Stacy's Dad Has Got It Going On

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Design: Selena Kitt Stacy’s Dad Has Got It Going on © August 2011 Giselle Renarde eXcessica publishing All rights reserved

Stacy’s Dad Has Got It Going On By Giselle Renarde

Chapter One Savannah took the stairs by twos. Her shoulder bag whacked her thigh all the way up to third floor and she couldn‟t find her apartment key fast enough. Stacy ought to be home by now, right? She couldn‟t wait to tell her roommate the good news: Chris, the scruffy hottie with the kick-ass orange dreads, had invited her to Kingsley‟s Saturday night! “Stacy!” she squealed, kicking off her shoes and dropping her bag at the door. “In the kitchen, Sav.” Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Savannah turned the corner. She stopped short when she realized there was another person in the apartment. And that person was…a man. He was tall, built, and blond to the extreme. Aside from his superior taste in Italian suits, she couldn‟t make out much about him. He had his back to her, like he‟d been talking to Stacy from across the kitchen counter while she prepared dinner. When the finely-haberdashered gentleman spun around, his good looks caught Savannah by surprised. He was younger than she‟d anticipated, judging solely by the cost of his suit, and his vague familiarity didn‟t help her cast aside a sense of impending doom. Was he the landlord? Were they being evicted or something? Shit! And right in the middle of her science term. Like they’d have time to look for a new place now! “Savannah?” The man offered a sympathetic nod. “Nice to see you again.” “Uh…hi…” she stammered, glancing back and forth between his chiseled jaw and Stacy‟s encouraging gaze. Stacy clicked her teeth. “It‟s my dad, Savannah. You‟ve met him before.”

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Oh yeah. She felt like a total idiot, but tried to cover it up by saying, “Right. I know.” “Thanks for taking care of my little girl,” he said, giving Savannah a playful punch in the shoulder. Savannah rubbed the spot where his fist made first contact—not that it hurt, she just wanted to touch it for some reason. “Hey, no probs,” she said. What the hell was his name, again? She couldn‟t very well call him „Stacy‟s Dad‟ to his face. “Stacy didn‟t mention you were coming to town.” Stacy gripped the kitchen knife like she could throttle the damn thing. “I didn‟t know,” she snapped as she chopped cucumber for the salad. She shook her head, brushing platinum blond bangs from her eyes with the back of her hand. “Sorry, Sav. It‟s just…” She looked up at her dad and then set down the knife and lowered her gaze to the chopping board. “Would you give us a minute, please?” As Savannah looked from Stacy to Stacy‟s dad, she suddenly felt out of place in her own home. Their intense gazes forced her from the kitchen. What could she do but nod and back away? Grabbing her bag from the front hall, she scuttled off to her room. Savannah sat on the carpet with her back against her bed. She preferred to study on the floor—it was more comfortable than the straight-backed wooden chair at her desk, and it gave her room to sprawl. With a notebook in her lap, she looked at her lab notes, but all she could concentrate on were the whispers emanating from the kitchen. She didn‟t want to eavesdrop, but she did want to hear what they were saying. It wasn‟t like Stacey‟s parents to drop by unannounced. In the two years they‟d lived together, her dad had never come for a visit before. Savannah had met him when she

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and Stacy first moved in to this apartment, but neither Savannah‟s mom and dad nor Stacy‟s lived anywhere nearby. An out-of-the-blue visit must indicate something terrible had happened. Wait, where was Stacy‟s mom? Why had her dad come over alone? God, what if Stacy’s mom had an accident? Savannah tried to hear without listening. Then, she tried not to hear. Then, she turned on her radio and tried to forget there was anything going on at all. When Stacy was ready, she‟d tell Savannah what had happened. Until then, she had lab results to type up. The diagrams were always fussy when she tried to do them on the computer, but she‟d procrastinated long enough. Time to work. By the time Stacy knocked at the door, Savannah was typing up her conclusions. She reached up to the radio and turned down the volume. “Come in.” Stacy slipped inside, falling like a ghost into Savannah‟s bed. “Looks like we‟ve got company.” Setting her laptop on the floor and shuffling her papers into a neat stack, Savannah got up and sat on the edge of the bed. She could see Stacy‟s red nose and bloodshot eyes in her closet mirror. “You mean your dad?” Stacy nodded. When she hugged Savannah‟s pillow, there was a thump against the headboard and then a muffled thud on the carpet. Savannah breathed a sigh of relief that the romance novel she kept underneath her pillow had fallen behind the bed before Stacy found it. She was always teasing Stacy for reading “that crap.” Far be it for her to admit she read it too.

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“My mom had an affair,” Stacy said in a tone so hushed Savannah almost asked her to repeat. “Dad just found out. He came home early from work today and he caught her red-handed.” Other girls might have wrapped their arms around Stacy, but Savannah wasn‟t touchy-feely like that. It‟s not that she didn‟t care, she just wasn‟t good at physical displays of affection. “Oh my god.” She couldn‟t think what to say to comfort her roommate. “Who was she cheating with?” That probably wasn’t the most consoling question in the world. “Some guy from her office,” Stacy said. Savannah watched her lie very still and stare at her own reflection in the mirror. “They had a big argument. I mean, not the guy—he took off, obviously. Mom and dad had an argument, and she was all like, „I‟m sorry, it‟ll never happen again,‟ and he was like, „Yeah, that‟s right it won‟t because I‟m leaving,‟ and he packed a bag and came here.” “Why here?” Savannah asked. Right away, she registered how callous that question sounded. She only meant that he surely had enough money to go anywhere. He didn‟t have to camp out in his daughter‟s college apartment. Stacy‟s voice was hard when she said, “Because I‟m here.” As she watched Stacy in the mirror, Savannah started feeling uncomfortable. Firstly, she had no idea what to say about all this. She wasn‟t very good at consoling people. Aside from that immediate concern, they were going to have a man staying in their apartment. Of course Stacy wouldn‟t care—the man was Stacy‟s dad—but to Savannah, he was a relative stranger. And, god, he‟d be sharing their one washroom with the iffy lock on the door…and the apartment would start to smell like boys, and he

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would stare at her tits, wouldn‟t he? She‟d have to wear sweaters every time she left her room. “How long is he staying?” Savannah asked. “And where‟s he going to sleep?” “I offered him my bed,” Stacy said. She spoke matter-of-factly now, after Savannah had totally failed at showing any sign of sympathy. She felt sympathetic. It sucked that Stacy‟s family was going through a rough patch. How could she get that across? “But he insisted on taking the couch, so I guess the living room‟s pretty much his.” And the sympathy jumped out the window. It irked Savannah that Stacy hadn‟t put that question to her: “Is it okay if we let my dad take the living room?” It was their apartment, after all. But no, it was a hard and fast statement. He was staying with them, sleeping on the couch that, by the way, was from Savannah‟s parents‟ basement. That was that. End of story. No argument. Stacy‟s dad would be living with them. “For how long?” Savannah repeated. Stacy‟s lips pursed and she rose from the bed like a hasty specter. “I don‟t know, okay?” And in two shakes, she was out the door. She grabbed the handle hard like she was going to slam it shut. After holding still for a tense moment, she snapped, “Dinner‟s ready. Come eat.” When Stacy had left the room, Savannah stood from the bed and looked at herself in the full-length mirror: the hip-hugging jeans were fine, but her white tank top was just a little too tight, a little too low-cut, and a little too thin to wear in front of Stacy‟s dad. He‟d spend the whole meal gazing into her cleavage, or tracing with his eyes the line where her light brown skin met her dark black bra. This outfit represented her skank

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limitation. Savannah didn‟t dress slutty because, generally speaking, she didn‟t like people looking at her. She knew she had a pretty face and her curves would draw a crowd if she let them, but she didn‟t let them. The only reason she wasn‟t hiding under multiple clothing layers today is that she wanted to catch Chris‟ eye in lab. Mission accomplished, by the way. She wasn‟t even really sure what she liked about Chris. He was the type of skuzzy indie rocker she‟d generally see across campus, not in her own classroom. They were usually humanities majors, not scientists. Most of the other students in her program were science geeks and overachievers like Savannah and, to a lesser degree, Stacy. That‟s probably what attracted her attention in Chris—the simple fact that, in a bio-chemistry lab, he looked different than everybody else. That made him seem less boring than all the other guys, but, at the same time, she knew if he was in her program, he must have a few brains in his head. So, today she‟d made herself amply visible and he took the bait! Saturday night, she was going to Kingsley‟s to see his band play! “Sav!” Stacy hollered from down the hall. “I‟m going to eat your kebab myself if you don‟t get your aaa…uh…your butt in here.” Chuckling over Stacy‟s self-censorship in front of her father, Savannah grabbed the grey Varsity hoodie off the back of her chair. She zipped it all the way up to her chin before joining Stacy and her dad for what promised to be a ridiculously depressing meal.

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Chapter Two

When Savannah walked into the kitchen, she was glad to find neither Stacy nor her father eating there. The TV was on in the living room and they were eating in front of it, thank god! The crass cackle of canned laughter was a welcome infusion in their overwrought environment. Savannah picked up the plate of salad, rice, kebabs and mixed vegetables that Stacy had left on the counter. It would have been rude to eat in the kitchen or, worse yet, to take her plate into her bedroom, but when she stepped into the living room, she wanted quite badly to turn tail and run. Stacy had parked her ass on the armchair, leaving Savannah to share the couch with her father. He looked up at her—at her eyes, not her boobs, so the hoodie obviously worked its magic—and offered a nervous smile. For some reason, she said, “Hi,” and then felt like an idiot. “Hello, roomie,” Stacy‟s dad replied. He reached across the couch and tossed the throw cushions to the floor so Savannah wouldn‟t have to sit on his lap. That, she perceived, was highly empathic of him. She expected every older man she encountered to have no respect for women, but maybe that view was a little too harsh. She ought to give Stacy‟s dad the benefit of the doubt. “Thanks,” she said. Curling into the very corner of the couch, she placed her plate on the armrest and tried to watch TV without looking too much in his direction. The sitcom Stacy had turned on was way too risqué to be watching with somebody‟s father in the room, and everybody very obviously stifled their laughter at the crudest of the jokes. Awkward!

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After five of the longest minutes of her life, Savannah couldn‟t take the tension. Grabbing the remote from the coffee table, she said, “Let‟s see what else is on.” “Good idea,” Stacy‟s dad said. What the hell was his name? Savannah flipped through the channels until she came across the familiar face of a young red-head. “Oh my god, I Love Lucy is on!” Stacy groaned from the corner chair. “Seriously? Dad used to put this on after school when I was a kid and I always hated it. I wanted to watch reruns of Night Court.” “You weren‟t old enough to watch Night Court,” he said. “Yeah, you probably don‟t think I‟m old enough to watch it now,” she muttered. Savannah didn‟t want to delve into their familiar discord. She swayed the conversation back to Lucy. “I used to watch this show after school too. I had a babysitter named…oh, what the hell was her name? Anyway, she was Indian with a British accent, which I thought was too cool for school, and she let me watch one half-hour of TV before starting my homework. I always picked Lucy.” “It‟s a classic,” Stacy‟s dad agreed. “You know, when I was a kid this show was considered risqué. Lucy and Desi were the first TV couple to sleep in the same bed, if you can believe that. Watch Dick van Dyke or…let‟s see…The Honeymooners, I think, or any of those shows. Married couples all slept in twin beds like Bert and Ernie.” “Now that show I did like,” Stacy said, but the conversation no longer involved her. It had coasted to Savannah and…what the hell was his name? “But your parents did let you watch Lucy, or they didn‟t?” Savannah asked. She turned to face Stacy‟s dad, bringing her knees up onto the couch and setting her plate in her lap.

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“They were fairly progressive, in that regard. But, god, I was one of those kids who sat three inches from the television, you know? They were constantly telling me to move back, move away from the TV. „Eric, twelve inches,‟ they‟d say.” Eric! Finally, Stacy‟s dad had a name! He laughed and repeated the phrase, “Eric, twelve inches. Also, by strange coincidence, the caption under my picture in Gigolos Weekly.” For a split second, Savannah wasn‟t sure if that was a joke, but then Stacy moaned, “Eww, dad, what the fuck!” He blasted a grave look across his plate of half-eaten dinner. “Language, Stace.” “Penis jokes, dad!” she shot back. “God, I‟m trying to eat, here. Show some respect!” But it was Savannah Eric faced to say, “Sorry if I‟ve offended.” “No,” she chuckled. “I think it‟s just Stacy who‟s offended.” Stacy nodded. “Sh-yeah I am! You‟re grossing me out. Talk about something else, will you?” “Okay, okay,” Eric said. He took a mouthful of rice while he searched for a new topic of conversation. “Savannah, where are you from?” Her fork fell from her fingers. It landed with a clang on her plate before tumbling to the carpet. For a moment, she just looked at it. Savannah didn‟t like to think of herself as easy to offend, but it really bothered her when people figured she was not from this country just because her skin wasn‟t as snow-white as Eric‟s or Stacy‟s, or Stacy‟s mother‟s for that matter. Not that she‟d had much interaction with either Stacy‟s father or her mother, but she remembered thinking Eric and his wife had that “brother and sister

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couple” look about them. They were both light-skinned with hair so blond you‟d swear it was bleached. Though she was pretty sure Eric and his wife weren‟t actually fruit of the same loins, their whole little family looked nearly albino. “Sav,” Stacy said. “My dad asks everyone he meets where they‟re from. He works as the Director of Development for the IHAO.” Savanna laughed at her overreaction to the simple question. “That‟s the International Humanitarian Aid Organization, right?” she asked as she bent down to pick up her fork. It was covered in lint and other grossness, so she put it down on the coffee table and ate her kebab with her fingers. Eric nodded as he did the same. “That‟s right.” “Wow.” She didn‟t even try to hide how impressed she was. “Development…that‟s essentially fundraising, right?” “Yeah,” Stacy laughed. “Dad‟s a glorified panhandler.” “It‟s true, and I‟m never off the clock, so if you‟ve got any spare change lying around, I‟d be glad to take it off your hands.” “Students aren‟t the best demographic to hit up for cash,” Savannah replied. But she felt a little guilty giving nothing when she reflected on the four dollar latte she‟d downed between her microbiology lecture and her bio-chem lab. “I‟ll see what I can dig up after dinner.” Stacy and her dad finished their meals at exactly the same time. She cleared their plates while he explained, “That‟s why I always ask people where they‟re from…” “I‟m from here,” Savannah quickly interjected. She didn‟t want the assumption that she was born somewhere else to remain hovering on the air.

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Eric picked up the TV remote and turned down the volume. “Well, „here‟ is a place. We fund projects all over the world, including „here.‟” “Really?” Savannah asked. “That seems weird to me. This is an affluent country we live in. Shouldn‟t our money be going to people who need it more than we do?” With a nod, Eric grabbed his water glass from the side table and took a sip. “Good question. I feel like I‟m being interviewed.” “Oh,” Savannah said. Had she been rude? “Sorry. Inquiring minds are always humming.” “No, it‟s good to ask questions,” he said. “And yes, you‟re right. Most fundraising dollars do go to developing countries with world majority populations, but I always like to tell people what‟s going on close to home. Here, we don‟t feel the government is doing a great job in supporting the First Nations and Inuit populations. In fact, they‟ve really dropped the ball.” Savannah nodded. “Amen to that.” “There are reservations in this country akin to shanty towns, where clean water is not always available and disease is rampant. And those who hold the money all live in urban centres, so they never see this level of poverty first-hand. It‟s out of sight, out of mind.” “That‟s one thing about studying biology,” Savannah reflected. “You get so caught up in the internal lives of individual organisms—you know, on an organic scale— that you sometimes forget to look out into the world. What other work do you guys do?” “Lots,” Eric began. “Let‟s try this: where are your parents from?”

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Now that she realized why he was asking, she didn‟t mind telling him. “My mother was born in Laos, but her parents came here when she was little.” “Laos?” He looked at her in a way she couldn‟t quite decipher. It wasn‟t sleazy or dirty or anything along those lines, and yet his gaze warmed her in a way she couldn‟t quite describe. “Our big project in Laos is bomb disposal. The Americans dropped hundreds of thousands of bombs on Laos during the Vietnams war…” “Yeah, I know,” Savannah replied. Unzipping her grey hoodie, she slipped it from her shoulders and tossed it over the arm of the couch. “That‟s why my grandparents left the country. A lot of my relatives were killed in that senseless war.” Eric nodded. “And those bombs are still killing Laotians to this day. The countryside is ridden with undetonated explosives, and in the rural areas there‟s a thriving black market for scrap metal. That‟s a lethal combination. In poor villages, people—adults and children alike—come across old bombs and try to dig them up to sell. Quite often, the jostle reactivates the detonation device and…” “God. Those people could be my cousins.” Savanna fished all the change from the pocket of her jeans. “What do you guys do about the bombs?” “We have teams,” he told her. “Bomb disposal teams. They go into these areas and safely dispose of the explosives. Can you imagine? All these years after the war, and innocent people are still being killed.” Savannah took a deep breath as she considered Stacy‟s father. He looked so much younger than her parents, though they must be roughly the same age. He had a vibrancy to him, as well, that seemed nothing if not youthful. She‟d already forgotten the reason for his visit, but when it stormed to the forefront of her mind, she felt a surge of

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discomfort. She hoped he wouldn‟t mention his wife‟s affair to her. She‟d feel really awkward hearing about it. “What about Africa?” she asked. “That‟s where my father‟s ancestors were from.” “We have a number of projects going on in Africa, as you can imagine. Right now we have a big push on promoting the rights of women and girls. This campaign‟s gotten a lot of great press.” “Yeah, I‟ve heard of it for sure. It‟s about helping women work for themselves in sustainable industries, and encouraging families to let their girls go to school.” “Right!” Eric said. He seemed very pleased his message had reached all the way to his daughter‟s house. “As ruefully as we may look at corporate sponsorship, it‟s a necessary evil at times. Did you know we‟ve teamed up with purveyors of sanitary pads, who help us by donating money and product to help keep girls attending classes?” Stacy crept back into the room and took a seat in her favourite chair, but neither Eric nor Savannah acknowledged her. The conversation had gotten too interesting. “Yeah, you know, I actually did hear about that,” Savannah said. “Because a lot of girls there, especially in the villages, aren‟t allowed to go to school when they have their periods. They fall behind after a while, and then a lot of them drop out.” “What the hell are you people talking about?” Stacy asked, grabbing the remote from the coffee table. “One of the IHAO‟s projects in Africa involves…” But Stacy wasn‟t listening. She upped the volume on the TV to drown out her father‟s voice. He looked to Savannah and shrugged. “We‟ll finish this conversation some other time, I guess.”

