Page 58 of Edge of Eternity (The Century 3)

She had asked all the wrong questions, she realized. She really needed to know why she had been invited and what might be expected of her--and whether the president would be there.

She looked at the woman at the next desk. Nelly Fordham was a single woman who had worked at the White House for a decade. She hinted that years ago she had been disappointed in love. She had been helpful to Maria from the start. Now she was looking curious. "'I don't have a swimsuit'?" she quoted.

"I'm invited to the president's pool," Maria said. "Should I go?"

"Of course! Just as long as you tell me all about it when you come back."

Maria lowered her voice. "He said there will be some other girls. Do you think the president will be there?"

Nelly looked around, but no one was listening. "Does Jack Kennedy like to swim surrounded by pretty girls?" she said. "No prizes for answering that one."

Maria still was not sure whether to go. Then she remembered Larry Mawhinney calling her an iceberg. That had stung. She was not an iceberg. She was a virgin at twenty-five because she had never met a man to whom she wanted to give herself body and soul, but she was not frigid.

Dave Powers appeared at the door and said: "Coming?"

"Heck, yes," said Maria.

Dave walked her along the arcade at the edge of the Rose Garden to the pool entrance. Two other girls arrived at the same time. Maria had seen them before, always together: both were White House secretaries. Dave introduced them. "Meet Jennifer and Geraldine, known as Jenny and Jerry," he said.

The girls led Maria into a changing room where a dozen or more swimsuits hung on hooks. Jenny and Jerry stripped off quickly. Maria noticed that both had superb figures. She did not often see white girls naked. Although blondes, both had dark pubic hair in a neat triangle. Maria wondered whether they trimmed it with scissors. She had never thought of doing that.

The swimsuits were all one-pieces and made of cotton. Maria rejected the more flamboyant colors and picked a modest dark navy. Then she followed Jenny and Jerry to the pool.

The walls on three sides were painted with Caribbean scenes, palm trees and sailing ships. The fourth wall was mirrored, and Maria checked her reflection. She was not too fat, she thought, except for her ass, which was too big. The navy blue looked good against her dark-brown skin.

She noticed a table of drinks and sandwiches to one side. She was too nervous to eat.

Dave was sitting on the edge, barefoot with his pants rolled up, paddling his feet in the water. Jenny and Jerry were bobbing around, talking and laughing. Maria sat opposite Dave and put her feet in. The pool was as warm as a bath.

A minute later, President Kennedy appeared,

and Maria's heart beat faster.

He was wearing the usual dark suit, white shirt, and narrow tie. He stood at the edge, smiling at the girls. Maria caught a lemon whiff of his 4711 cologne. He said: "Mind if I join you?" just as if it was their pool, not his.

Jenny said: "Please do!" She and Jerry were not surprised to see him, and Maria deduced that this was not the first time they had swum with the president.

He went into the dressing room and came out again wearing blue swimming trunks. He was lean and tanned, in great shape for a man of forty-four, probably on account of all the sailing he did at Hyannis Port on Cape Cod, where he had a holiday home. He sat on the edge, then eased himself into the water with a sigh.

He swam for a few minutes. Maria wondered what her mother would say. Ma would disapprove of her daughter going swimming with a married man if he were anyone other than the president. But surely nothing bad could happen here, in the White House, in front of Dave Powers and Jenny and Jerry?

The president swam over to where she sat. "How are you getting on in the press office, Maria?" He asked this as if it were the most important question in the world.

"Fine, thank you, sir."

"Is Pierre a good boss?"

"Very good. Everyone likes him."

"I like him, too."

This close, Maria could see the faint wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth, and the touch of gray in his thick red-brown hair. His eyes were not quite blue, she saw; more like hazel.

He knew she was scrutinizing him, she thought, and he did not mind. Perhaps he was used to it. Perhaps he liked it. He smiled and said: "What kind of work are you doing?"

"A mixture." She was overwhelmingly flattered. Maybe he was just being nice, but he seemed genuinely interested in her. "Mostly I do research for Pierre. This morning I've been combing through a speech by Castro."

"Rather you than me. His speeches are long!"

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