Give me the other one." Joanna disregarded the slightly hurt look of George as she took the strange flower out of his hand."I've seen one of those in a book..." George's voice trailed away, his expression concentrated. "Aren't they believed to be extinct? 'The Trojan's Gift' it is called, as far as I remember ... Didn't the missionary Frederico Bagnalo describe it to Linné before he settled down amidst the Sioux, starting a family? If I could only..." That's enough, George," Joanna's stern voice interrupted the useless botanic lecture. It was time for business here, not some dusty stuff out of old books. She turned towards the patient smoker again, presenting him a prepared check. "I'll give you this for your lands. It will be more than enough for this worthless piece of rock," Joanna showed him a check with a ridiculously low number of zeroes on it. She would make a fortune out of this loinclothed idiot."You have to eat the flower," the Indian answered her offer, yet again unmoving. Our thighs were jammed together and we even touched at the calf. I had to exert extreme discipline to stop from pulling her into my arms and kissing her. If we had got that far, I felt we couldn’t have stopped and there would have been a scandalous scene in public.Anyway, we managed to keep it under control and after an hour of incessant talking and glancing furtively into each other’s eyes and at each other’s body, we walked back to the house. We instinctively held hands and then dropped them, because this was her area, where everyone knew her and he couldn’t afford suddenly to be seen, smitten, with someone she had only just met.I wondered how long we could keep up the screens when we got indoors, but she seemed to relax as soon as we got in, because her daughter was sitting in the kitchen with her boyfriend. They were twenty-something and she was a modern version of her mother: equally buxom and radiant but with the younger woman’s extra licence to thrill. Her jeans and top were.
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