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The guy had a really nice smile—she‟d give him that much. “For sure. I have a lot of reading to do for Physiology of Neural Systems.” Eric laughed. “Sounds like fun.” And then he looked to his daughter. “Stacy, don‟t you have reading to do too?” Rolling her eyes, she tossed the TV remote back on the coffee table. “Yes, father.” When Stacy marched to her room and closed the door with a little more force than was necessary, Savannah went to the kitchen to clear her plate. Through the serving gap, she watched Stacy‟s dad pick up the remote, flip past documentaries and round-table news programs, and finally settle on one of those irritating fat-husbandpretty-wife sitcoms. A man as smart as Eric would really have to be suffering to fill his mind with that crap. “Can I get you anything?” Savannah asked him. “No thanks,” he said without turning around. “Stace showed me where you keep everything and…oh, I won‟t eat any of the food with your name on it. She told me not to.” Her heart panged for the guy. “No…” she muttered. “It‟s okay. Eat what you like.” When Savannah got to her room, she spent a good half hour scouring her bookshelf for something Eric might be interested in reading. Anything would be better than sitcoms, but she doubted he‟d be interested in her old Genetics text, or even the vastly more jejune Pharmacokinetic Principles. She didn‟t own many novels, but she did have the autobiography of a young Somali woman. With his international aid work, he‟d

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surely find it as interesting as Savannah had. She set the paperback by her door to give him when she left her room for the nightly nine o‟clock tea break.

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Chapter Three

Savannah closed her eyes and listened to this week‟s favourite song on the radio. She fully acknowledged her commitment issues with regard to music and bands. What she loved this week, she‟d hate next week. She didn‟t like anything after it became popular. Would she drop Chris so easily once she got to know him? Would she love his band for a week and then start searching for the next big thing? It was nine o‟clock on the dot. She felt cross-eyed, glancing down at the printed words on the page of her textbook and the hand-written words in her note book. Break time hadn‟t come a moment too soon. Picking up last night‟s tea mug, she hopped up off the floor and nearly tripped on the paperback by her door. Oh yeah. Not only had she forgotten her plan to lend the book to Stacy‟s dad, she‟d forgotten Stacy‟s dad was even at their house. Stacy spent enough evenings vegging in front of the TV—it could just as easily have been her out there. When Savannah stepped out of her bedroom, she very nearly jumped back in. She couldn‟t stop herself from reacting audibly when she caught sight of a topless Eric in the middle of the living space. When she gasped, he looked up and met her gaze straight on. The look on his face matched the expression she figured must be painted across hers—your average „deer caught in the headlights‟ look. “Oh, I‟m sorry,” he said, throwing a white T-shirt over his head. “Sorry, I just wanted to get out of my suit. You‟d been holed up in your room so long I thought…”

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“Nine o‟clock tea break,” she interrupted. She tried to be subtle as she gazed over the back of the couch to see if he was wearing any pants. He was. “If you want, you can change in my bedroom while I put the kettle on.” “Uhh…” He blinked a few times, but she couldn‟t read his expression. “Yeah, I can do that. Whatever makes you most comfortable.” Or least uncomfortable. “For sure,” she said with an organic smile. “Just watch my papers and stuff. I study on the floor.” He smiled too, though he gave her a teasing look as he walked by the kitchen with plaid pyjama pants in hand. Was it so strange to study on the floor? Not that she cared much what other people thought. She took her bag of chocolate chip cookies down from the cupboard and set a few out on a plate as she waited for the water to boil. What did Stacy‟s dad think of her, she wondered. Did he know she‟d kept her marks high enough to maintain her scholarship even into third year? Did Stacy talk about her roommate at all with her parents, or was Savannah only part of the furniture? At least being classified as „furniture‟ was better than being seen as the roommate from hell, which she knew she wasn‟t. She was quiet and kept to herself, but she was sociable too. After all, Stacy was her best friend. But there were limitations on everything, as far as Savannah was concerned. Even if you get along great with your roommate, you don‟t want to spend every waking hour with her. And then Savannah thought about her space—her room. Eric was in there now. How long did it take to change from dress pants into pyjama pants? He must be in there perusing her bookshelf and looking at her knick-knacks. A tingle of excitement ran

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through her at the thought of him picking up the little stuffed dog on her pillow and feeling how soft its fur was, or finding the secret romance stashed under her bed. Eric emerged from Savannah‟s bedroom just as the electric kettle clicked off. She nearly poured boiling water all over herself when he walked by holding his suit pants in one hand and dark grey jockey-boxers in the other. It wasn‟t just the fact that she could see his underwear, it was also the fact that if his underwear was in his hand, that meant he wasn‟t wearing it. “Thanks,” Eric said to her, nodding as he folded his pants over the back of Stacy‟s chair. “Nice to have a moment of privacy.” “No probs. I made you a cup of tea. How do you take it?” He sat down heavily on the couch in his plain flannel pants and white T-shirt— and probably no underwear! “Oh, thanks. That‟s sweet of you. I just take a little milk if you have it.” “For sure,” she replied, still watching him as she opened the fridge door. She was surprised that he wasn‟t getting up to fetch his own mug. If he turned out to be one of those men who expected any woman who happened to be in the room to wait on him hand and foot, she would soon be lobbying for his expulsion. When she brought him his cup of tea, she understood. His eyes looked red, like his two minutes of solitude had brought every sore thought surging into the foreground of his mind. He must have darted by her so quickly because he didn‟t want her to see him like this. She would have done the same thing. She hated when people asked that dreaded question, “What‟s wrong?” If she said, “Nothing,” they only pushed harder. And if she told them what was wrong, she spent half the night crying.

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Savannah piled her book on top of her plate of cookies, and carried her tea into the living room. “I thought you might like this,” she said. He offered a weak smile in return. “The book or the cookies?” “Well, both. I was just thinking no sense watching stupid TV shows all night, right? I read this autobiography a few years ago, and I really liked it. There‟s a part in it that you reminded me of when we were talking…” Was she really going to bring this up again with her roommate‟s dad? “…uh, talking about sanitary napkins and all that, because she writes about going to a job interview in the city and leaving blood all over the chair. In her village, they just bled out and didn‟t worry about it. So, not to spoil it for you, but the man interviewing her takes her to the store and buys her a box of pads and, like, takes one out and tells her how to use it.” She couldn‟t believe she was going on and on about periods, and Eric wasn‟t even squirming. Before she studied biology, she felt uncomfortable talking about these things, even with other girls. Now, with everything they discussed in lectures and everything she encountered in labs, she wasn‟t so squeamish or so bashful. “I‟ll certainly give it a look,” Eric said, flipping the book over and gazing at the photo on the back cover. “And I‟ll get right on these cookies too.” Stacy came out of her room with fresh linens and an ear for conversation. They probably wanted some time to discuss family affairs. Happy to have made him smile, even if it took a chocolate chip bribe, Savannah picked up her tea, took three cookies in hand, and left them to it. ****

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After falling asleep in a book, Savannah sprang up from the floor, rolled the kink out of her neck, and surged into the morning kitchen. It must be late—Stacy was back from her run, and already busy juicing colourful produce. “Will you cut that out?” her father called from the couch. “No!” Stacy snapped. “You drink my booze, you suffer the consequences.” As much as Savannah didn‟t want to get involved, she couldn‟t help asking, “What?” Stacy nodded toward the couch. “My father got into the rum that what‟s-his-face brought me back from the Dominican. He was up drinking all night, and he called in sick to work. How‟s that for setting a good example for your daughter?” She only stopped juicing because her glass was filled to the brim. “No wonder mom had an affair,” Stacy muttered. Frozen to the kitchen tile, Savannah stared at the art cards on the fridge. How could she possibly reply to a statement like that? Though the tension hurt her heart, she stayed in Stacy‟s and Eric‟s midst just long enough to fill up the kettle and stick a tea bag in her travel mug. “Are we taking the bus together?” Stacy asked. Savannah nodded as she raced to the bathroom. “I‟ll be quick in the shower.” “Good,” Stacy said, “because I have Invertebrate Zoology first thing, and my T.A. already hates me.” After showering and dressing in tight brown cords and a T-shirt, Savannah fixed her tea while Eric snored on the couch. She felt strangely disappointed in him. More than she should have been, all things considered. She‟d never been cheated on, or

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been married for twenty-something years, for that matter. She was in no position to judge his response. On the bus to campus, Savannah tried to avoid the topic, but Stacy was the kind of person who liked to talk things through. “In a way, I can‟t believe she did it. I mean, if dad hadn‟t caught her red-handed, I would have said he was paranoid.” “But?” Savannah asked. Stacy leaned against the bus window. “I guess she hasn‟t seemed really happy for a while. But it‟s hard for me to know what goes on between them. I don‟t even live there anymore.” Though she hated to pose the question yet again, Savannah asked, “Do you know how long he‟s staying with us?” “He‟ll be out on his ass soon if he keeps drinking my liquor!” Savannah laughed. “Oh, I didn‟t get to tell you! Chris asked me to Kingsley‟s tomorrow night.” Stacy nearly did a spit take on that one. “No way! He did?” “Yeah, to see his band.” Savannah took a self-satisfied sip of tea while Stacy looked on, slack-jawed. “Why are you so surprised? I‟m an eligible bachelorette,” she laughed. “Yeah, no, I know that,” Stacy said. “Just, Chris is so…I mean, he‟s…” “He‟s cool.” Savannah offered a decisive nod. “I know. That‟s why I like him. Our classes are full of geeks like us…” Stacy poked her in the side. “Hey, speak for yourself missy.”

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“Well, you know what I mean.” Taking a long sip of soothing hot tea, Savannah watched their familiar route pass by out the window. “I just want something a little different. Every day is so much the same.” She pictured Chris with his relaxed sense of style leaning back in his high lab chair while their T.A. talked about this and that. His expression always seemed so carefree. To watch him, he seemed like he wasn‟t paying even the slightest bit of attention to the lesson. He never seemed to listen, but he always got A‟s on his lab reports, so what did that say? He went home every night and did his readings just like her. He was naturally brilliant. She and Chris were the same, but different. Chris was cool. She was not. **** Cool was such an elusive quality, Savannah reflected as she dragged her book bag behind her. She ascended the stairs to her apartment slowly this afternoon, lost in deep contemplation. What did it take to come off as cool? Clothes. “Cool” clothes. Savannah had cool clothes, didn‟t she? Well, they were cool when she bought them. At least, she thought they were. Chris wore children‟s T-shirts from the 1980‟s. Who would ever have anticipated thirty years ago that those tops would be cool again? Dang, Super Mario Brothers? That came out before she was born! But, if memory served, she still had her favourite Sailor Moon top packed away in the back of her closet. It would be nice and tight now, and her boobs would look kick-ass in it. Would she look cool in a Tshirt from her childhood? That‟s what seemed to be in, so she‟d give it a try. Stacy‟s shoes weren‟t at the front door and her father wasn‟t strewn across the couch, so she must have taken him out for a cheerful dinner. Kicking off her cross-

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trainers, Savannah slid down the waxed wood hallway and opened the door to her room. “Oh, Jesus!” Savannah gasped as Stacy‟s dad shrieked like a five-year old and shielded his penis with his hands. He was naked. Totally naked. Why was he naked? Hell, besides that, why was he in her room? Oh, because she‟d told him he could change there if he wanted some privacy. So he‟d done just that, or, at least, he was in the middle of doing it when she walked in on him. Naked. And…good naked. Wow! Eric was fit. Dang, he had nice abs. Great chest. Hardly any hair—that‟s just the way a chest ought to look, she figured. Not all thick with a carpet of fuzz, but smooth and just a little gleaming, like he‟d been out in the sun and worked up a bit of a sweat. As Eric grasped for his jockey-boxers laid out on her bed, Savannah thought to herself, I should say “Ooops!” and “I’m sorry,” then shut the door and leave him to change. But for some reason, she didn‟t do any of those things. She stood in the door frame watching as he fought with his underwear. He was obviously distressed by her presence because he hopped around the room, jabbing his foot at the leg holes between black cotton, and always missing. As far as she could recall, Savannah had never seen a blond guy without his clothes on. Eric‟s pubic hair surprised her. It was dark. Not jet black or anything, maybe not even quite brown, but it was dark compared to his bleach-blond head. Her experience with male nudity was quite narrow—a high school boyfriend and another in first-year university, both of whom belonged to the black fuzz brigade. There‟d been

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nobody since. She knew guys were a distraction, and she shirked their siren‟s song as best she could to maintain her scholarship. Though Eric‟s nakedness made her heart beat strong in her chest, it didn‟t offend her. She watched him struggle into his underwear and then simply said, “How‟s it going?” “Uhh…” Eric dove for his pair of jeans resting on Savannah‟s bed and forced his legs into theirs. “I‟m just getting…uhh…” He didn‟t look at her, even after he‟d pulled on his polo shirt. “Just finished getting dressed…” Picking his pyjamas up off the bed, he looked down at the cotton and flannel and said, “I didn‟t know you were home. Sorry if…” “No biggie,” she interrupted. And then she laughed because that was totally the wrong phrasing. “I mean no problem. Hell, next time you can walk in on me naked.” Dang! What the hell possessed her to say a thing like that? She watched Eric‟s face go beet red as he chuckled nervously and murmured some nonsense on the way out the door. It was all like a dream. None of it felt real. In real life, Savannah would have been mortified. She would have slammed that door shut at the first sighting of a strange penis. Not that the penis itself was strange—no, it looked long and strong, thick and proud, as Eric jostled it into his underwear. The shaft was white and fleshy, but the tip gleamed like pink silk. If she licked it, how would it taste? Would it jump against her tongue? If she took it between her lips, how hard would it get? How much could she swallow before she gagged on its sheer mass? Savannah caught sight of her dopey smile in the closet mirror and shook it from her face. She wasn‟t going to let herself fall into that trap. Yes, Eric was an attractive

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man, and intelligent and worthy, but he was Stacy‟s damn father and he was how many years older than her? Anyway, she had a date with Chris tomorrow night and she needed to dig through her closet for a Sailor Moon shirt or he‟d never think she was cool.

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Chapter Four Stacy took her dad to the pub Friday evening, thank god. They both came home pretty early, but suitably tanked. Drunk Stacy made no mention of Savannah walking in on a naked Eric, so he must not have told her. “Drinking with your dad?” Savannah chuckled when Eric was in the washroom. “I think you‟ve reached a new low.” Contorting her lips into a passable Elvis curl, Stacy let out a huge burp and opened a bag of barbeque chips. “Dad‟s funny when he‟s wasted. He was flirting with these first-year drama sluts and they‟re all like, Wow, you’ve got great hair! Dramsies are such fake-ass lame-wads.” Savannah‟s gut clenched at the idea of Eric flirting with girls even younger than her. “Didn‟t that bother you?” Stacy crammed a handful of chips in her mouth. When she spoke, shards of deep-fried potato fell out. “It‟s not like he was fucking random skanks, he was just flirting with them.” Stacy held out the chip bag, but after watching her roommate make such a pig of herself, Savannah wasn‟t exactly tempted. “Dad deserves to feel good about himself, after what mom did. The guy he caught her with was, like, our age or younger. He‟s just a college student doing his co-op placement at mom‟s firm. She could get in huge trouble if her work found out.” Hearing of his troubles, Savannah felt a little less spiteful in regard to Eric‟s flirtation. Still, she had to wonder why he hadn‟t flirted with her. She was pretty goodlooking, wasn‟t she? Yeah, she was! And she had a killer body—big boobs and a nice booty. Why didn‟t he want to get down with her?

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Savannah suddenly felt like Stacy could see her thoughts, and she looked around the room, but felt suspicious, so she looked back at Stacy…and felt guilty. She should say something. What should she say? “Do you want your mom to get in trouble? Are you mad at her?” Leaning back against the fridge, Stacy sighed and then hiccupped. “I‟m pissed at her, yeah, but I don‟t think she deserves to be fired or anything.” “Have you called her?” Stacy shook her head. “I don‟t know what to say. I kinda don‟t even want to take sides that much because, like, what if she was really depressed or whatever and this made her feel better? Who am I to judge, you know?” There was something hauntingly balanced about drunk Stacy. It was almost as if all her mellow poise floated to the top of her personality in a pool of alcohol. And then she burped again and the illusion was shattered. When the bathroom door opened, Savannah froze. There was no way to get from the kitchen to her bedroom without seeing the whites of Eric‟s eyes—or the pinks of his eyes, as it turned out. He actually didn‟t seem as drunk as she‟d imagined. “Good night?” she asked sheepishly as she snuck past him at the edge of the kitchen. Before she could get beyond him, Eric threw a clumsy arm around her shoulder, and then pulled Stacy in close as well. “Good night,” he replied, kissing his daughter‟s blond hair before leaning in to kiss the top of Savannah‟s head. But Savannah did a stupid thing. She turned. Was it stupid of fortuitous? She wasn‟t sure yet. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. As Eric turned away from smiling Stacy‟s platinum hair, Savannah looked up into his face. His eyes were closed and he was saying

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something—what was he saying? Something about “his girls,” wasn‟t it? Thanking them for taking in a homeless bum. She watched his pink lips as he spoke, and she saw them coming straight at what he must have thought was the top of her head. Maybe she meant for it to happen. Maybe she wanted his soft wet lips to land smack on hers. Whether she‟d encouraged it or not, there it was. He kissed her lips. It was just a peck, and it was obviously an accident on his part, but it happened. A surge of adrenaline shot through Savannah‟s body, from her lips straight down to her toes, making all stops in between. Her core ached to be filled. God, it had been such a long time—over a year? How had she managed to go without it for so long? With this accidental kiss, all the sensation and emotion of passionate lovemaking resurfaced in her body and she wanted it. She wanted it so goddamn badly. As soon as Eric realized his lips had met her lips and not her hair, he pulled away…and hiccupped. Quick as that blundering kiss had happened, Savannah shot a searching gaze to Stacy. There was shock in Stacy‟s eyes, that much was certain. Her jaw hung loose. And then she tossed her head back and cackled. Grabbing another handful of chips, Stacy laughed, “Dude, you friggin‟ kissed my dad!” For a lithe pixie, she could sure be rude and crude at times. Eric chuckled along with his daughter, even as he said, “Oops,” and, “Sorry.” Forcing a smile, Savannah said, “Yeah, it‟s okay. Accidents happen.” When she tried to roll away from the arm strewn buddy-casual around her shoulder, her boob brushed Eric‟s forearm and a fresh shot of passion pumped through her veins. God, was she ever turned on! And what could she possibly do about it? Seduce Stacy‟s dad?

