "Me neither." "Four days of you. I warn you, I'll give you no rest." "Idle threats." "Not so idle." She slid her hand down and caressed his thigh. The stewardess came by, and Lily closed her eyes, feigning sleep. "She should see what I have," she whispered. "You're incorrigible." "I adore you." "Just adore?" "Beyond adore." "Like love?" "Beyond even that." "Beyond that?" "It's only a word," she said. She hugged him closer. "Will it be like this when we're together?" she asked. "We are together." "I mean permanently." "If not, we'll have gone through a lot of hell for nothing." He looked down at her. She raised her lips to his, parted them, and they kissed deeply. "Why you?" she asked. "Why you?"