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33

To me, an outsider living in the midst of Millennium, its people are more interesting than its philosophy. They are calm, friendly, and as far as I can tell, very competent at what they do. Yet even in the midst of what some call a "cult environment," they are very much individuals with their own personalities. The sketches I give you in these weekly articles are less than the people deserve. . . . 

"In the Midst of Millennium"
American Scene Magazine 
Duke Cochran

 

During his Dove assignment, Duke Cochran found his sex life nearly nonexistent, and sex was extremely important to him. On tour he was constantly on the move. The rest of the time he was stuck at the Ranch, where the women seemed unlikely candidates, the facilities not conducive to seduction, and the nearest singles bar too far away. Lee Shoreff was the woman here he found most stimulating. She was both sexually attractive and married. The first was essential. The latter intensified his interest.

Twice he'd approached her, asking for an interview, and twice she'd claimed to be too busy. He knew better. She was afraid of him—afraid of his magnetism and sexuality, afraid to be alone with him.

He was newly returned from another long tour, what Lor Lu had termed the "Mississippi Tour"—New Orleans, Memphis, St. Louis, Davenport, and Minneapolis, with a side trip to Louisville and Cincinnati. Desperate in Memphis, he'd had a call girl up. She'd been reasonably talented and eventually enthusiastic, but the encounter had been—dissatisfying.

He'd examined the prospects of getting Lee Shoreff in bed. Besides sexual gratification, there was the hope of information that would lead to the real who behind Millennium. But she'd have to go with him to the guest lodge, to his room. Unseen. And if any trouble came of it, it would kill the whole setup. So he'd decided to forget about seduction. Instead, he'd interview her in depth—feed her the right questions and see how she responded. Surely he'd get at least a hint of what to look into next. She might even surprise him, and cooperate actively on an exposé. Might even lay him in her office.

* * *

It was 4:20 p.m. when he knocked at her office door. "Yes?" she called.

"It's Duke Cochran." He opened the door as he said it. "You still haven't given me that interview."

She looked at him. Get it over with, Lee, she told herself. "I suspect, Mr. Cochran, that you won't find it much of an interview. Much of what I do is confidential."

His gaze had turned to her wall screen, where she'd been playing with the chart. Reaching to her keyboard, she turned it off. "Sorry," she said, "that's part of what's confidential. And the most interesting part of what I do."

He grinned. "Part of what's interesting," he answered. "You're the other part, the major part: How you came to be here, what your life is like here, what you like and dislike about this place, and why. What you did before you got involved with Millennium. That sort of thing."

He pulled a chair to him and sat down on it backward, facing her. "So when can we get together? I want to very much, and I wouldn't be surprised if you ended up enjoying it too."

Her look and tone of voice were businesslike, as he'd expected. "I can give you one hour this evening, 7:30 to 8:30. I'll be coming back anyway, to finish off some things."

He got to his feet. "Thanks, Lee. I'll be here at 7:30 on the dot. I'm looking forward to it."

When he'd gone, she stared at the closed door for a long moment, then shook her head and turned the wall screen back on. She had trouble concentrating though, and left a few minutes early.

* * *

It seemed to her he must have been watching through the window in the elevator alcove, and seen her coming down the sidewalk. She herself used the stairs. Her office was on the third floor, and she believed in taking advantage of exercise opportunities. She'd hardly hung up her coat before he knocked. "Come in," she said cordially; she'd make the best of this.

He was grinning again as he entered, reminding her of a college jock, a Big Man On Campus. He was definitely attractive and very sexy, and unquestionably he knew it. Thought of himself as God's Gift to Women, she had no doubt. He hung up his jacket. Beneath it he wore a knit polo shirt well out of season. His arms were large and muscular, as if he worked out. His belt fitted snugly, with no fatty bulge. A hard body.

She pulled her gaze away, wondering if she'd stared. Two of her visitor chairs had desk arms, like a school desk, and he positioned one to face her from no more than five feet away. Closer than she preferred. Then he put a recorder on her work table, its pickup facing them, and smiling, sat down with an electronic notebook. He was, she thought, more attractive when he simply smiled. His grin had seemed aggressive.

She glanced at her wall clock. "It's almost 7:30. We might as well start. The ball's in your court, Mr. Cochran."

"Fine. I'll do a better job of this if we start at the beginning and move toward present time. Where were you born?"

"Good. I was afraid you'd ask when. I was born in Rochester, New York. Grew up there, went to school there, and went to college at Syracuse, only an hour and a half away."

"Whoa!" he said. "From the cradle to the university in what? Four sentences? I need more than that."

He took the interview over then, completely, and she discovered he was very good at what he did. When it occurred to her to look at the clock, it was 9:05, and he knew more about her early years than almost anyone. About her best friends in childhood, early boyfriends, stories of living in the Delta House . . . She hadn't told him everything, of course.

"My god!" she said, "It's after nine! And we never got close to Millennium! I really have to go home."

His smile was warm and reassuring. "But it's gone well," he said. "The early years are the most important, and I feel as if I really know you now. Next time we'll talk about your career before you came here. After that we'll talk about Millennium."

She felt a moment's uncertainty. "I really shouldn't spend more than one more evening on this."

"Two more should do it, or possibly one long one." He paused. "May I walk you home?"

"I . . . Yes, that would be all right."

Without speaking, he helped her on with her coat, then pulled on his own and they left. The hall and stairwell were somehow dreamlike, pregnant with—something. The place seemed deserted except for them, their footsteps surprisingly loud, the solitude subtly electric. He couldn't help thinking about sex on a desk with her. Her physical attraction went beyond explanation.

Neither spoke till they were outside walking. The night was mild, for the season and elevation—perhaps 15 degrees Fahrenheit, and still. The sky was clear and deep, the stars incredible. Duke put a gentle, gloved hand on her arm, stopping her. "Look," he said, pointing upward. "In a sky like that, you can see why it's called the Milky Way."

She nodded. "It's beautiful."

"My Norwegian grandmother called it Vintergata, said it meant the winter road. I thought of the Norse gods traveling it on sleighs across the sky." He paused. "Did you ever watch the northern lights when you were a girl?"

"Oh yes! From our summer place on Lake Ontario. There wasn't any city glow there, and we'd see them fairly often. I'd stand outside till I was shivering uncontrollably, it was so hard to stop watching."

He nodded. "My parents had a summer cottage on a small lake in northern Wisconsin. When there were northern lights, I'd row alone out to the middle and watch. It was magical."

When they started walking again, he took her gloved hand in his for a moment, then let go, as if realizing what he'd done. They were in front of her house within three or four minutes.

"I really enjoyed our evening," he said. "You're a—very nice person, Lee. It was a privilege to get to know you so well. I'll tell you what: You call me when you see an opportunity for our next talk."

He did grin then, and this time she found it not aggressive at all. "If I don't hear within a couple of weeks, I'll check with you at your office."

"Of course," she said.

He stepped away from her, backwards, gave a small salute, then turned and strode off down the sidewalk, Lee staring after him. Duke Cochran was a very attractive man, and nice after all. Slowly she turned and walked to the house.

It was the first time since she'd known Ben that she'd even for a moment thought of sex with anyone else.

 

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