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Yeah, that was a great idea. Perfect way to ruin a good relationship with her roommate, not to mention further fuck up the man‟s marriage. Stacy was still cackling like a bastard when Savannah mumbled her goodnights and snuck off to her bedroom without so much as meeting Eric‟s gaze. She tried to read something dry, but her mind kept wandering back to the cock she‟d seen full in the flesh that afternoon. Their accidental kiss kept springing back to mind, and she found her imagination forcing Stacy out of the picture. She saw herself pressing Eric out of the kitchen and forcing his naked body down on the couch. Her body was screaming for sex. She had to get off now! Locking her bedroom door, Savannah threw off her clothes and pulled her reliable black dildo from the bottom of her sock drawer. What did Eric see when he looked at her? Did he like her? Did he think she was beautiful? Hot? Sexy? She wanted to see herself from his perspective. She stole a pillow from her bed. Tossing it down in front of her mirrored closet door, she stood staring at herself. Her skin glowed honey-brown in the moonlight, and her dark hair fell past her shoulders, with a slight curl at the base. No man could resist her tits. Even the big black dildo in her left hand seemed magnetically drawn to her nipples. As Savannah brushed her fingers through her black bush, she let her dildo skim the surface of her tits. Her body hadn‟t felt so full of immediate desire in a very long time. Now she wanted everything at once. She wanted to finish the kiss Eric had started. That wasn‟t going to happen, of course, but at least she could contemplate its completion. Closing her eyes, she imagined his lips meeting hers as she pressed her naked tits against his chest. He would pull her close and kiss her hard. He‟d give in to his own secret desires, and she‟d follow suit.

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When she opened her eyes, the pose reminded her of Venus riding a clamshell—that is, if Venus had been black and holding a dildo against her chest while she played with her pussy. With a chuckle, Savannah lowered herself down onto the pillow at her feet. Placing the flat end of her big fake cock against the pillow, she reached around with her left hand to hold it in place from behind. Her pussy was wetter than she‟d ever felt it, and she toyed with her clit to prepare herself for entry. When the pads of her fingers had nearly brought her to orgasm, she let her body freefall onto the big cock beneath her. It felt huge in her slit. Well, it was huge—that‟s why she‟d bought it. It was nice to imagine crawling on top of a good man with a huge cock and riding him to victory. As Savannah gazed into the mirror, she imagined Eric‟s face smiling at her. She let his cock fill her up, gasping as he got deep inside. All the while, her fingers rubbed her clit, alternating between up-and-down and circular motions. Everything felt good, and every new motion felt even better than the previous. Pressing her body down against the dildo, she let go with her left hand so she wouldn‟t have to arch her back anymore. Her free hand quickly got to work pinching her nipples, sending lightning bolts of sweet electricity flowing throughout her body. Savannah bounced harder on the dildo. Her pussy muscles clamped down on the thick plastic toy, and she tightened her thighs around the pillow and rode it like a cowgirl. She rocked the cock, back and forth, stroking her clit in time with the frenzied motion. Lifting her tits to her mouth, she licked them, and her whole body trembled. God, she wished it was Eric doing all this to her. She wanted his lips on her tits and his fingers on her clit and his cock in her snatch.

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Grinding her teeth together, Savannah rode the fake cock hard. As much as she enjoyed watching herself in the mirror, her eyes shut tight of their own volition as a big warmth overtook her. It came on like a tidal wave, knocking the sense right out of her. Her body kept rocking and rubbing and pinching, but she wasn‟t in control anymore. It moved on its own, like a wind-up toy, and eventually, with no conscious decision or will, her body slowed its pace and soon stopped altogether. She could have slept right there on the floor, but she knew better. Hurdling to her feet, she jumped into bed and fell into sleep with the happy knowledge that tomorrow would be Saturday. When she woke up, Eric would be outside and, even though nothing could happen between them, she‟d have her date with Chris in the evening. Savannah was going to get laid one way or another.

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Chapter Five

When the rich aroma of black coffee filled Savannah‟s lungs, her nose guided her straight out of bed. She‟d stumbled halfway across her bedroom before noticing three things: it was still dark outside, she was still naked, and the glowing blue number on her bedside clock seemed convinced it was just after two in the morning. All the same, that coffee smelled so damn good she threw on her fluffy white robe to investigate. The TV was on in the living room. That was surprising, because she could usually hear it from her bedroom. The kitchen light shone its white light across the hallway, but the rest of the lights were off—except, of course, for the red light on the front panel of the coffee maker. Without processing who might have made coffee at two in the morning, or for what purpose, Savannah wandered toward the machine of infinite temptation. “I‟m sorry,” an alluring voice rang out from the couch. “Did I wake you up? I was trying to be extra quiet. Sorry.” Savannah tried to say, “That‟s okay,” but her voice was still asleep. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “No, honey, it was the coffee.” Did she just call Stacy‟s dad…honey? Where the hell did that come from? Sitting upright on the couch, Eric turned to her and smiled with casual curiosity. “Yeah, I just made it. Grab a cup, if you want. It‟s your coffee, after all.” Returning his smile, she pulled her favourite mug from the cupboard before tiptoeing to the fridge for cream. She felt like she was moving strangely — too gingerly or too deliberately or something. Suddenly, she was Glenda the Good Witch in her own

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kitchen. “I fell asleep and then I woke up,” Savannah said. Now she felt like Glenda the Idiotic Witch, because of course she‟d fallen asleep and woken up and what a stupid thing to say and Eric would think she was a total… “Me too,” he replied, setting his mug on the coffee table. “And I figured, well, I‟m up now so I might as well brew some caffeine.” Like a particularly agile sleepwalker, Savannah meandered around the couch without spilling her coffee down the front of her white robe. Before she knew it, she was sitting with Eric at the opposite end of the couch. He must have changed his clothes in the living room or the bathroom, because he was back in pyjamas now and Savannah had no recollection of him sauntering into her bedroom to take off his pants. After only a few sips of coffee, the world seemed a little more solid and Savannah realized they were watching infomercials on TV. “You‟re not married to this, are you?” she asked, immediately regretting her choice of words. “No, no,” Eric said. “I just turned the TV on for the company. You can put it on whatever channel you like.” Savannah flipped over to the two a.m. sitcoms she watched as a treat during exam cram, and Eric‟s face lit up beyond the blue glow cast by the television screen. “This is perfect! I need to laugh right about now.” Savannah could always empathize, but never express her sympathy. She nodded, even though he wasn‟t looking at her. That didn‟t feel like enough, so she said, “You don‟t need a TV for company. You have me. TVs are probably better listeners, but I give really bad advice, in case you‟re looking for any.”

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With a deep chuckle, Eric said, “I‟ve had no shortage of bad advice tonight, but I‟d be glad to hear some more.” “And here I thought I was being unique,” Savannah teased. “Anyway, I‟m just kidding. The last thing I want to do is pry into your life.” Eric turned to her with an expression of awe on his face. “Pry? I showed up on your doorstep unannounced and uninvited. You‟ve let me change in your bedroom, sleep on your couch, and eat your food, and you haven‟t once asked me why. I don‟t think prying is even in the picture, here.” “Well…” Savannah couldn‟t bring herself to look him in the eye as she admitted, “Stacy obviously told me why you‟re staying with us. It‟s not like I wasn‟t curious.” Their shared silence was cut only by the sounds of sipping coffee and the canned laughter on TV. When she thought it was safe to look, Savannah glanced in Eric‟s direction. He was leaning against the armrest at the opposite end of the couch. With his face in profile, he looked even younger than he had the last time the thought occurred. How could anybody cheat on a hot guy like Eric? Sure, she didn‟t know him all that well, but he seemed really sweet and caring. Stacy‟s dad seemed like such a good person. He didn‟t deserve to be cheated on. “Savannah…” Had she ever heard him say her name? It sounded so sensual on his lips. She loved the way he drew out the middle “a” sound for a few beats before moving on to the final “nah.” Eric trailed off as he turned to face her, and her heart thumped in her chest. She felt like whatever came next would be a big deal. Maybe he would even confess his

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obvious attraction to her. Maybe he‟d tell her their accidental drunken kiss had in fact been a deliberate drunken kiss. Or maybe he‟d say… “I just want to apologize to you.” She nodded, eyes wide and encouraging, but he didn‟t clarify the reason behind the apology. “Apologize?” she finally asked. “What for?” Shaking his head, he inched closer to her on the couch. “All the drinking I‟ve done since I got here. I‟ve really embarrassed myself.” “Oh, that? Pfft!” She waved her hand in the air, offering him an encouraging smile. “Don‟t worry about it. Totally understandable.” Grabbing her hand, he squeezed her fingers against his palm. His gaze was nothing if not sincere. “No, I‟ve been acting like those mid-life crisis men who, you know, buy the convertibles and chase the young women, and generally try to be cool when, in reality, they‟re just pathetic.” With Eric‟s hand clutching hers, Savannah could hardly breathe, let alone process what he was saying. “You‟re not pathetic,” she murmured. “And I think you‟re a little too young for a mid-life crisis. You‟re, what…” She didn‟t want to presume. If she guessed too young, she‟d seem like a flatterer. If she guessed too old, that would be just plain insulting. “I mean, not that it matters how old you are. You look very young.” Eric gave her hand one final squeeze before playfully tossing it back into her lap. “Oh, come on,” he laughed. “I know you‟re just trying to make me feel better, but it‟s really not necessary.” “No, I mean it.” When she pulled her knees up onto the couch, her naked legs peeked out from the slit of her dressing gown. For a brief moment, she considered

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modesty‟s demand to draw the robe firmly shut. Throwing modesty to the breeze, she leaned across to the coffee table, allowing the top to fall open just a touch as she reached for her mug. She knew it was lecherous of her, but she wanted him to look at her body and consider the possibilities. “You look almost my age, like you might have finished college ten years ago, max.” Throwing his head back against the couch, Eric released a sharp laugh that peaked too soon and then dwindled quickly away. As he sat cupping his coffee mug with both hands and staring at the ceiling, Savannah felt a twinge of discomfort. It was so obvious he was thinking about all the bullshit his wife had put him through—what else would he be contemplating, looking so like a lost little boy? Savannah‟s legs itched to stand up and leave, but she fought the unsympathetic urge. She wanted to make Eric feel better. Somehow. If there was one thing Savannah sucked at, it was consoling the heartbroken. “So, what did you take in college?” Savannah finally asked. If she couldn‟t comfort Eric, the least she could do was change the subject. He shot her a curious glance. “Nothing. Why, what did Stacy tell you?” Confused, Savannah gripped her coffee. Why did Eric look so defensive? Had he not gone to college? Savannah felt flustered by his strange response. She searched his fearful gaze for some answer, but found none. His eyes were so blue. Even looking so apprehensive as they did, those eyes took her breath away. As she ogled him like a schoolgirl with a crush, a wave of understanding seemed to come over him, followed by a wave of relief. “Oh,” he said, chuckling before sipping his coffee and setting it down on the table. “What courses did I take?”

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“Well…yeah.” Savannah gripped her mug. “What did you think I meant?” “Oh, it‟s stupid.” He stuck a hand in his blonder-than-blond hair and ruffled it like the coat on a golden retriever. “I thought you meant what drugs did I take in college.” “Drugs?” Now it was Savannah‟s turn to toss her head back and laugh. Drugs? “God, no! Are you kidding me? Drugs and I inhabit two separate worlds. I‟ve never even smoked a cigarette.” Eric smirked and that wonderfully juvenile dimple made its first appearance of the night. “Haven‟t you?” “Nope,” she said with a shrug that nearly spilled her coffee. To be safe, she set her mug down beside his. “I try to stay away from things that are bad for me.” Savannah‟s mind reeled with all the possible follow-ups to that statement: “What about me, Savannah? I‟m bad for you, and you just keep inching your way closer.” Of course, Eric didn‟t say anything like that. In fact, he didn‟t say anything at all. He only nodded and reached for his coffee. “I do enjoy caffeine,” Savannah went on. “And I guess that‟s bad for me. But we all need our vices, don‟t we?” She imagined him putting an arm around her shoulder and asking, “Is that your only vice?” before kissing her neck and then tearing open her dressing gown and licking her breasts. God, what she wouldn‟t give to feel his hot mouth encompassing her nipple. The sucking would turn her own so bad she‟d grab his hand and thrust it between her legs. He‟d find her wet already. It didn‟t take much. Savannah‟s mind could make her wetter than any coarse man‟s body. Could Eric be coarse? If she poised herself just right at his side, would he

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wrap his arm around her middle and kiss her hard? Would he lay her back and open up her robe? Would he pull out his hard cock and, without even bothering to strip off his clothes, shove it into the wetness between her legs? Hold her shoulders down and fuck her bareback, with Stacy in the next room? No, Eric would never do anything like that. Of course he wouldn‟t. He was sensitive and dignified, and that‟s why Savannah felt so safe around him. If she thought for a second this man might be a threat to her personal safety, she wouldn‟t be sitting beside him on the couch in the middle of the night, sipping coffee in nothing but a robe. “To answer your question,” Eric said, “I was an English major with a minor in polisci.” Savannah issued a generous smile. “And they say an English degree won‟t get you anywhere.” “Well, it was more the political portion of my degree that helped me along in my career.” Eric returned her smile ten-fold. For a moment, Savannah simply gazed at him: perfectly straight teeth, perfectly pink lips…Eric was quite a man. She‟d encountered many successful people over the years, in a financial sense, but so few whose careers she actually respected. “How did wrangle a job with the IHAO?” He shrugged. “Same way anybody without connections does it: took an unpaid internship, got hired on as a minion with a pretty crappy wage, and just kept applying for those promotions until they started coming through. I‟ve heard it said executives are promoted to the level of incompetence, and that‟s pretty much where I‟m at now.”

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Savannah rolled her eyes. “I‟m sure that isn‟t true. Everything you told me about the IHAO yesterday proves you‟re good at what you do. Oh, and that reminds me, I want to make a larger donation to the organization—and that proves you‟re good at your job too, because you‟re the reason I want to donate.” Did that sound too fawning? “I mean, all that stuff you told me about, about the bombs in Laos and all that…” Eric could obviously see that she was treading water, trying desperately not to sink down to the depths of obvious infatuation. “You‟re in the same program as Stacy, aren‟t you?” he asked. “Pretty much,” she said with a nod. “Yeah, I‟m bio-chem, she‟s more on the bioengineering side of things.” Savannah felt stupid for saying that last bit. Eric was Stacy‟s father. Of course he knew what program she was in. Savannah turned to look at the clock on the microwave, since they‟d never managed to set the one on their old VCR. Boy, was it late! “Don‟t go,” Eric pleaded, like he could read her mind. He looked down into his coffee. “I mean, if you‟re tired or whatever, yes, go, but…” With a persuasive smile, he said, “I could use the company.” She couldn‟t name the force that guided her to sit upright on the couch. Was it the same one that insisted she grab a cushion and place it in her lap? Taking the coffee mug from Eric‟s hand, she set it down on the table. His movements were every bit as fluid as hers when she set her palm against his head and pulled it down into her lap. He offered no resistance. She didn‟t have to force him, and maybe that‟s because he could sense, in that moment, Savannah‟s intentions were not seductive. This was comfort.

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Something inside of her was giving instruction now, to run her fingers through his fine hair as he lay bundled against her on the couch. The TV took over, as it tends to do, but it wasn‟t the lame jokes or the canned laughter that prompted Savannah‟s smile. The look of relaxation on Eric‟s face as he faded into sleep did more for her than any drug possibly could.

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Chapter Six

The birds had barely begun chirping when Stacy‟s bedroom door clicked open. Savannah jumped—at least, she started to jump before realizing there was a man in her lap. Eric‟s sleeping head was damn heavy. Her heart leapt into her throat. She was stuck. She couldn‟t get up without tossing him off the couch or extracting herself by stealing off to the side. In an oversized T-shirt and pyjama pants, Stacy sleepwalked to the bathroom. When the door closed and locked behind her, Savannah relaxed just enough to mutter, “Shit,” as she tried to pull herself out from under Eric‟s head. Eric seemed to wake up at her hissed expletive, and just in time to see Savannah yank her legs out from under him. The right side of her dressing gown was not so easily extricated. He looked down and she looked where he was looking. With her robe caught under Eric‟s elbow, his lucky gaze landed smack against her bare bush. Savannah‟s blood ran cold. This was exactly what she‟d hoped for last night, but now it seemed so wrong. Why? Because it was unintentional or because Stacy was nearly awake and peeing just across the hall? Before Eric could say anything, Savannah yanked on her robe. Eric‟s elbow slid out from under him and his face landed flat against the cushion he‟d slept on in her lap. Savannah took advantage of the opportunity to run away. She didn‟t stop until she‟d reached her room, shut the door, and locked it. Once inside, she fell across the bed she hadn‟t slept in and gazed at herself in the mirror. After a time, she opened her robe and looked at her bush through Eric‟s eyes. That‟s when she smiled.

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**** After dressing fast as lightning, Savannah assembled her notes and grabbed her microbiology text. She‟d get more reading done at the library than she would at home— too many distractions on the couch and in her sock drawer. If she got enough work done during the day, she could fully relax during her date with Chris. Speeding past the kitchen with only a sheepish grin for Stacy‟s father, Savannah crammed her feet into a pair of shoes, hoping they were on the right feet, and rushed out the door. She hadn‟t even brushed her teeth before leaving, but gum was made for times like these. As she hopped down the stairs, Savannah instructed herself to think about Chris now so she wouldn‟t be distracted by pre-date imaginings later, when she tried to study. People laughed at her near-bureaucratic organizational skills, but her grades said it all. “A place for everything and everything in its place” applied not only to the objects in her apartment, but to thoughts in her mind. Savannah flashed her bus pass at the driver and took off her backpack before plopping herself down at a window seat. Was it ever early! The sun was barely in the sky. After her midnight coffee with Eric and this morning‟s early rise, would she even be able to stay awake for Chris‟ band? As she watched the Laundromat owner picking up litter outside her store, Savannah pictured Chris‟ scruffy exterior. She was attracted to him, right? His orange dreads and that weird beard certainly set him apart from everyone else in her program, but did she find him handsome? Alluring? Cute, even? Well, whatever. Looks weren‟t everything…though, she had a nagging suspicion she did find him cute not two days ago. Chris was a cool guy—he had that going for him, at least. Wait…why was he cool, again? What were these cool qualities she and

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Stacy had always agreed her possessed? Was it really just the dreads? Or was it the fact that he played in a band? Couldn‟t be that—Savannah wasn‟t even all that big on the garage bands playing their asses off in the crowded bars. Why did she need to go to a Kingsley‟s? Hell, she didn‟t even drink! She‟d so been looking forward to this date…and why? So she could wear an old Sailor Moon T-shirt to impress a guy who was probably no better than a rebellious trust fund brat? Savannah took another piece of gum from the pack and chewed in contemplation. **** When Savannah arrived home to change for her date, Stacy and her dad were nowhere to be found. She headed straight for her bedroom, where she felt somewhat ambivalent about not walking in on a naked Eric—it would have leant some excitement to a dry day—and dropped her backpack on the floor. Should she shower? Yes, she should shower. Aside from the fact that she smelled like stank, it would give Eric an opportunity to walk in on her naked, if he should so happen to arrive home as she stood in the unlocked bathroom. By the time she‟d showered and primped and searched all over the damn place for that Sailor Moon T-shirt without ever finding it, Eric and Stacy still hadn‟t arrived home. Savannah settled on her favourite white tank and jeans, and then stood in front of the mirror in evaluation mode. She looked pretty good, but what difference did it make? Look good for Chris? Who cares? He wouldn‟t give a damn if he looked good for her. He probably wouldn‟t even remember he‟d invited her. Why had she liked this guy?

