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of the room when his smile went. "Elizabeth."
"I know, I know."
"Elizabeth. You didn't."
"I really kind of did."
His eyebrows had rushed together to become one overpowering, disapproving unibrow. "Well, I am
sure, since the invitation came so easily and thoughtlessly tripping off your dulcet tongue, you can
un-invite him just as easily."
"It's only for a little while. Just till he gets his shit together."
"Oh, so twenty years, then?" he snapped. He tried to stomp toward me, but dry cleaning bags were
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everywhere and he was momentarily snared. I chewed on the insides of my cheeks and stared at him
with wide eyes as he stumbled toward me.Don't laugh don't laugh don't laugh .
His black eyes narrowed, and he stomped an errant bag, which deflated with a sadwhoooooooooffff .
"Are you smiling, girl?"
"No, Eric." Girl? That was a new one. "Listen, I could hardly turn him out into the street."
"Why not, exactly?"
"Eric! Come on. Look, I'll make it up to you."
"Too damned right you will," he muttered, and grabbed me by the elbows.
"You're just going to fuck me, right? You're not going to make me run a lint brush over all your suits or
anything horrible like that, right?"
"Be quiet." He pulled me in for a savage kiss and then tossed me on the bed and landed on me like a cat.
In a flash, one hand was up my skirt, divesting me of my tights, and the other was pulling at his own
pants. And while he was busy with all that, his tongue was busy in my mouth. I tried to help, to move, but
he was controlling everything, and so I lay there and, as they say to do, thought of England. Except I was
really thinking about his big dick and drooling at what he was going to do to me with it.
He pushed inside me and I wasn't ready, but I didn't give a ripe damn. We both grunted as we tried to
force friction where there wasn't much. He had stopped kissing me and had buried his face in my throat,
and my legs were wrapped around his waist. His shirt was still buttoned, and we both had our socks on.
He finally slid all the way home and I was able to pump back at him, and we found a sort of rhythm. It
was better, much better,way better itwas fantastic . I loved the way his hands felt on my body, strong
and frantic, and the way his voice sounded in my head:
Never let anyone else never never you're mine mine mine mine MINE MINE.
Pretty much just frantic. Then he stiffened against me, and even though I was miles away from coming, I
didn't mind. I knew he'd spend the next hour making it up to me.
He collapsed over me with a groan, and I laughed; my shirt was still on, too. But with scattered clothes
and all the plastic bags, the room looked like Filene's Basement on the day of a really good sale.
"Don't laugh at me, you horrible woman," he said without heat.
"Sorry, Eric. That was a real good lesson you taught me. Consider me chastened. Also, the Minnesota
Vikings are moving in tomorrow."
He groaned again. "You're trying to kill me. You should feel deep shame."
"Ha!" I looped my legs around his waist and tickled him behind his ear, in a spot I knew was sensitive.
"Ready to go again?"
"Kill me," he mumbled, slowly unbuttoning his shirt, but he couldn't hide the gleam in his eyes, or the
sudden, ah, surge of interest. "The state of Minnesota frowns on premeditated murder, you know."
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"The state of Minnesota would frown on pretty much everything that goes on in this house." I pulled off
my strawberry socks and threw them in the air. "Let's ride, partner!"
"They probably don't think much of suicide, either," he snarked, but then he was kissing me again, and I
pretty much lost the rest.
"What are you supposed to do again?" Jessica whispered.
"I told you, like, three times. Jeez, tune me out much?"
"There's a lot of trivia in your life I have to sift through."
"What am I, the six o'clock news?"
"Exactly!" she said, refusing to take offense. "Sometimes it's hard to remember what's important and
what's not so much."
"Very nice! Here& one-ten, one-eleven, one-twelve." We paused outside the closed door, which, like
all nursing home doors, tried to look homey with cards and such, and was anything but. No matter what
you did to them, they looked, felt, and smelled like hospitals.
I rapped gently and, when there was no response, pushed on the door. It wheezed open on pneumatic
hinges, and I could see an old lady sitting on the edge of the far bed.
She smiled when she saw us, her gums looking just like Baby Jon's.
"Uh, hi," I said, creeping in like a thief, Jessica right behind me. "I'm Betsy. This is Jessica."
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