Excerpt from Sexton Sand (Sexton Chronicles IV)

Andy is getting his first lesson in magic from Sarah:

  Sarah sat on one of the benches and crossed her legs. His eyes automatically went to her knees before he remembered she was dressed more like a nun than the erotic dancer she usually dressed like, or even the plain Jane she tried to dress like in Sexton. The thought made him miss both Sexton, and her legs. “Please sit,” she said.
   He took a seat on the bench across the room from her. She looked like she was waiting for him to say or do something. It seemed to him that it should be the other way around—she was the teacher—so he said nothing.        He looked at her and waited.
   No sound came through the only window in the room. No sound came from her. They looked at each other for what seemed like a long time. He looked away to glance at the stuff on the table, but none of it seemed to make sense. There were balls, and blocks, and a candle or two. Just stuff. He looked at her again and smiled the smile of a man waiting for a bus or a doctor’s appointment in a room with only one other person.
   At least five minutes went by. He couldn’t take it anymore. With the grace of a Neanderthal he said, “What?”
   “Interesting.” She smiled.
   “What?”
   More time went by. He wanted to laugh, but the image of her eating his face came back and the urge to laugh faded. Maybe she was waiting for him to get up and play with the stuff on the table. That made sense. There wasn’t anything else in the room, and she obviously didn’t feel like talking. He hoped this wasn’t going to be a repeat of the however long he spent with Raj under the library. “Are we just going to sit here and stare at each other for a while? Because if we are, I think I’d be more comfortable if you wore regular clothes.”
   Her eyes carried amusement her mouth didn’t show. “You have failed the first test.”

   “God, I hate it when that happens!” He grinned. “What test?”

   “You did not read my thoughts. It is nothing. Don’t concern yourself with it.”

   That settles it, he thought. He was thinking about the chic thing: the one where there’s something obviously on their mind, but that six wild horses, three mules, and Uncle Sam in a hoop skirt couldn’t drag from their lips...and when asked, they said nothing. “What’s the deal with the stuff on the table?”