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Better yet, why didn‟t she like him anymore? Savannah didn‟t let her mind hover over that question too long. She knew the answer, of course, but she wasn‟t too keen on admitting it to herself. The only way to get over someone was to get under someone, and she‟d spent last night with Stacy‟s dad snuggling against her thigh. Glancing at the time on the microwave, Savannah decided to make a quick pita wrap before heading off to an evening of loud music and ginger ale. Before she‟d even pulled the lettuce from the fridge, the front door opened and a smiling Eric pounced inside. “Savannah!” he cried, kicking his shoes off before tossing a few shopping bags on the couch. “Great! I‟m glad you‟re home. Look what I bought!” As Eric tore into his shopping bags, Savannah waited for the door to open again. It didn‟t. “Where‟s Stacy?” He looked to the front door and then to Stacy‟s bedroom door before shaking his head. “Oh, right. She said she was helping some guy set up for a gig.” Savannah nearly dropped the mayonnaise. “Some guy? What guy? Who guy?” Scratching his shoulder, Eric furled his brow like the name wasn‟t important. “I don‟t know. Chris, I think. His band‟s playing at that pub Stace took me to last night. She said you always spent Saturday nights at home and you wouldn‟t mind the company.” “What?” She didn‟t want Eric to feel insulted by her off-the-handle insanity, but, “What? She‟s with Chris? When did…what the hell?” Eric appeared increasingly confused as she stammered nonsense. Leaning into the back of the sofa, he pulled a box set out of his shopping bag. In absolute earnest he said, “Look, I bought us a whole collection of Lucy videos to watch. I thought we could

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do a marathon, of sorts. Stacy said you always spend your Saturday nights at home anyway…” It embarrassed Savannah that he knew such a thing about her. “But I told her Chris asked me to his gig…I told her I had plans…” Moving nothing but his lips, Eric said, “And I‟ve gone and ruined them.” His eyes shone such a charming shade of sky blue, Savannah couldn‟t but love him. “No,” she said, shaking her head. In her bare feet, she rushed from the tiled kitchen into the carpeted living room. She had to stop herself from throwing her arms around Stacy‟s dad and pressing her chest flush to his. Instead, she grabbed the cuffs of his white shirt and squeezed his wrists. The moment she touched him, an image flashed through her mind of the morning‟s…well…flash. She felt her eyes grow so large she feared they‟d pop out of their sockets like in cartoons. Releasing his wrists, she took a step back and stared at his striped socks. They made her smile. “No, it‟s not your fault. And a Lucy marathon sounds great, but this guy invited me…I mean, I told him I would come to see his band.” Her heart fluttered as she looked up into Eric‟s despairing eyes. “Hey, wanna come with?” “Oh.” He tossed his head back and smiled at the offer. “It‟ll be all young people.” Savannah gave him a teasing poke in the side. “From what Stacy‟s been telling me, it sounds like you‟ve been getting along very well with young people.” She tried to wink, but Savannah‟s attempted winks always looked like a medical condition. “Do you have something in your eye?” Eric asked.

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With a chuckle, she swept into the kitchen and put the makings of her wrap back in the fridge. “I was going to eat before heading out, but do you want to grab a bite at the pub instead?” “Yeah, sure,” Eric said with a big smile. “Are you sure you won‟t feel embarrassed, eating with a decrepit old man?” Savannah rolled her eyes as she grabbed her purse. “Whatever!” Half the girls on campus would be jealous to see her sharing a meal with Eric. She estimated only fifteen percent would envy Stacy acting as roadie for stupid crunchy-granola dreadlockhead. “Well, thanks for taking me out on the town,” Eric said as he slipped on his shoes. “I really need this.” Sticking her keys in the door, Savannah let an impish grin bleed across her lips. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

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Chapter Seven

It was a bit of a let-down to find the place wasn‟t packed. Sure, there were lots of people at the pub, but no more than any other Saturday night. Despite Savannah‟s mixed feelings toward Chris, she wanted his gig to go well. The stage was set but Chris‟ band hadn‟t taken it yet when the hostess in the short plaid skirt and clunky black boots showed them to a booth along the side wall. There were tables closer to the stage, but Savannah wasn‟t sure she wanted Chris to see her. Why? she wondered. Was it simply that she didn‟t want Chris to know she‟d shown up after he went and invited Stacy to be little miss roadie for his band? Or did Savannah not want Chris to see her with Eric? She wasn‟t sure yet. In fact, ever since Eric had come to stay, Savannah felt like her life had gone all topsy-turvy. Everything she‟d wanted before, she didn‟t want now, and now she wanted…new things…like… “Do you know what you want?” Gobsmacked, Savannah looked up at Eric. “Huh? Do I…what?” “Stace and I had fish and chips here yesterday,” he said without looking up from the menu. “It was a good plate of food, but I don‟t feel like the same thing two days in a row.” “Oh, right. I guess not.” Savannah‟s menu rested in front of her in all its filthy, laminated glory. She picked it up, avoiding the blob of dried ketchup covering the “E” in “Entrees.” Though she stared intently, she didn‟t see the words on the page. She only saw Eric, reading the bill of fare like it was a sacred tome.

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Resting his elbow on the table and his head in his hand, Eric set down his menu and smiled at Savannah. “So, what do you think? Any recommendations?” He looked like a child, striking that pose. She almost wanted to play the mommy and tell him to get his elbows off the table. “Sometimes I get the salmon wrap,” she told him. Sometimes she just ordered a big plate of fries, too, and drenched them in malt vinegar, but a distinguished man like Eric would never be impressed by a meal like that. Maybe they should have gone somewhere else to eat, and then come to the pub later on. “I was looking at that, actually.” His approval, such as it was, made her insides tingle. “Yeah, it‟s really good. They serve the salmon on a bed of nappa cabbage and slather it with basil mayo, and instead of, like, a normal tortilla wrap, they use naan.” Eric raised his eyebrows. He seemed impressed. “Sounds like dinner! I‟ll go with the salmon wrap.” Savannah felt a blush coming on, and she wasn‟t exactly sure why. “Yeah, I think I‟ll get the same. I‟ve kind of talked myself into it.” When the less-than-bubbly waitress came around, Eric ordered a salmon wrap for himself and another “for the lady.” That made Savannah smile so widely her very lips embarrassed her. She‟d never been “the lady” before. “Anything to drink?” their pale and pierced waitress asked. “Oh, that‟s right,” Eric laughed. “I‟m getting ahead of myself, aren‟t I? Ordering the meal before drinks! I‟ll have a glass of the house white. Should we make that two, Savannah?”

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At the mere mention of her name, Savannah‟s heart felt expansive and full. “No, that‟s okay. I actually don‟t drink.” Setting her hand across her warm chest, she looked to the waitress. “Ginger ale‟s good for me.” Eric gazed from the waitress to Savannah with an infusion of pity and compassion. “I‟m sorry,” he said in a tone that seemed way too heartfelt for the circumstance. “I didn‟t know that about you. In that case, I‟ll just have a ginger ale too.” “No, you don‟t have to do that,” Savannah assured him. He obviously thought she was a recovering alcoholic or religious fanatic or something. “It‟s really not a big deal. Have a glass of wine!” “No, no, no,” he said. “After the last two nights, my liver could probably use a break!” Painfully aware that the waitress was staring daggers at them for wasting her time, Savannah tried not to giggle. “Well, you‟re probably right about your liver.” She sent a smile across the table. It was too flirtatious for the waitress not to see, but Savannah was starting to care less and less. “But, seriously, get whatever you like. Don‟t keep yourself from drinking on my account.” Eric watched the waitress place their menus one top of the other on the table, and then scoop them up against her chest. He pursed his lips as if in deep contemplation, and then thumped a decisive fist against the tabletop. “I‟ll have a ginger ale, please.” Rolling her eyes in a not-so-subtle manner, much enhanced by her not-so-subtle eye shadow, the waitress said, “Two ginger ales and two salmon wraps. „Kay. No problem.”

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“I‟m sorry,” Eric said once she‟d gone. “I didn‟t realize you‟re a teetotaler. I hope I haven‟t offended you.” Savannah shook her head as emphatically as she could without giving herself whiplash. “No, don‟t be silly.” “I don‟t just mean tonight,” he went on. “I mean coming home drunk last night, and drinking all Stacy‟s rum the night before…” “You actually didn‟t seem all that wasted last night,” she assured him. “And the night before…well, I guess I didn‟t see you until the morning-after hangover. Anyway, it‟s not like I‟m sitting here judging people who drink. I‟m at a pub, aren‟t I?” Eric chuckled, offering an encouraging nod. “People always seem to think there‟s some serious reason why I don‟t drink. There really isn‟t.” Savannah took a sugar packet from the holder on the table, shook it against her palm, and then pushed it back in. “I‟ve had a drink or two in my life, but I never liked the way drinking made me feel—all wobbly and…I don‟t know…like I couldn‟t think straight. I didn‟t like that feeling, and I figured, why do something just because everybody else does? Or just because everybody else thinks it‟s weird not to? You know what I mean?” “I know exactly what you mean,” Eric confirmed as the waitress plonked their non-alcoholic beverages down on the table. She left before they could even say thank you. “Not big on service here, are they?” Savannah shrugged. “You‟re just used to wining and dining among sophisticates. This is how we insignificant people live.” With a teasing smile, she wiggled her eyebrows as she sipped her ginger ale.

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“Wicked girl.” Reaching across the table, Eric swatted her ear and laughed. “Respect your elders, young lady!” Narrowly avoiding her glass, Savannah swatted him in turn. The moment her fingers touched his soft blond hair, she was transported to the previous night, falling asleep while petting him like a puppy. She didn‟t need to look in a mirror to know the cocky smile had fallen from her face. It was obvious from the way he was looking at her—like, if there hadn‟t been a table between them, he would have swept her into his arms and kissed her until her clothes fell off. Savannah pulled back. She quickly grabbed her ginger ale, brought the straw to her mouth, and sipped while Eric looked out across Kingsley‟s pub. In an instant, his eyes brightened. “Hey, look! It‟s Stacy!” Though Eric waved both hands above his head to get his daughter‟s attention, Savannah didn‟t turn around. “Where is she?” “She can‟t see me from way over here.” Eric pointed toward the stage. “Look, she‟s helping the band get organized? Isn‟t this exciting? My daughter‟s a roadie!” Only a father could be so proud of his daughter for lending a hand to an unknown garage band in a dirty little pub. Savannah still couldn‟t bring herself to look. Stacy was probably up there canoodling with Dread Head. The very idea made her dizzy. How could she sit across from the very handsome Eric and be jealous that Stacy was over there stealing Chris from her? First of all, Chris was just another idealistic college boy. There were plenty like him. Sure, he possessed some intangible quality Savannah found immensely alluring, but she could actually put her fingers on all the personal characteristics she found charming in Eric. Eric had sparkling blue eyes, great

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hair, a magnificent body—which she‟d already seen naked—and he was generous, intelligent, funny, and had the kind of job Savannah believed in. Not just that, but they shared the same taste in food and television! “Oh, look, look!” Eric whispered, pointing to the stage. “Stacy‟s up there!” Savannah turned around just in time to catch Stacy‟s eye. Her pixie face alighted and she waved before wrapping her hand around the microphone. “Hey, everybody! Thanks for coming out tonight. Kingsley‟s has been kind enough to let me introduce a great new band called Circle Six. I listened in on their rehearsal this afternoon and, wow, they are amazing. You‟re going to love them. Trust me. So, I‟m just going to get out of the way and let them do their thing.” When Stacy slipped out from behind the microphone to climb down from the stage, Savannah bit down on her straw. No wonder she couldn‟t find that damn Sailor Moon shirt—Stacy was wearing it! And it looked damn good on her, too. Savannah had to sigh. What difference did it make now? She‟d rather impress Eric than Chris, and anyway, the shirt fit tiny little Stacy much better than it would have fit her. With Savannah‟s big boobs underneath it, the cartoon character would have looked like a lop-sided bobble-head. As Stacy took a seat right beside the stage, their waitress came around to deliver two salmon wraps and heaps of fries. Savannah had to peek around the waitress to see a mousy girl with long brown hair approach the microphone. Bringing her hair forward to cover her eyes, she said, “I get nervous in front of crowds, so I‟m just going to hide back here.” “Aww,” Eric whispered. “Poor thing, hiding behind her hair...”

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“I didn‟t know there was a girl in the band,” Savannah said, more to herself than to Eric. It was their waitress who responded. “She‟s got a really pretty voice, but she has, like, anxiety attacks about singing in public.” For some reason, Savannah had thought Chris was the band‟s lead singer. Maybe because he‟d mentioned songwriting when they spoke. But no, Chris stood stage left of the mousy girl and backed her up on the violin as a nerdy-looking Asian guy generated atmospheric percussive sounds from a laptop. “Bands sure have changed since I was young,” Eric whispered as he lifted his salmon wrap to his mouth. Savannah didn‟t respond right away. The music was so captivating she didn‟t even want to chew while the band played. And that waitress was right—damn, that girl could sing! Savannah couldn‟t exactly make out the lyrics, but the sound of her voice was entrancing. She watched Chris play, though the girl with the long hair largely blocked her view of him. He looked really into the music, like every ounce of his energy was going into producing this wonderful sound. “What kind of music would you call this?” Eric asked between bites of salmon wrap. Savannah hadn‟t even looked at her dinner yet. She spritzed her fries with malt vinegar before popping a few in her mouth. She didn‟t feel right about talking while the band was playing, and so she waited until their first song was done before answering. “I guess you could call this Trip Hop. It‟s almost ambient, but not quite. I think of ambient music as not having lyrics.”

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“Do you like it?” he asked her. Even with a mouthful of fries, Savannah nodded vigorously. “Yeah. Oh my god, I totally do. I thought they‟d be some stupid grunge revival band, but I love music like this.” She‟d already taken a bite of her salmon wrap before realizing she should ask, “Do you like it?” His voice was high and wavering when he answered, and that made Savannah think he was probably lying. “Yeah, it‟s very…mesmerizing. I usually prefer music with a stronger beat, but this is nice.” Chris was now at the microphone introducing the next song. As much as she wanted to listen to what he was saying, she just couldn‟t let herself. “You seem like the kind of person who would like classical music,” she said, to block out Chris‟ voice. With a nod, Eric said, “Yeah, I do, but if I had to choose a favourite it would be old school rock.” “How old school?” Savannah laughed. “Like Great Balls of Fire or like Smoke on the Water?” Eric laughed. “Smoke on the Water, I‟d say. Or, I don‟t know…I mean, The Doors would be the ultimate, right?” “Well, is this stuff so far off from The Doors?” Savannah considered. “I mean, really, it‟s not…” When the band started their next song, Savannah went instantly silent. Though she hated to do it, she turned away from Eric to watch, and picked food from her plate without looking in his direction. It wasn‟t just Chris who had her so entranced—it was the sound of Circle Six. She‟d never heard anything exactly like their music. Bands like

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theirs didn‟t get much press, or any radio airtime. If you wanted to listen to this type of music, you really had to seek it out. Savannah was glad she‟d stumbled upon this group, even if it was populated by freaks, geeks, and the guy who‟d so disappointed her. By the end of their set, Savannah had enjoyed her fill of fries, salmon, and ginger ale. Eric had cleaned his plate long before, and was obviously holding on for Savannah‟s sake. Even the waitress had pushed the bill in their direction. She obviously wanted to seat drinkers of alcohol, who would be inclined to leave her a larger tip. It seemed strange to Savannah, to think that her entire meal cost about the same price other people were willing to pay for one cocktail or glass of wine. But whatever. It was their money. “I guess Stacy‟s too busy with the band to come over and give her old dad a hug,” Eric said, gazing at his daughter as she climbed up on stage to embrace the band‟s three members. Savannah retreated behind the wall of their booth when Stacy started talking to Chris and pointing in their direction. Her heart thumped against her ribs. Were Stacy and Chris talking about her? Or was Stacy just saying, “Hey, look, that‟s my dad over there”? Or were they speculating about why, exactly, Savannah and Eric were eating dinner together? What were they saying? She wasn‟t going to wait to find out. Glancing at their bill, Savannah threw a pile of cash down on the table and tossed her bag over her shoulder. Without turning toward the stage, she slipped out of the booth and said to Eric, “Come on, let‟s get out of here.”

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“Oh. Okay, sure.” He appeared understandably confused, but shuffled out of the booth and followed her quick steps toward the door. The sweet aroma on the night air calmed her buzzing head. For a moment, she simply stood on the sidewalk outside Kingsley‟s and wondered what to do. Right was the direct route home. Left was the scenic path along the river. There were plenty of benches under trees and burnt-out path lights, perfect for making out in public. It was such a romantic walk, that way. Midweek, she‟d imagined she‟d be taking it with Chris, but Chris was, apparently, indisposed. Savannah looked both ways, and then turned toward the river.

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Chapter Eight

“I hope you won‟t find it churlish if I throw a little cash your way,” Eric said, taking his wallet from his back pocket and pulling out a few bills. “To cover dinner, I mean. It‟s not because you‟re a girl…I mean, a woman…or…well, it‟s only because you‟re the student and I‟m the one with the full-time job, and it‟s only fair. Right?” Savannah stopped walking to lean against the barrier separating the cobblestone path from the moonlit river. His distinguished male feminism made her smile. “Put your money away,” she said, pressing her hand against the bills and his fingers. A spark passed between them. Savannah couldn‟t ignore it, but she couldn‟t acknowledge it either. The heady atmosphere of rushing water and pine-scented moonlight made her bold. Eric must have felt the same way, because he moved his hand slowly toward Savannah‟s purse, unzipped the outer pocket, and pushed his money inside. Her pelvis quaked as she watched his fingers press that money between fold of supple leather. Already, her body was wet for him, and still the night was young! “Have you ever cheated on your wife?” Savannah asked. She felt somewhat like a precocious child, looking him straight in his sparkling blue eyes as she posed the question. Yesterday, she‟d hoped and prayed the topic of his wife‟s affair wouldn‟t come up. Now she was pushing for it. Her motives were transparent, even to her—if she got Eric bummed about his cheating wife, maybe he‟d be more inclined to give Savannah a go. Eric seemed to hold his breath for a strangely long time before releasing it in a loud puff. “No,” he said. “I‟ve never cheated.”

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Grabbing his hand, Savannah sauntered with him along the riverside path. “Have you ever wanted to?” When he went quiet, Savannah was certain his response would be momentous. Eric wove his fingers through hers and squeezed her hand tight. “I never considered it for a moment until Hilary…” He gazed out onto the river. “…until she did what she did. And now, yes, I hate myself for it, but I want to get back at her. It feels so wrong, this desire to hurt the mother of my child, but…” “It‟s payback,” Savannah said simply. “That‟s exactly what it would be, yes.” Eric let go of her hand and slowed his pace. “But I don‟t want revenge sex. I mean, I do, but I don‟t. I‟m not that type of person. I‟ve never made love to a woman I didn‟t love. It‟s always seemed pointless until…” Savannah waited, and when he said nothing she asked, “Until now?” Her heart nearly stopped beating as she waited for his response. She looked to his eyes, but he was still gazing out across the river. His shoulders rose and fell as he took in each breath, and his brow furled as though an internal struggle demanded to be expressed outwardly. She couldn‟t stand by and do nothing. Easing her hands around his middle, Savannah pulled Eric‟s body close to hers. He jerked away, but there was nowhere left to go. His backside met with the firm barrier, and he was trapped between Savannah and the river. A rush of feminine wile roared through Savannah‟s body. She‟d never in her life felt so seductive. The harder she squeezed Eric‟s chest against hers, the less he squirmed. Finally, his body weakened, gave up, and then responded.

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Taking Savannah‟s face in his decisive hands, Eric jerked her head forward. He didn‟t kiss her—not at first. His mouth simply hovered against hers as he released tormented, ginger-sweet breath. Passion lingered all around, and the air felt static and thick. Finally, in one violent move, Eric pressed his trembling lips against hers. His body shuddered. She squeezed him tighter. His hard cock pressed against her belly until her panties pooled with warm wetness. How much longer could she stand this sensation of lips on lips before she‟d have to kiss him fully? She didn‟t have to wait long at all. Within seconds, Eric launched his tongue between her lips and kissed her like a man maddened by passion. Grasping the back of her head with one hand, Eric sent the other searching her body for anything it could squeeze—her ass, he hips, her thighs, her tits. She did the same, running frenzied hands along his back and clutching his tight ass. “My god, you have a great butt,” she whimpered. “My god, so do you!” he hissed into her ear before pulling her back into a kiss from which there was no escape, physical or emotional. She was trapped between the hot silken walls of Eric‟s mouth. He might never set her free. As he kissed her, he wrapped firm fingers around her neck. Without warning, he plunged his other hand down the front of her jeans. Savannah gasped, but Eric would not set her free from his mouth. His fingers swept by her belly before crawling through her bush. She couldn‟t believe he was doing something so gritty, but there was no denying it. His fingers found her wetness—not that finding pussy juice under Savannah‟s panties was such a difficult task. Hell, her jeans

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were sopping! She couldn‟t remember the last time she‟d been so turned on by a man‟s fingers. She tried to watch for passersby, but the night was dark and any other couple walking along this stretch was probably there for the same damn reason. Besides, who could be offended by such beautiful passion? God, how they must look together— gorgeous blond Eric squeezing supple young Savannah‟s firm breast while he played with her clit under a layer of denim. She could see them together in her mind. That vision of enthusiasm encouraged her to rub her mound against his fingers as he stroked her. What would happen if she touched him too? How would he respond to his daughter‟s roommate, a college student, unbuckling his belt and reaching inside his pants? Would he realize this had gone too far? Or would he give in to her once and for all? People were walking by—she could sense the presence of others. Savannah opened her eyes to look over Eric‟s shoulder, but he only swept her around so she was now pinned between his body and the wrought iron river barrier. She met the gaze of a couple goth girls walking hand-in-hand. One laughed, and then the other did too. “Breeders.” “Ignore them,” Eric growled. His breath was so hot and humid it baked her ear and wet her hair. “Touch me, Savannah. Please, just touch me.” The invitation brought a surge of electricity racing to her clit. Her legs nearly gave out as he pronounced her name, and she could only thank heaven she was pinned between a man and a wall. She was brave. She was bold. When she plunged her hand

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inside Eric‟s pants and took hold of him, she was never so happy to be a “breeder.” His cock was firm and fat. It felt good in her hand and it would feel even better, she knew, in her pussy. Savannah‟s head seemed to spin. As Eric played with her engorged clit, she formed a fist around his erection and pumped. He made all sorts of sounds as she worked him—sighs and wheezes, screeches and moans—and every one amused her and drove her to produce more. Every noise he made said to her, “Savannah, you‟re gorgeous. I love what you do to me. You work my cock like a vixen. Nobody‟s ever touched me like you have.” Eric wrapped his palm around her mound and pressed the meat of it against her clit. His hold on her was so firm he nearly lifted her off her feet. Every slight motion up or down brought a tremble straight to her core. Her juice was everywhere as he snuck a finger up inside her slit. And another. And then he ceased all motion. She looked into his eyes to see what was wrong, but met only a masterly tease. Her heart pounded in her chest as a vicious smile crept across his lips. He was playing her, and he was in charge. He wasn‟t going to move an inch, and if she wanted to get off on his firm fingers and the flesh of his palm, she‟d have to damn well do it herself. Fine, Eric. Savannah could play that way. If he wanted to get off on her fist, he wouldn‟t get any more help from her. She‟d hold his cock tight, sure. She‟d let that big boy drool precum all over her fingers, fine. But would she jerk him off? Would she even move a muscle? Hell no!

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When Eric read the look of childish petulance in her eyes, he bit his lip with a pointed canine. “You want to get off?” he asked. “What are you going to do about that?” “Easy,” Savannah replied. Writhing against his palm, she jerked her hips in slow circles. With every thrust, his fingers fucked her and his hand stoked her clit. He was close to her, locked against her body by the hand inside her jeans. She could feel his breath all over as she held her fist steady around his cock. As she moved her hips, he moved his. Eric‟s erection attempted escape—she felt his smooth flesh curl up around his drooling cockhead—but escape was not allowed. When she closed her fingers tight as she could around his tip, Eric moaned and thrust his cock back through her fist. As he thrust, she writhed. Though his cock and her pussy were separated by four layers of clothing, their hands brought them together. She could hardly ignore the impact on her faculties as she forced his fingers inside her pussy. Grinding against his palm, she worked her hips hard. His fingers filled her slit. The wave was coming to knock her over. The climax was inevitable. Her sighs became grunts. She had to kiss him to keep from releasing a scream that would have brought the entire police force to her rescue. As she kissed him and writhed against his hand, he thrust his cock through her fist. She could taste his desire on his tongue. He grabbed her ass and squeezed it hard as he kissed her, and his lust brought hers to a fever pitch. She could feel her pussy clenching, clinging to his fingers, begging them to stay inside her forever. They were perfectly placed, hitting just the right spot. When she rubbed her clit on his palm, her whole body exploded, cell by cell, centralized in her tingling bud and flowing out to her fingertips.

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Savannah‟s knees went weak. As she gave her weight over to Eric, she felt his muscles tighten. His body shuddered. When he yelped, Savannah felt a hot stream of cum against her forearm. It met her bare flesh in warm spurts, one after another. Her breath followed suit, tumbling from her lungs in currents of pure fulfillment. For a moment, Savannah didn‟t move and neither did Eric. The air between them was thick with excised lust. His sweet breath met her lips as he backed away, gazing at her in disbelief all the while. “Did that really happen?” he chuckled, extracting his hand from Savannah‟s jeans. Leaving Eric‟s spent cock inside his pants, she looked down at her arm and giggled with nerves. “If it didn‟t really happen, god only knows where this came from.” “Sorry,” Eric said. They both stared at the drizzle of cum down her arm. When the awkwardness of the situation started to set in, Savannah giggled again and looked out across the water. “Guess I‟d better wash this off, huh?” “Where? In the river?” She didn‟t wait for him to finish before tossing one leg and then the other over the wrought iron fence. “Might as well.” The look on his face was positively paternal. “Well…be careful, okay?” She very nearly said, “Yes, father,” just as a joke, but the more she thought about it, the less amusing it became. Instead, she said, “Don‟t worry. I‟ve done this a hundred times,” and left it at that. Setting one hand on the crumbling ground underfoot, Savannah attempted her way down the steep incline.

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“Careful,” Eric said once again. As she looked up at him, she pressed her foot down against a sapling, but it didn‟t have the strength to support her weight. It bent. She slipped. Though she grasped the dirt with both hands, she began to slide down the hill. Savannah tried to get herself upright, but that was exactly the wrong thing to do. Her ankle twisted, and after that she couldn‟t do jack to help herself. The pain shot up through her leg, and she hollered in agony as she tumbled down toward the river.

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Chapter Nine

“Savannah!” Eric cried. “Christ, what did I tell you? Are you all right?” She turned her head just in time to catch Eric hopping the fence and sidestepping his way down loose dirt. “It‟s just my ankle,” she said. “I‟ll walk it off. I‟m fine.” Fortunately, falling flat on her butt stopped her from plummeting into the river, but even at a standstill, her ankle hurt like hell. “What a stupid thing to do,” Eric went on. Savannah didn‟t mind—in fact, she would have been offended if his concern wasn‟t so obvious. His hand trembled as he reached for her cheek. “It‟s okay,” she assured him, kissing the palm that had so recently been nestled against her clit. Her arm was now covered in dirt. She tried to be subtle about it as she wiped his mud-splattered cum off against her jeans. “Just help me up and I‟ll be fine,” she said, offering a fake smile. “Don‟t worry.” He seemed to believe her about as much as she believed herself. Digging his feet into the dirt, he grabbed her by the naked underarms and heaved her up. The minute she put pressure on her left foot, an electric shock shot up her leg. She shrieked again and tumbled down, very nearly dragging Eric with her. But no. He had her and he held her tight. “See?” he said. “You‟re not fine. You can‟t even stand up.” “It‟s okay,” she repeated. How could she possibly convince him he didn‟t have to worry? “Let‟s just get back up to the walkway.” He looked down at her, then up toward the railing, and then back down at her. “Do you have a cell phone? We‟re going to have to put you in an ambulance.”

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Panic erupted in her chest. As if she wasn‟t embarrassed enough already! How humiliating would it be to spend her night with Eric in the emergency room? “No,” she said in the flat sort of tone no man could argue with. “I told you I‟m fine. All we have to do is get back up that hill.” He took a deep breath and then asked again, “Do you have a phone with you?” She didn‟t want to lie to him, so she didn‟t answer the question. “Please,” she begged. “Don‟t make a big deal out of this. Just…please, let‟s go home.” For a moment, Eric stood very still beside her. When that moment had passed, he descended to his hands and knees in the dirt. “Let‟s try this: can you climb on to my back?” “Yeah,” Savannah said before thinking it through. She‟d have to throw her left leg over his backside, and she wasn‟t sure she had that much control over its functions at the moment. So, instead, she propped herself up on her right hand and her right knee before grabbing his far shoulder with her left hand. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she slid her front against his back until she was so close she could nearly taste him. “Okay,” she said. “I‟m on board.” Reaching into the dirt, Eric propelled them both forward. It was slow-going, but he managed to crawl up the incline with Savannah clinging to his back. “Hardly heroic,” he laughed, gripping the very sapling that had betrayed Savannah earlier. “Sure it is.” Savannah felt guilty that she‟d roped him into saving her and also managed to make him feel like he wasn‟t doing a good job of it. “You found a way to get me out of this mess when nothing else would work. Of course that‟s heroic.”

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Tugging on the sapling, Eric propelled them further up the hill. “Crawling on my hands and knees like a dog hardly qualifies as heroic.” “I don‟t know.” Savannah chuckled despite the pain. “Some of my best memories involve being on my hands and knees like a dog.” He didn‟t seem to hear her as he reached out for the wrought iron fence. They were nearly at the top! Savannah breathed a sigh of relief into Eric‟s ear as he went on, “Heroic is throwing the girl over your shoulder and carrying her from a burning building.” “Well, how about you carry me over your shoulder on the way home?” she teased. The pain in her ankle decreased every time she laughed, and the idea of Eric carrying her down the street certainly had that effect. “I think we really need to be on solid ground before you get all heroic on my ass.” “Hold on tight,” Eric said as he clung to the fence and pulled them both upright. Savannah struggled to plant her right foot firmly on the ground without letting the left one set down. She hopped in place as Eric slid his arm around her waist. “How‟s that? Are you okay?” “Yeah,” she said, meaning the word more than she had the last few times she‟d said it. “I‟m just not sure how I‟m going to hop back over this fence.” Overlapping voices echoed along the path. The same two hand-holding goth girls they‟d encountered earlier sauntered back along the walkway. “Oh, thank god,” Eric said. His tone struck Savannah as truly grateful. “Girls, I‟m sorry to intrude, but would you mind giving us a hand over here? My friend here slipped and hurt her ankle. Do you think I could pass her over the fence to you both?”

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“If you dip her in chocolate first,” one whispered to the other. They both chuckled like the stuck-up front-row girls in her classes, who laughed like hyenas at every little joke the professors cracked. But Savannah shouldn‟t be so harsh. After all, they were coming over to help. “Ready for this?” Eric asked, wedging one of his feet through the fence. Without waiting for an answer, he slipped one hand around Savannah‟s shoulder, with the other nestled just below her hip. Picking her up, he heaved her into the waiting hands of the goth girls across the fence. The taller girl with shorter hair grabbed hold of Savannah‟s underarms while the shorter girl with longer hair held on to her butt and her thigh. She‟d never felt so many random hands all over her body! The sheer thrill of that mosh-pit sensation made her forget about the pain in her ankle. That moment of ebullience didn‟t last too long. When the girls set her down on the walkway, the pain came surging back. She held on to the fence and hopped on her right foot, thanking the goth girls effusively. From now on, she planned on being nicer to freaky chicks. The girl with long dark hair and a sparkling red necklace brought a cell phone from her purse. “Are you okay? I can call you an ambulance, if you want.” “No, no,” Savannah replied, waving her free hand. “No, I‟ll be fine. Thank you for your help, but I‟m good now. Crisis averted.” Eric sprang over the fence, seemingly full of adrenaline after dragging a broken Savannah up the hill. In one fluid motion, both goth girls turned to him but said nothing. “Thank you both,” Eric gushed.

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They demurred with him. When they mumbled, “No problem,” they didn‟t seem more than teenagers. With great effort, Savannah convinced the girls she required no further assistance, beyond that which her white knight could provide. Once the goth girls had sauntered off hand in hand, Eric turned to Savannah and asked, “Shall we?” “One second,” she replied. Clinging to the wrought iron fence with one hand, she reached out with the other and latched on to Eric‟s dirty white shirt. She wrapped her fist around the fabric and looked him in the puzzled eye, trying to appear seductive and not the least bit in pain. Pulling him in, she kissed him with the full force of her gratitude. For a moment, he didn‟t react. He was probably too stunned. After one melting moment, Eric reached his hands around her hips and pulled her into a scorching embrace. As long as she didn‟t let her left foot touch the ground, she could feel no pain. There was only pleasure in Eric‟s forceful touch. His kiss sent her mind reeling off in all directions before spinning back like a dizzy top to its starting point. He‟d asked her a very simple question: “Shall we?” Tearing her lips from his, Savannah watched Eric‟s eyelids flutter open. She answered, “We shall.” A devilish smile broke across Eric‟s lips. “Get ready for this,” he warned her as he tightened his grip on her hips. “One, two, three…alley oop!” Savannah used her good foot to push off the ground. With a heaving grunt, Eric hoisted her up and over his shoulder. Her belly landed with breathtaking blow right next to his neck and her front hung down his back like a rolled-up carpet. “Well?” she chuckled, though thoroughly winded. “Do you feel heroic now?”

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“You bet!” Eric shot back. “Just wait until I get you alone!” She smacked his ass, he smacked hers, and they were homeward bound.

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Chapter Ten

Not a moment too soon, Eric dropped Savannah down on the couch. “Christ Almighty!” she hollered, laughing through the pain. “I‟m not a deer carcass, man! You gotta be ginger with me.” “Only if you‟ll be Fred with me.” Savannah heard the freezer door open, but she couldn‟t force her body high enough to see over the back of the couch. Her ankle panged with every movement. “What the hell are you talking about?” With a bag of frozen vegetables in each hand, Eric clarified. “Fred Astair and Ginger Rogers—Fred and Ginger?” Though she rolled her eyes, she couldn‟t help laughing. “That‟s what I call a dad joke,” she told him. “My dad and my uncles are always making stupid jokes like that. They are so not funny, but I still laugh every time.” Eric‟s tone was slightly less playful when he said, “Well, I am a dad, after all…” “Don‟t remind me.” With her head on a couch cushion, Savannah looked up at him. She could tell he was searching her expression for some clue as to how he should react. The conversation could have gone too deep too fast, and Savannah wasn‟t ready for that yet. She smiled, and he followed suit. “So,” he went on, showcasing his bags of frozen vegetables. “Peas or beans? Pick your poison.”

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“Are those French cut beans with the little bits of onion and red pepper?” she teased, imitating the girls from the neighbourhood back home. “Hell, them‟s fancy! I‟ll take „em.” With a waiterly nod, Eric stole a pillow from the opposite end of the couch. He cleared away study notes and magazines before placing it on the coffee table. On top of the pillow, he set the frozen French beans and then helped Savannah squirm into an upright position on the couch. It hurt like hell when she extended her foot, but once she‟d set her ankle down on the frozen vegetables, the pain began to subside. She knew how easy it was to experience a psychosomatic placebo effect, even from something as simple as food from the freezer, but she was glad for the relief either way. “What are you doing with the peas?” she laughed as he sat down beside her and shoved the bag behind him. “Inventing a new cooling system?” “That too.” He let his head fall to rest on the back of the couch before letting out an aching moan. “My back is killing me! Remind me not to carry any more college girls across town on my shoulder.” She raised her eyebrow at him, but he wasn‟t looking. The ache humming through her body, along with the painkillers she‟d pulled from her purse on the jerky back-ride home, had her feeling giddy and loose. “Hey, man, you wanted to be the hero.” “Never again,” he vowed, hand to heart. “I‟m too old for heroics.” “I‟ve already argued with you enough on that point. From now on when you say you‟re old, I‟m just going to agree with you.”

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Something buzzed in the front hall. For a split second, Savannah cringed at the thought of Stacy walking through that door and ruining the flirtatious repartee she had going on with her roommate‟s father. As the buzzing continued, Savannah realized she‟d put her phone on vibrate while Chris‟ band played its set. She‟d never changed it back to ring. “Damn it! That‟s my cell.” Savannah tried to ease herself up from the couch, but instantly fell back down. “It‟s in my purse, by the door.” With a deep moan, Eric shot up. He very nearly tripped on Savannah‟s legs as he crawled over them, but he made it to the front hall and unzipped her purse before the very persistent caller could give up. “Oh,” he said when he looked at the call display. With a smile on his face, he took the call. “Hello!” “No!” Savannah hissed. “What…are…you…doing?” The person on the other end was obviously talking over live music because Savannah could make out every word, even from across the room. “Hey…who…dad? Is that you?” “No, it‟s Savannah‟s new boyfriend,” he replied, but the joke fell flat. “Yeah, it‟s me. What‟s up?” “Why are you answering Savannah‟s phone? Where are you guys?” He ignored the first question and simply said, “At home. Where are you?” Stacy was overtaken by background noise. A long moment went by before she said, “Can I just talk to Savannah please?” Holding the phone in the air, Eric shrugged his shoulders and mouthed, “Kids!”

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Savannah hadn‟t forgotten Stacy‟s betrayal with the whole Chris situation. She took the phone and snapped, “What?” “Uh…Savannah?” The various bar noises nearly drowned her out. “Your dad can still hear you, so don‟t say anything you‟ll live to regret.” Stacy laughed. “Damn it! Cause I called about our plot to assassinate the Archduke Ferdinand. I guess that can wait until later.” Savannah released a heavy breath. “Yeah, right.” “Anyway,” Stacy went on, “I just wanted to check up on you. I saw you at Kingsley‟s, and then you were gone. Chris was asking…” With an incredulous cackle, Savannah looked at her phone and shook her head before nestling it back against her ear. “Okay, well I‟m home now, so…whatever.” “Sorry to dump my dad on you. I know he‟s a basket case these days.” Savannah looked up at Eric to see if he‟d heard what his daughter just said about him. He had. “No, it‟s fine,” Savannah said to Stacy. “Really. We‟re having fun together.” When she gazed back up at Eric, he smiled. At the other end of the phone, Stacy bubbled with laughter. “Should I be scared?” she teased. “Maybe if I keep leaving you two alone together, you‟ll end up as my new step-mom!” Savannah could tell by the tone of Stacy‟s voice that it was purely a joke, but her heart seized nonetheless. If she hadn‟t been pinned by pain and frozen vegetables to the couch, she would have scampered to her room for the rest of their conversation. “Oh, gross.” Savannah didn‟t want to say too much against Eric as he listened in, but

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she knew if she didn‟t Stacy might get suspicious. “Don‟t even make me think about dad sex. You‟re going to make me hurl!” She cast Eric a look that said, “I‟m sorry!” and he returned one that said, “I understand.” “So, anyway,” Stacy laughed. “I‟m not coming home tonight. Can you tell my dad I‟m staying with…I don‟t know…some friend or whatever?” Some friend? Some friend like Chris, maybe? God! Savannah‟s blood boiled at the thought, but who else could Stacy‟s sleep-over buddy be? He certainly seemed to have taken a liking her, and at Kingsley‟s she‟d been all over stupid dread-head and his whole stupid band! If Savannah‟d gritted her teeth any harder, they‟d have turned to chalk. “Fine,” she seethed. “Fine. I‟ll tell him. I‟ve got to go. Bye.” She hung up without waiting for Stacy‟s reply, and immediately set her phone to silence. When she looked back up at Eric in his dirty white shirt, she forced a smile. “What was all that?” he asked. How could she tell him about Chris? Wouldn‟t Eric feel somewhat betrayed if he knew she‟d made a date with another guy that evening, even if that other guy had gone after his damn daughter? “Stacy‟s not coming home. She wants me to tell you she‟s staying with a friend tonight.” He raised an eyebrow. “And where is she really staying, pray tell?” “I honestly don‟t know,” she said with a shrug. When she read the concern on his face, she quickly tried to repair the damage. “But don‟t worry. Stacy has a good head on her shoulders. She would never put herself in a bad situation.”

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Eric quickly pressed his fingers to his eyes, his ears, and then his mouth. “See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.” With an encouraging chuckle, Savannah eased her foot from its pillow of frozen beans. Her ankle didn‟t feel so bad as she pushed herself up from the couch. In fact, her ankle was so numb from cold it didn‟t feel anything. Hobbling to Eric way across the room, she threw her arms around his shoulder— for affection, but also for support. “You know what this means?” When he smiled, his pointed canine teeth seemed to emerge first from between two of the pinkest lips the world had ever seen. “I don‟t know.” He put his arms around her waist and rocked her side to side. “What does it mean?” He leaned down as she leaned up, and their lips met in the middle. “We have the apartment to ourselves,” she cooed before kissing him once more. This time, she was forceful about it. It was a kiss he couldn‟t possibly say no to. He squeezed her…and he winced. “Oh my god, what‟s wrong?” Savannah hobbled backwards on her tender foot. “Jesus Christ!” she cried out in pain, letting herself fall back onto the couch. “Are you okay?” “Yeah,” Eric said, clutching his lower back as he joined her on the couch. “Are you?” “I guess…” She stared at her foot, infuriated by its magnificent ability to spoil an evening. “Stupid damn ankle. Are you sure ice is supposed to work?” Eric laughed as he adjusted his frozen peas. “You‟re asking me? You‟re the biology major!”

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“Bio-chem major,” she corrected him. His faith in her knowledge made her skin tingle, but she didn‟t let that show. “And that makes me a paramedic now, does it? I study molecular damn molecules! You‟re the dad—aren‟t dads supposed to know the cure for every ailment?” “No, you‟re thinking of moms,” he chuckled. His brow furled for a moment. Was he thinking about his wife, Stacy‟s mother? How must it feel to be cheated on, and with someone so much younger than himself? Savannah could hardly blame Eric for feeling like crap in all this. But, of course, wasn‟t Eric doing exactly what his wife had done to him? Was it retribution? Because it didn‟t feel like that, to Savannah. It felt like he was fond of her and attracted to her, and all that had happened had been a part of some cosmic sexual flow. If she were in his situation, she‟d likely feel redeemed in having an affair of her own. Eric shook his head and recovered with a smile. “Anyway, what do you think? Ice or heat?” “Maybe both?” Savannah had a vague recollection of taking a first aid course once, but she would have been eleven years old at the time. The material covered wasn‟t exactly fresh in her mind. “I think we‟re supposed to go back and forth—hot, cold, hot, cold.” A roguish smirk drew across Eric‟s lips. “You‟re putting ideas in my head.” As he leaned in close, she leaned in too. She‟d very nearly surrendered herself to another of Eric‟s impassioned kisses when she noticed the streaks of dirt down his neck and his shirt and his bare arms. “You are a dirty boy,” she teased, tracing her

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finger along his jaw line. “Maybe we ought to put you in the shower with a nice bar of soap.” “I was just thinking the same thing,” Eric whispered in her ear. “Except I figured we might put me in the shower with a nice naked Savannah.” As always, her name on his tongue sent tingles up her spine. How could she possibly say no when Eric could turn her on using nothing but words? Wrapping her fingers around the dirty fabric of his white lapels, Savannah pulled him into an inescapable kiss. “Let‟s do it,” she cooed. “Get me hot.”

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Chapter Eleven

He‟d undressed almost entirely before she‟d even stood up from the couch. Even though she‟d seen him naked before, the experience seemed very different this time. When she‟d walked in on him changing, she‟d felt bold and he‟d seemed bashful. This time, Savannah was the blushing babe. His chest was so white and his nipples were so pink. If she hadn‟t been so close to him, she‟d never have known he had any chest hair at all—it was even blonder than the hair on his head. When Eric dropped his pants, Savannah tried to look away, but her gaze kept floating back to the cock she‟d given a hand job earlier in the evening. She‟d jerked him off without even getting a close look at the bad boy. Now she would remedy that fault by reaching out and skimming its satin underside with her fingertips. The muscles in Eric‟s abdomen rippled when she pressed the pad of her thumb against his piss slit. As she worked little circles around it, his cockhead eased out clear and fragrant precum. Without a thought, she bent forward to lick it. His precum tasted like sugar water and flowers—nothing like actual cum, granted it had been a long while since she‟d tasted the stuff. “Hey, what are you doing?” Eric‟s voice trembled in time with the muscles in his legs. “I thought we were taking a shower together.” Savannah wrapped her fist around his shaft and felt it firm up in her hand. That sensation, and the knowledge that her simple touch aroused a change in his body, made her heart beat fast. To say she was excited would be an understatement. “Well,” she said. “Get me there and we will.”

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Stepping out of his pants, Eric offered an unmistakable growl as he lifted Savannah from the couch. He didn‟t throw her over his shoulder this time—he‟d learned his lesson, she imagined—but held her by the underarms as she clung to him. “How is your ankle feeling?” Their injuries were hardly romantic discussion territory, but Eric‟s concern warmed Savannah‟s heart. “The ice must have helped. It really doesn‟t hurt as much, but I‟m still going to keep the pressure off it, if I can.” Stacy must have cleaned the bathroom at some point, because it looked unusually sparkling. Eric set Savannah to rest on the closed lid of the toilet before pulling open the trendy pink and brown shower curtain. When he turned to face her again, Savannah put her hands above her head. “Take off my clothes?” For a moment, he stood staring, and then he shook his head and smiled. “You can‟t take off your own clothes?” he teased, stepping forward to straddle her closed legs. His hard cock rested against her white tank top, drizzling precum across it as he reached down to grab the hem. “Or did you twist your wrists as well as your ankle?” “I just need a little help,” she replied, playing the innocent as he pulled up on her white cotton top. She closed her eyes until her tank was over her head. Eric‟s erection fell to rest in her cleavage, and she gasped at the sensation of his tender pinkish flesh against her darker skin. Unclasping her bra, she let it fall to the floor. When her big tits tumbled forward, Eric reached out to catch them in a move Savannah found both bold and arousing. Easing his cock in between her breasts, Eric pressed them together. Right away, he threw his head back and sighed. She loved that he could derive so much pleasure

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from the feel of her flesh against his. Her tits enveloped him like a warm blanket. She wanted to be that for Eric, after everything he‟d been through. She wanted to make him feel safe and happy and, more than anything else, attractive. There were so many things she could do to make him feel good about himself. Her first move was to wrap gentle hands around his balls as he rocked his cock between her breasts. Eric gasped. He forced Savannah‟s head in close to his chest before grabbing a renewed hold of her boobs. As he squeezed the pair even tighter together, she licked his pert pink nipples. His skin tasted salty. She loved it. When he fucked her tits, she felt porn-star dirty. The very idea of a hard cock lodged between her supple breasts, plunging through her cleavage, aroused her body as much as her imagination. “If I keep doing this much longer, I‟m going to come before we even get your pants off,” Eric warned her. Savannah squeezed his balls and he tossed his blond head way back with a yelp. Then, in one taunting motion, she released him from her grasp and dusted her hands against her jeans. “In that case, we‟d better get the shower going. I‟m not leaving this bathroom until I‟ve been fucked stupid.” With a gasp at her dirty mouth, Eric dropped his dick from her tits. As it hung long and strong between his legs, a damning thought occurred to Savannah: shouldn‟t they use something? Would a condom stay put in the shower? Did they really need to use one at all? It seemed juvenile, she realized, but she just damn well didn‟t want to. She wanted to feel his hard cock inside her pussy, unhindered even by latex. “What‟s wrong?” he asked softly. Obviously he‟d noted her apprehension. “You‟re having second thoughts?”

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“No!” she cried. She had to laugh at the force of her own desire. In case he wasn‟t inclined to believe her, she sprang up, leaned her back against the bathroom door, and squirmed out of her jeans. “No, not at all. I was just thinking about…you know, protection or whatever.” Savannah‟s effort to come across as nonchalant only made her feel juvenile, and it came as such a relief when Eric said, “Oh, I probably didn‟t mention I‟ve had a vasectomy.” “Seriously?” Savannah slipped her panties down after her jeans. Eric‟s gaze followed them to the floor before jumping back up to her bush. He grinned like a stupid teenager before saying, “Huh? Seriously? Yeah, of course seriously. Why would I lie?” Utterly naked, Savannah reached out for Eric‟s arm and hopped close to him. Her ankle twinged when she let her big toe touch the ground, but that pain was superceded by pleasure as Eric‟s cock rose to meet her thigh. She shrugged and smiled and teased him. “Why would you lie? To win my trust, maybe. To get your big fat cock all up inside my tight little snatch without the interference of prophylactics?” She grabbed his erection for emphasis and his whole body jerked forward. It took all her strength to keep them both from barreling back into the door. “Well, what about you, little miss college girl?” He returned her tease, grabbing her naked breast and squeezing it against his palm. “Why should I trust that you‟re not rife with disease? Huh? You could be giving it out all over town for all I know.” “I could be,” she agreed, stroking his exposed dick. “But I‟m not. I am one hundred percent disease-free.”

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“Well, me too.” Eric rocked his hips, sending his big cock hurdling through Savannah‟s fist. “Hell, I haven‟t slept with anyone but my wife since…” Savannah looked up at Eric and knew just what he was thinking: sure, he hadn‟t slept with anybody else, but his wife had. Who was this young guy from her office? Was he safe? Had there been others? How many were there? Maybe Savannah was being unwise, but she didn‟t care about all the potentials. She wanted to feel big blond Eric deep inside her pussy, and totally, utterly naked. With his penis still in her grasp, Savannah hobbled to the tub and sat on the ledge. Even as she turned on the hot and cold, feeling the water for temperature, she pulled on his dick. His white flesh eased toward his luscious pink cockhead with every stroke. When she turned on the shower spray, Eric hopped right in, closing the curtain right up to the spot where Savannah sat. She moved her tender ankle inside. Eric stepped closer, so the spray struck only his hair before flowing down his back and his butt and his muscular thighs. The warm flow coursed around Savannah‟s foot. After her tumble down the riverbank, and the dirt and the pain, clean water felt wonderful. Even the scent of the stream as it played on Eric‟s skin made her feel a little better. Warm droplets trickled down Eric‟s chest to mingle with his precum as she rubbed him. Wetness gave way to wetness, and she lunged at his cock. She took it in her mouth. He gasped and said, “Savannah,” setting his hand on her head. The water followed this new path. It skimmed Savannah‟s hair before streaming off into the bathroom. Shit! She didn‟t want Stacy to come home to a sopping wet apartment, so she pressed Eric back and stepped inside the shower, closing the curtain behind her.

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They were contained now. The bathroom light was muted by the dark shower curtain, and its play on the clean white tiles gave the space added ambiance. Warm water struck Savannah‟s back, and Eric got none. He looked at her with a combination of jealousy and lust before picking up the bar of white soap. “Look how dirty you are, child!” Wetting the soap underneath the running water, he skimmed the bar down her back and her butt. “We‟d better clean you up, huh?” “Well you‟re never going to get me clean like that,” she shot back. “If you want to have any effect at all, you better scrub hard.” He placed an arm around her middle, picked her right up off the tub floor, and swapped places with her. “Oh, you‟d like that wouldn‟t you?” And without waiting for a response, he set her down out of the falling water‟s range and spread a slick layer of white soap all over his body. “So you‟re going to get clean all on your own?” She reached out to grab his arm, but the soap made it too slippery. Savannah started to tumble, but Eric was quick to react, thank god! He swung an arm around her torso and held her in place. Her heart was beating fast, but his was too. His chest heaved against hers as they both breathed hard. “Are you okay?” Savannah asked. “Fine. You?” She rolled her eyes. “Feeling like a big-ass loser. Can we forget that just happened?”

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Placing the soap in her hand, Eric said, “Only if you wash me.” His smile was both giving and lecherous in the best of all possible ways. “And, uh, be thorough about it, will you? I‟m a very dirty man, remember.” Savannah traced one hand and one bar of white soap down Eric‟s front as slowly as she could stand to move. Sure, she wanted to go straight for his cock—and his cock seemed to want that too—but Eric needed to be teased a little more. “I‟ve never been with a dirty old man before.” She tried to sound innocent. “Hey, I never said old!” Eric grabbed her tits as she hopped on one foot. She was laughing when he asked, “Your ankle‟s still hurting?” “Yeah, yeah. No big deal.” “Well, it could be a big deal. If it‟s broken or sprained…” “It isn‟t broken or sprained. I just twisted it. It‟s a little tender. No big deal!” He looked like he was going to keep arguing, so Savannah skipped the teasing phase of his seduction and went straight for his dick. He gasped as she urged its supple skin toward her body. When he leaned against the tiles, she lifted her leg so he could hold her just under the knee. That was her compromise: if he was so worried about her tender little ankle, he could keep her leg elevated. Of course, this action seemed to give Eric other ideas, and before she could rethink her last move, he‟d spun forty-five degrees and pinned her to the wall. Savannah‟s breath laboured as she looked up into Eric‟s steel blue eyes. His hair was soaked and slicked back. Droplets ran down his scruffy cheeks, and he blew water away from his soft pink lips. The shower flow washed the soap from his erection as Savannah rubbed it with rough affection.

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She pulled on his cock and his body came with it. Holding her left leg over his forearm, he brought her in close. The sensation of his nakedness against hers filled her heart with an unexpected sense of intimacy. Her nipples were already hard with anticipation, and her whole body squealed with delight he pressed his soapy chest to hers. She wasn‟t even sure whether he kissed her or she kissed him, but Savannah found herself wrapped in an inescapable embrace. She pushed back against the wall and planted her foot firmly on the tub floor. The last thing she wanted to do was slip again, and with all this water and soap, it would be only too easy. With one arm encircling Eric‟s neck, she held tight to his surprisingly strong shoulder. He stood up straight and erect as she set his cockhead at against her pussy. There was more wetness built up between her two legs than there was water tumbling from the showerhead—at least that‟s how it seemed when she eased her hips forward to invite Eric inside. The big plastic toy in Savannah‟s sock drawer could fill her up, sure, but it never made her feel like this! Eric‟s cock was hot, firm, and moving like an ambitious demon inside of her. A feeling of intense sexual connection soared through her body. It made her feel even warmer than the shower water, or the steam filling the bathroom. The sensation was centralized in her pussy, but she could feel him everywhere. As Eric held her leg up and thrust into her, Savannah gazed down past her wet tits and hard nipples. She was instantly transfixed by the vision of his hard cock surging toward her and disappearing into her body. It was like she swallowed him up, and then he emerged again. She‟d devour him, but he‟d come back. God, she wanted to thrust her hips forward at him every time he plunged inside her pussy, but with one leg held

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aloft and the other doing its damnedest to keep her upright, she didn‟t have much range of motion. Eric was full of surprises. He said, “Hold on tight.” When she‟d grabbed hold of his neck, he lunged down and wrapped his arm around her right thigh. Savannah gasped as he swept her off her feet. “How are you doing this?” A giggle rose in her throat. “Oh my god, Eric, I thought your back was hurting you. Put me down before you kill yourself!” He pinned her to the wall. “You know how they say a mother can accomplish any feat of strength of protect her child?” Savannah watched his gaze turn to steel. “Uh-huh.” He squeezed Savannah‟s ass cheeks with both hands as he moved his fat dick in slow circles, stirring her pussy juice like a witch‟s brew. “Well, a man can accomplish any feat of strength if it means getting laid.” Savannah laughed, but not for long. Pressing her back against the tile as she clung to him, Eric thrust his hips and his whole body came along for the ride. His cock rode up so far inside Savannah‟s pussy she felt an explosive pang in her core even before Eric‟s chest met her tits. A shriek shot past her lips before she could conceal it. When she cried out in combined agony and ecstasy, Eric growled and thrust again. Maybe he liked that kind of reaction. Maybe it reinforced in his mind how big his cock was, and how much it could hurt a girl if he wasn‟t careful. All Savannah could do to fend off the twinge of his rebellious propulsions was clamp her pussy muscles down against his firm cock. That made him growl too. Now he had to thrust harder to get deep

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inside, because her pussy muscles were clinging to his dick the way adoring fans clung to rock stars. She presented him with a challenge, and he rose to the occasion. Water splashed between them as their bodies slapped together. Savannah‟s pussy must have expanded to let him in, because now when he drove his cock up deep inside her pussy, it didn‟t hurt at all. Her toes met the shower curtain as he impelled her with his dick again and again. The tighter she clung to him with her pussy, the harder he pummeled her with that monster. Sheepishly letting go of his neck with one hand, she brought her big breast to his mouth and teased his lips with her nipple. At first, he would let it inside his mouth. He was a damn tease. The man wouldn‟t even lick it until she told him to. “Suck my tit,” she demanded in a tone even more harsh than she‟d intended. “Suck it, bitch.” She felt his cock surge inside her body as she degraded him, and when he took her nipple in his mouth a bolt of lightning struck down straight through her core and electrified her clit. Now they seemed unsteady, and Savannah wrapped her arm around Eric‟s shoulder to keep from tumbling down under the shower‟s cascade. “God, I want you to come!” she cried as he trapped her nipple between his teeth and flicked it with his tongue. She wanted him to come because she wanted to come, and that moment of masculine bliss coupled with the mental picture of white-hot jizz shooting from his cockhead, always sent her hurdling into orgasm. “Come,” she chanted in his ear. “Come, Eric, come!” He grunted, wrapped his arms more firmly around her ass, and ploughed her with his dick. Either his erection was getting bigger by the second, or Savannah‟s pussy was getting tighter, because he felt huge when he fucked her. And she told him so! “Fuck,

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Eric, your cock feels like a monster inside my little snatch.” Her words turned her on. Saying them turned her on. In fact, right now everything turned her on! “Fuck me, Eric. Fuck me hard until you come. I want your big prick to explode with jizz. Fill me up so full it drips from my snatch all night.” Letting her breast fall from his mouth, Eric lunged at Savannah‟s neck and sucked as he pummeled her pussy. The sensation almost tickled her enough to squirm out of his arms, but she kept herself from laughing by picking up the chant. “Come, Eric, come!” His groans grew higher in pitch the more she chided him. “Come on, you little bitch. I want to feel my pussy full of jizz. You‟ve gotta do it for me, Eric. You‟ve gotta come!” Ramming her body against the tile, Eric impelled her with his cock. He released one Chihuahua-like yelp and then held his body, and hers, absolutely still beneath the shimmering cascade. Closing her eyes, she visualized cum surging from the gleaming pink tip of his dick and filling her pussy with hot cream. It made her feel warm inside, from her pelvis all the way up to her chest. She kissed his wet hair again and again, until he lifted his lips to hers. They‟d started off by kissing, and now they were finishing off the same way. As he set her down, he said, “That was incredible,” and what could she do but agree? Savannah would never take another shower without feeling dirty.

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Chapter Twelve

“Are you sleepy?” Eric asked as he pulled on his pajama bottoms. Savannah sat on the couch and watched with a certain amount of relief as Eric‟s shrinking dick disappeared beneath a layer of flannel. Penises were eminently more attractive before sex than after. She had to laugh at his use of the word “sleepy.” If she‟d answered yes, indeed, she was “sleepy,” what would he have done? Put her in a bonnet and a baby onesie and tucked her into her crib? “Sleepy” was the kind of word you used with children, not with adults…and certainly not with adults you‟d just fucked in the shower! “I‟m exhausted,” she chuckled as he pulled on his white cotton T-shirt. His nipples were hard underneath it, and even their faint pink hue showed through the lightweight fabric. “How could I not be tired after all that physical exertion? You really wore me out.” “Do you want to go to bed, then?” “Not yet,” she said, trampling his words. He trampled back, “I was just thinking, if Stacy‟s going to be out all night, we could just as easily sleep together.” Shifting in beside her on the couch, Eric launched an arm around her shoulder. He kissed that unequalled spot just below her ear as he traced a single finger down the inside of her terrycloth robe. If her nipples hadn‟t already been erect in anticipation, they certainly would be now! His hand entered her robe through the slit in the front and cupped her naked breast unseen. “Is your bed big enough for two?” he asked.

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“You know it is,” she cooed, breathtaken by his lips on her neck and his fingers pinching her tits. “And you know you‟re welcome to share it,” she went on, “but I get the feeling you‟ll be leaving sooner rather than later, and I want to maximize our time. Fuck now, sleep after.” Eric growled as he pulled one eager breast out in the open. Savannah sighed as he kissed his way down her neck. She closed her eyes, shaking the towel from her wet hair, and only opened them again when she realized Eric‟s lips were no longer touching her flesh. “What‟s wrong?” she asked. Looking down over the back of the couch, he said, “You‟re not going to leave your wet towel on the floor, are you? That moisture will get into the carpet and you‟ll end up with mold, spores, respiratory disease…well, you‟re the biologist. You know what I‟m talking about.” Savannah stared into Eric‟s eyes with a big smile on her lips, until she realized he was serious. “Okay, grandpa, I‟ll pick it up.” The second her left foot met the floor, a searing pain shot through her leg. “God damn it!” she cried, grasping the couch and hopping on her right foot. “Oh, I forgot about that.” “You sit back down,” Eric said, rising to grab the towel himself. “I‟m so sorry, Savannah. To tell the truth, I‟d forgotten about your ankle. I guess the warmth from the shower didn‟t do its job, huh?” “Well, it did to start out with,” she replied as he hung the towel in the bathroom. “It worked well enough that I could forget about the pain for a couple minutes, but now I guess it‟s back.”

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He stood outside the bathroom with his arms crossed in front of his chest. “I can take you to the hospital if you want me to.” Savannah moaned internally. “No, Eric.” She just wanted to say his name. “No, I‟m fine. Seriously. Just…” Though it rested in the periphery, the bag on the coffee table caught her eye. “Hey, I totally forgot about those Lucy DVDs you picked up. Why don‟t we watch a few episodes, huh?” A smile grew across Eric‟s lips, and he raced back to her side. “I bought candy too!” he cried, tearing into the bag and pulling out chocolates and gummies and microwave popcorn. “Looks like you‟ve covered all the bases,” Savannah chuckled. “Sweet, salty, and chocolate. These would be my three main food groups, if I let myself be bad.” Eric raised an eyebrow as he opened up the box of popcorn. “You mean you‟ve yet to let yourself be bad tonight?” With a sneaky nod, Savannah picked up the veritable bucket of gummy worms. “Give me some warning when you do decide to be bad,” Eric went on. “I might need artificial resuscitation.” She tore the plastic lid off the container of gummies, lifted one to her mouth, and summoned it inside with her tongue. When Eric looked sufficiently aroused, she bit the worm and smiled. “Don‟t worry, sugar. I think I know how to bring you back to life.” Had Savannah ever in her life called somebody “sugar?” It sounded so Blanche Dubois. So not biology-geek Savannah. But what difference did it make, really? If she could turn Eric on just by sucking on a piece of candy, why not do it? He‟d be gone soon anyway. It‟s not like she‟d have to keep up the sex-goddess show forever. Besides, it

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was refreshing to be around someone who looked at her in awe, even if she was just wearing her ankle-length terry cloth robe. She was glad to give Eric some relief after his wife had cheated on him and made him feel so rotten about himself. And a couple good fucks would go easier on Eric‟s liver than all the drinking he‟d probably do if she wasn‟t around to entertain him. She could tell he felt good about himself with her, and that made her feel good about herself in turn. So what if he was married? This little encounter was good for everyone. That‟s what Savannah would keep telling herself every time that stupid little guilt voice spoke up at the back of her head. “Savannah, what are you doing? This isn‟t right. Eric is married! He‟s Stacy‟s dad. What would she say if she knew? This is all wrong, wrong, wrong…” Eric put a bag of popcorn in the microwave before setting a DVD in the player. “I like the early episodes best—the ones before little Ricky comes along.” “Yeah, kids spoil TV shows,” she said. Pushing Mr. Guilt-Voice out of her mind, she tried to think up other examples, but her brain seemed to be offline. “Hey, did you know when this show was first made they couldn‟t say the word „pregnant‟ on television?” “Did I know that?” Eric laughed as the menu came up on the screen. “I‟m surprised you knew that. This is my generation‟s TV programming, after all, not yours.” Savannah didn‟t like that Eric would make a statement like that, explicitly attempting to make her feel young and foolish. Or maybe he didn‟t intend it that way. Maybe she was reading too much into things. “Well, I watched it when I was little,” she replied, “so I feel like it belongs to me too. Anyway, doesn‟t any classic TV show or

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movie or song or whatever belong to „the generations,‟ and not just „a generation?‟ I mean, some things are timeless.” “I suppose you‟re right about that.” Eric gazed at the DVD remote for a moment, but he had to bring it in close to his face before he could find the button he was looking for. As he squinted at the controller, the wrinkles around his eyes became apparent to Savannah for the first time. Suddenly she felt weird about all this. He hadn‟t looked it from the outset, but Eric really was old, wasn‟t he? Lucy‟s familiar theme music chimed through the speaker system, but Savannah was still calculating. How old was Eric, exactly? If he and whatever his wife was called had Stacy at twenty, they might only be in their early forties now. A consoling thought. But that was unlikely, wasn‟t it? Eric and Stacy‟s mom were both educated with good jobs, which meant they probably didn‟t settle down until they were a little older. But even if Eric was fifty, did that really matter? Stacy said other college girls at the bar were flirting with him that first night they went out. Obviously Savannah wasn‟t the only woman in the world attracted to him. Another consoling thought. Just as Savannah settled back and put her foot up, the microwave dinged to tell them popcorn was ready. “You stay put,” Eric said. His back cracked as he rose from the couch and he groaned faintly. “Do you want something to drink? Well, not alcohol, obviously. I remember you don‟t drink that.” “Pop would be good. I‟ll just keep going with the sugar food group until I fall into a diabetic coma.” For a moment, she watched him open and close cupboards, obviously looking for something—probably a bowl to dump the popcorn into—but for some reason she didn‟t

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feel inclined to help him find it. As she watched him roaring through her kitchen in his pajamas, she felt perplexed about something, but she wasn‟t sure what or why. When he returned with her soda glass and a big bowl of popcorn, Eric looked inexplicably young again. A sense of embarrassed relief came over Savannah, and she smiled in spite of herself. “Did you also know,” she asked, “that up until Lucy and Ricky, no other married couple had slept in the same bed on a TV show? All those other blackand-white TV couples slept in twins like Bert and Ernie.” Eric laughed and sat down beside her on the couch. “Oh, Savannah, sweetheart, did you bump your head when you fell?” There was deep concern seated in his gaze, and it puzzled Savannah. “What do you mean?” Kissing her forehead, he said, “We had this very same conversation the first night I was here.” That was true, wasn‟t it? Her forgetfulness made her cringe. Maybe he was wondering if she was losing it, or plotting to take her to the hospital to have her head examined. “Anyway,” he chuckled, “you‟d better stop asking these questions or I‟m liable to tell you about a time before there were TVs in every household.” “Oh, come on,” she said as he wrapped a deliciously warm arm around her shoulder. With a mouthful of fake-buttery popcorn, she went on, “You aren‟t really that old.” He wriggled his eyebrows. “Aren‟t I?” Her stomach sunk a little as she snapped off a piece of the chocolate bar Eric passed to her. Had she told him she loved the kind with almonds and toffee? She

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couldn‟t recall. Maybe they just happened to like the same kind of chocolate. That was a pleasant thought. And, hey, what difference did age make? It wasn‟t like they were getting married or anything. Cuddling in against Eric‟s shoulder, she smiled and snacked and watched Lucy on TV. It‟d been so long since she‟d spent this kind of time with a guy. Her most recent boyfriend had been such a go-getter with no time to sit down and veg. He was always up and doing things: socializing, running, working, networking, For him, sitting on the couch in front of the boob tube was a waste of time, even if it was time spent with Savannah. Eric‟s obvious desire to be around her doing nothing in particular made her feel special. “Stacy‟s mom always thought my TV shows were stupid.” Savannah‟s stomach plunged and she felt her arms go stiff. She knew exactly which road they were headed down. Of course, listening to Eric talk about all his relationship stuff was the sensitive thing to do, but she really didn‟t know how to respond. She pushed an “Oh” out of her mouth, but even that was a challenge. “Yeah,” he went on. “Hilary and I never had the same taste in anything. She didn‟t even like my spaghetti…and I make good spaghetti!” “Had?” she choked. Maybe he wasn‟t going back to this woman after all. Savannah wasn‟t sure how she felt about that. Eric laughed at whatever had just happened on screen—Savannah was too busy watching the stress on his face to pay attention to Lucy‟s antics. “Do you like the Three Stooges?” he asked without taking his eyes off the TV.

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Thank god! The impending conversation of doom seemed to have passed. “Yeah, I do. I know girls aren‟t „supposed‟ to, but I do.” Shaking his head, Eric chewed his popcorn. “Hilary doesn‟t like them. You know, she and I have next to nothing in common. Never really did. It‟s strange how couples end up together, isn‟t it? You fall in love with someone, you get married, and ten years later you have absolutely no idea what you saw in her.” Savannah bit her lip. “Yeah.” What the hell else was she supposed to say? Realistically, she‟d never been in a relationship long enough to have any clue what he meant. “And now this whole thing with the young guy—and I know what you must be thinking: I only made love with you to get back at Hilary. And maybe you‟re right at a certain level, but I want to assure you that was not my overriding concern.” “I know,” she said quickly, hoping to interrupt his train of thought. Eric wasn‟t making all that much sense. And, seriously, made love? Is that what they‟d done? As far as she was concerned, they‟d fucked in the shower, plain and simple. Making love was a little extravagant for her blood. “But, you know, the first thought that jumped into my mind when I walked in on them together was, „I deserve this.‟” He spoke without taking his eyes off the TV, and laughed when Lucy got herself into a sticky situation. “That‟s really what I thought.” “Why?” Savannah asked before she could stop herself. “Did you cheat on her?” And then, of course, it occurred to her that‟s precisely what they‟d done in the shower. “I mean before…”

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“No,” Eric said without wavering. “No, and you already asked me that question, too.” Had she really? Oh, that‟s right, she did—and it was only a few hours ago that she‟d asked it. How embarrassing that she should repeat herself. Eric didn‟t say anything more and she didn‟t push the issue. Anyway, she had no desire to comfort him if he broke down. He seemed in a happy enough mood at the moment, but why wouldn‟t he be? Post-coital Lucy and a variety of snack foods: what more could any man ask?

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Chapter Thirteen

Had she nodded off for a minute or two? Stupid VCR clock still wasn‟t set. Her head rested on Eric‟s warm chest as it rose and fell like clockwork. God, she was sweating in her terrycloth robe. Why was she so hot? The TV blasted yet another Lucy episode, and when she reached for the remote, her ankle screamed. Jumping out of sleep, Eric muttered, “What? What‟s…what?” “Ah, my fucking ankle!” she cried. She didn‟t like to swear, but it hurt like hell. Eric rubbed his face and mumbled, “Stop being so difficult. Just let me take you to the hospital already.” “No,” she whined. His head fell back against the sofa and he let out a sleepy moan. “What are you so afraid of?” “Nothing. I just know there‟s nothing wrong with me!” “Except that you scream when you move.” “I was asleep,” she tried to explain. “I forgot it was going to hurt.” Eric rolled off the couch with a look of confusion settling on his face. He scratched his belly as he looked around. After a moment or two, his eyes lit up—as much as a half-asleep person‟s could—and he grabbed a pair of pants. “What are you doing?” Savannah asked, perhaps a little too firmly. She wasn‟t awake enough to control her emotions. “I‟m not going to the hospital.”

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“Yes you are,” Eric replied simply. But instead of pulling off his pajama pants and pulling on his jeans, he collapsed beside her on the couch. “Just give me five more minutes.” She sighed and reached again for the remote, this time with more care. “See?” she said, turning down the volume. “As long as I don‟t move too quickly, I‟m fine. I‟ll just put another round of ice on my ankle and in the morning I‟ll be healed.” Eric‟s eyes popped wide open at the mention of ice. “You know, that‟s not a bad idea.” Pressing both hands down on the couch, he pushed himself up and hobbled like a drunken uncle over to the kitchen. He sighed as he opened the freezer. The cold seemed to revive him. He brought the tray out and snapped it back and forth before dumping the ice into a metal mixing bowl. Even before leaving the kitchen, he picked up one piece and traced it along the base of his jaw and down his neck. “That‟s better,” he said. “Nothing like ice dripping down your neck to wake a guy up.” “If you say so.” Savannah chuckled. “That‟s never been my game.” He brought the ice to the TV room and sat on the coffee table before placing the ice-cold metal bowl on her ankle. She flinched, but she didn‟t move her foot away. Anything so unnerving must be a help. “How does that feel?” Eric teased. “Like hell.” He moved the bowl from her ankle and set it on top of a magazine. From it, he swiped a single cube. Savannah cringed as she watched it coming for her, but when the ice made contact with her skin, she was surprised to find it wasn‟t painfully cold. If anything, it tickled.

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“How about this?” Eric asked, tracing the cube around her slightly-swollen ankle. “How does this feel?” The ice melted quickly between his fingers and her flesh. Droplets of water trickled down her foot and dripped from her heel onto the throw pillow it was set upon. “Good,” she said. To her surprise, it was true. “It feels really good, actually.” “What if I do this?” Eric asked, picking up a fresh cube and tracing it up the inside of her calf. Shifting her robe aside, he circled it around her knee before drawing it slowing up her thigh. The cold made her tremble now. She felt its effects more between her legs than she had against her ankle. A whole line of water droplets tumbled down her inner thigh, soaking the terrycloth beneath her. She knew where he was going with this, and she wanted to show him she was on board. Savannah untied her belt and let her robe fall open at the front. Her breasts were warm and soft with sleep. “Do my tits,” she bid. “With the ice. Make them hard.” A churlish grin bled upon Eric‟s pink lips. “You want me to?” “Yeah.” She even cupped her breasts and held them for him. Couldn‟t he see they wanted him too? Her whole body wanted him over again, but her breasts wanted him first. He lifted his ice cube slowly, overshooting her tits. For a moment, she was sure he was heading for her neck, but then he brought the ice toward himself like a child jealously guarding a favourite toy. With a fiendish smile, he took the cube between his lips and held it there with his teeth. It must have been damn cold, because he closed his eyes and hissed, but he didn‟t remove the cube. Droplets fell against Savannah‟s chest as Eric came in close and traced the ice slowly around her lips. She could feel it melting before it even came in contact with her

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flesh. When the ice did touch down on her mouth, it knocked the sleep right out of her system. She was wide awake now, and she wanted everything Eric had to give. Pulling his head in close, she kissed him hard. The ice cube floated in their mouths, jumping from tongue to tongue. The passion between Savannah‟s mouth and Eric‟s was far too hot for any little ice cube to survive. It was gone in what seemed like mere moments, and Eric leaned back to grab another. “I believe your beautiful breasts were next on the list,” he said. But Eric had proven his ability to sexually ad lib. She trusted him to use his own mind. “Surprise me.” In seconds, the new cube met the hot spot behind Savannah‟s ear. She jerked her head away, but Eric caught it and held it steady. The cold pervaded her senses as water dripped down her neck. He traced the ice down fast, like a little skier zooming down the side of a mountain. When he arrived between her breasts, the ice cube bled out. By the time its steady stream had drizzled down her belly and into her pubic hair, the water was warm. Savannah‟s skin was so damn hot it could turn ice into warm water. The very thought made her feel attractive. The look of lust in Eric‟s eyes made her feel all the more so. “Do my tits,” she said once again. It wasn‟t that she thought he‟d never get there, only she knew how sexy her voice sounded when she said it. A voice raspy with sleep saying naughty words like “tits”? What man could resist? “Are you sure you can handle it?” Eric asked, tracing the underside of one breast and then the other. She wiggled her eyebrows and smiled. “Try me.”

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That little devil Eric slid the melting ice cube up and around her left breast while he took her right nipple in his mouth. It was hot where he sucked. It was cold where he glided the ice in small circles. The contrast of hot and cold took her breath away, and she threw her head back against the couch. “Oh my god,” she hissed, running her hand through his fine blond hair. “Oh god, Eric.” “I‟m sorry,” he mocked, kissing between her tits. “Do you not like that? I could stop.” Grasping hold of his hair, she said, “You‟d better not, or I‟ll come after you with that ice and I guarantee you won‟t like where I put it.” “Good luck catching me with that bum leg,” he teased. All this time she‟d forgotten to be in pain, but as soon as he mentioned her ankle, it ached again. “Just do my tits,” she said, pressing his face against her breast. Savannah could take charge if she had to. In fact, she enjoyed putting a man in his place, even if that man was as sweet and kind as Eric. He sucked her right nipple in his mouth until the ice against her left nipple had melted clean away. The cold felt sharp and good, and it made her nipple stand erect like a good little soldier. Eric stared at it, and his gaze of approval made her feel like she was exuding feminine power. Then, he put his lips together and he blew. He forced cool air at her hard nipple, and its tight flesh tingled and firmed. Her nipple stuck out straight like a pencil eraser, and the more he blew on it, the longer it grew. “My god,” Savannah said as she stared down at it. “You could put your eye out with that thing.”

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Eric knew exactly what he was doing. Holding her breast with one hand, he licked that firm nipple before enclosing it between his two lips. Savannah clawed his hair as a wicked sensation shot through her core. The heat of his mouth sizzled against her cold flesh. It felt like coming in out of the winter‟s snow and plunging her hands into warm water. Her skin was burning. The pleasure-pain made her want to kick her feet against the coffee table, but she resisted. No sense in causing herself more injuries. As Eric moved his head back and forth, sucking all the while, he looked like he was giving her nipple a blow job. “Do the other tit,” Savannah begged. The ice cube had melted in Eric‟s palm, but he quickly grabbed another and repeated the sequence. “God, that feels incredible,” Savannah sighed as he circled the new ice around her virgin nipple. The cold was strangely tolerable. Savannah knew there was something frozen dancing against her warm flesh, but it just didn‟t feel as painful as it could. In fact, until Eric lifted the ice away from her tit and blew cold air against it, she didn‟t feel cold at all. Eric snatched her erect nipple between his teeth and sucked. The heat of his mouth sent a surge of electricity coursing through her body. Her pelvis tingled. It welcomed a tender caress or a brutal invasion—whatever Eric was willing to give. A rush of juice soaked her pussy lips. She was so ready for him. Backing off Savannah‟s nipple, Eric held his ice against her belly. It melted fast, and when she looked down past her tits, she got to watch as a stream of water spilled down her front. Running through her pubic hair, those pure, clean droplets landed one after the next against her engorged clit. When she gasped at the sensation of cool-onhot, Eric chuckled and kissed the curve of her breast. He slipped the ice down her belly

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and over her pubic hair before lightly, lightly, lightly pressing the melting cube to Savannah‟s clit. She bucked her hips forward at the coldest feeling of cold she‟d ever experienced. It was centralized in her pussy lips as he slid the ice down one side and back up the other. The freezing sensation along the outside of her pussy didn‟t make her particularly cold anywhere else—if anything, she felt hot with her terrycloth robe still hanging over her shoulders. Her cheeks felt flushed. Her neck was hot. Her pussy lips felt freezing cold, but inside she was smoking. If only Eric reached in there with his firm fingers, he‟d find out just how sizzling she really was. Eric circled a sliver of ice around and around her lips. Just when she thought it would melt between his thumb and his index finger, he surprised her by pressing that thin piece of ice right up inside her pussy. “Oh!” Savannah cried. “Oh…” Holding her thighs in one warm hand and one cold hand, Eric stepped between her legs and sunk to his knees on the carpet. He looked up at her and winked. “How does that feel, huh?” She had to think about the question before answering. Did it feel cold? A little, maybe. Wet? Well, sure. But she didn‟t feel like she‟d experienced the full effect yet. “Put another one inside me,” she pleaded. Eric‟s lips pursed like he was suppressing a cunning smile. He started to turn around, but before reaching for another piece of ice, he seemed to change his mind. He dove at her thighs, planting his head in between them. When his hot tongue met her cold pussy lips, she squealed and writhed, but he held her thighs down flat against the

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couch. She was utterly at his mercy, and she loved it. When he sucked her chilled clit into his steamy mouth, she totally lost it. Even with his hands pushing her down, she bucked up at his face. When she felt his nose brush her bush, she tossed her head back and screamed. “Oh my god, Eric!” She couldn‟t keep quiet. “Oh god!” She ran her fingers through his hair and pushed his face against her clit. Everything felt so damn good. Releasing her thigh, Eric reached backwards, clumsily feeling across the coffee table while Savannah held his head between her legs. She didn‟t help him out, though she hoped to hell he‟d get a hold of that metal bowl. Struggle, struggle, and success! Eric grabbed a fresh piece of ice and, without any hesitation, pressed it between Savannah‟s thighs. Her pussy didn‟t offer up any resistance. No, no, no, it welcomed that frosty little intruder like she‟d welcome Eric‟s big cock. She didn‟t even feel that cold yet. “Give me another one!” When Eric pressed a fresh ice cube into Savannah‟s pussy, she felt warm water gushing out from her slit. Was it dripping on Eric‟s pajama pants or on her carpet? She wasn‟t terribly concerned. After all, it was only water. Eric reached for her breast. The second his mouth met her pussy lips, those cold fingers pinched her nipple, and she hissed with delight. The combination of cold fingers on warm nipple and warm tongue on cold clit sent electricity zipping through her veins. This was unlike anything she‟d ever experienced. She‟d never been with a guy who had such a sexually creative bent to his character. She‟d never been with someone who would take chances. Hell, she and Eric barely knew each other and already he was

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cramming ice cubes up her snatch! His command impressed her beyond words, and when he reached for another piece of ice, she held her breath. The ice chilled the gate to her packed pussy as it went in. When Eric poked up another, Savannah closed her eyes and asked herself if she could feel the cubes floating around inside of her. She knew they were in there, of course, but did it feel anything like getting packed with a penis? Not really. But, then, she‟d never taken a big dick inside her pussy and stopped to ask herself if she could feel anything. There was pressure—she could feel pressure. The ice must have been numbing her inside just like it had done to her outsides. As she sat with her eyes closed, pondering her state of fullness, warm lips met hers and a hot tongue infiltrated her mouth. Without opening her eyes, Savannah returned Eric‟s kiss tenfold. She sent her naughty hands on a mission to find the hem of his T-shirt and pull it up across his abs, up his chest, up to those delicious shoulders. White cotton passed between them, pausing their kiss until the T-shirt was over Eric‟s head and tossed on the floor. Eric tore out of his flannel pajama pants and set one knee on the couch beside her. Without jostling her leg at all, he held his erection by its base and ploughed Savannah‟s ice-cold pussy. They moaned in sequence, him first and then her. She could hardly imagine how his cockhead must feel, coursing inside a hot pussy only to find it full of ice. Cold, for starters, but would it feel as though it had been tricked? No, of course it wouldn‟t. Cockheads couldn‟t think for themselves. Eric‟s hot prick took up more space than she had to offer, and its glistening head drove what was left of the ice cubes straight back to her upper limits. Warm water

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splashed from her slit, soaking her robe and her thighs, and probably Eric‟s big balls too. God, Savannah loved balls. She wasn‟t even sure what it was about them: the hair, the squishy texture, or was it the fact that they just hung there without much purpose during sex? She had to touch them, and when she did, Eric arched his back and let out a huge groan. He obviously liked that, so she held his balls tight as he thrust in her pussy. He squealed and kissed her hard. With every movement inside her body, hot combined with cold against her tender flesh. Water spurted from her slit, but she could care less about the mess. Though the walls of her pussy still felt somewhat frozen from the ice, the pressure of his cock‟s heaving motion through her body made her weak with arousal. Aside from the one hand clinging to his balls, she went limp underneath him. As he pounded her, she whimpered. She squeezed his balls and he yelped, but she didn‟t let go. Maybe her pussy was warming up now, because she seemed to experience more sensation. It built within her bones. She clamped down on him and he reacted by drawing his mouth away from hers and gnawing on her neck. His mouth tickled her, but she translated the desire to laugh into sexual energy. Her soul sat in her core, kissing Eric‟s cock as the monster screamed in and out of it. This was it! She couldn‟t keep her body in check any longer. Wrapping her legs around Eric‟s, she bucked up against his hips, meeting each of his thrusts with one of her own. It occurred to Savannah that her ankle ought to be screaming with pain right now, but maybe the sheer joy of reaching an orgasmic high with a very sensual man kept it at bay. She felt as though she‟d reached the peak of her sexual prowess at the tender age of twenty-two, and she couldn‟t keep herself from growling words of

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encouragement at Eric: “Yeah, that‟s it. I want your cum to melt that ice you put in there! Cover it with jizz.” She wasn‟t sure where the words came from, or even whether she liked hearing them tumbling from her mouth, but Eric seemed to find her naughtiness thrilling. He panted and moaned. He pumped so hard in her she bounced on the couch. And then, with only the warning of one uninhibited shriek, he stopped moving. He rested on top of her, though without setting all his weight on her naked front. His breath was hot in her ear, which she loved, but her ankle was beginning to throb, which she didn‟t. The entire time they‟d been going at it, Savannah hadn‟t realized their Lucy reruns were still reeling away on the TV. There was popcorn on the coffee table, sweating glasses of pop, chocolate and candies. What a mess. And now, as Eric pulled out, her pussy ejected water and other assorted liquids. Yeah, it was gross, but it was gross in the sexiest way possible. It felt kind of like he‟d ejaculated in her and she was paying him back by coming all over him. She was sweaty and wet and her robe was soaked with bodily fluids, but she felt like a million bucks. This had been one of those evenings she‟d be able to rehash the next time some competitive group of girls in one of her classes made her feel like a total virgin just because she didn‟t drink. She had her share of vices, she‟d be able to say. She‟d slept with a man who was married—with her roommate‟s dad, no less—and he‟d filled her snatch with ice.

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Chapter Fourteen

There were dogs in her dream. Strange—Savannah had never owned a dog, but she felt a familiar sense of affection for the animals as she watched them running around a field of wildflowers and tall grasses. She wasn‟t any kind of an expert when it came to species, but she recognized the golden retriever for sure. His shimmering coat stuck in her mind as she shook off the thick layer of sleep. It was a long swim back to consciousness, and when she got within reach of that world of too much reality, a feeling of hazy apprehension gripped her heart. Something had happened. But what? There was something she was supposed to remember about this morning. And then she heard the sound of Stacy‟s voice in the kitchen, and her eyes burst wide open. The evil face of her alarm clock read 11:36. How could they have slept so late? Eric had to get up! He had to get out of her room, somehow, before Stacy burst in and found them together. God, how could she have let this happen? They must have slept right through her alarm. Savannah flipped in bed and reached for Eric‟s shoulder, set to shake him into wakefulness, but his shoulder wasn‟t there. None of him was there. Her bed was empty but for her naked body. At once, she felt relieved but also deprived of that beautiful moment of waking up and finding her lover‟s face either soft with sleep or gazing adoringly at her. She‟d have liked to wake up that way. Oh well. Throwing off the covers, Savannah slid from the bed. Her robe was in the laundry hamper for obvious reasons, so she dressed in pajama pants and a frilly little tank top before slipping into the bathroom. As she peed and washed and brushed her teeth, she

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listened in on Stacy‟s conversation with her dad. If there was even the slightest chance Stacy realized what they‟d done last night, Savannah wanted to know about it before walking into the lion‟s den. But the talk outside was inane. They seemed to be planning a day together. Savannah wondered if she‟d be invited. She wondered if she wanted to be. “Good morning, sleepy head,” Stacy sang as Savannah stumbled toward the coffee pot. “Get home late last night?” Savannah‟s lungs went icy cold. She needed an answer in line with whatever Eric had already told Stacy, but she had no idea what he‟d already told her, so how could she know how to answer? Eep! Eric diffused her panic, thank god! “How could she have a late night when she had to get your elderly father home by ten?” He put on an old man‟s voice to say, “I had to take my pills, dontcha know!” “Oh, how‟s your ankle?” Stacy asked. Her face was plastered with genuine concern, and that made Savannah feel all the more guilty about sleeping with her dad. “Did you load up on painkillers before going to bed?” “Yeah…” Savannah said slowly. In fact, she‟d forgotten all about injuring herself. A grin broke across her lips. She‟d told Eric she‟d be all right from the start. See? She was right and he was wrong! “Maybe that‟s why you slept so late,” Stacy went on. “That happens to me sometimes, when I take a lot of ibuprofen. I don‟t know why, but I get super, super tired.”

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Savannah probably knew the physio-chemical reason behind such a reaction, but she was still too hazy to ponder academics. As she filled a cup with old coffee, she turned to Stacy and asked, “What‟s on the books for today? You guys planning some fun in the sun?” Stacy glanced out the window across the way. “Well, it‟s raining out, so not exactly.” “We were thinking of taking in the new exhibit at the university art gallery,” Eric said. “Stacy was telling me there‟s a photo essay by one student who spent her summer doing aid work in India. Sounds like just my cup of tea.” “Yeah, for sure.” Savannah was desperate for an immediate dose of caffeine, so she put her cold coffee in the microwave and hoped for the best. “I would love to see what they‟ve got going on at the gallery. Would you believe I‟ve never been? Not once.” “Well, I‟m afraid you won‟t be seeing it today,” Eric replied, in an unnecessarily paternal tone of voice. “Unless you‟re willing to let us steer you around the place in a wheelchair. You took quite a tumble last night and today you need to rest.” Savannah couldn‟t think what to do except stare at Eric as the microwave dinged behind her. She gazed at him in disbelief for a few moments more before turning to retrieve her cup of coffee. Stacy snacked on grapes as she cut in, “I can‟t believe you slid down that hill by the river to rescue some guy‟s dog! I didn‟t think you even liked animals. You vetoed my idea of getting a ferret.” “Well, ferrets are creepy,” she said, racing to assemble in her mind the lie Eric had told: Savannah had rescued a dog. Okay, she could play along with that. “It was no

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big deal. I just slipped a bit and turned my ankle funny. It‟s fine now. I wish you would believe me.” “Feeling fine isn‟t the same as being fine,” Eric cut in. “You need to stay off your feet.” Savannah couldn‟t help rolling her eyes. If this is how Eric insisted on acting when Stacy was around—all paternal and father-knows-best—then maybe she‟d give the art gallery a pass. “Well, if you‟re driving to campus, would you at least drop me off at the library? I promise to find a nice comfy study carrel and stay seated.” “You can‟t just study here?” Eric asked. With a laugh, Stacy turned to her father and said, “Savannah‟s very ritual-driven when it comes to studying. It has to be at the library, and she has to have the textbook on the left side of her note paper and her pens and highlighters all lined up in order of size.” Eric joined his daughter in laughing, but that didn‟t bother Savannah. Her mind was too busy playing tricks on her. As she watched Stacy‟s father put his arm around his daughter, strange thoughts shifted through her mind. Who looked better as a couple? Eric and Savannah or Eric and Stacy? What a stupid question! Stacy was his daughter, she was no competition for Savannah. And then Savannah remembered Chris. How could last night at Kingsley‟s have slipped her mind so quickly? Stacy had obviously poached Chris, and that‟s what had given Savannah the go-ahead to pursue Eric. It started off as payback, in a sense, hadn‟t it? Now all she could think about was how Eric cared more about Stacy than he did about her. But of course he did, for goodness‟ sake! Of course he would care more

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about his own daughter and want to spend time with her, especially now when their little family was on such troubled footing. What kind of a ruthless bitch was she, trying to cut in on them now? “Well, if you insist on leaving the house, I guess the library is a quiet enough spot for a young woman in recovery,” Eric said from across the kitchen. “But if you‟re leaving with us, hop to it and get dressed.” In her state, she wouldn‟t be hopping for any reason. Maybe she was lying to herself a bit, and certainly lying to Stacy and Eric. Her ankle was still a little tender when she walked on it, and as she made her way down the hall with her coffee cup in hand, she held the wall for support. A Sunday at the library didn‟t demand much better an outfit than track pants and a hoodie, thank god, but when she put on her socks, she was surprised to find her ankle still swollen. Would her shoe fit? And if it didn‟t, would Eric ground her? She pulled an old pair of sneakers from the closet, loosened the laces, and slipped her foot inside. This would have to do for today. She hobbled out to the kitchen, weighed down by her backpack, and said, “I‟m ready.” Eric grabbed the bag from her shoulder and looked to Stacy. “Help her along, will you? What she really needs is a pair of crutches.” “No I don‟t.” Or maybe she did, but she wasn‟t going to admit it. When Stacy slipped her arm around Savannah‟s waist and guided her toward the door Eric held open for them, Savannah felt all kinds of weird. She was pissed at Stacy for stealing Chris, but she didn‟t want to bring it up or cause any controversy because

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Stacy could just as easily throw everything with Eric back in her face…if she knew about it…which she probably didn‟t. As Eric walked ahead down the staircase, Stacy let out a bit of a giggle and said, “Oh my god, I have so much to tell you!” “About last night?” Savannah whispered. “I don‟t want to know.” “You don‟t want to hear about me hooking up with Yu?” “With me?” Savannah said, furling her brow. “You‟re dreaming, girl.” Stacy chuckled. “Yeah right. I mean with Yu, Y-U…you know?” “No.” What the hell was this girl talking about? “The Asian guy in Circle Six,” Stacy explained. “The one who plays his laptop like an instrument. Him.” “Him?” Savannah would never have guessed. “How did you get so chummy with the band, anyway?” Stacy guided Savannah down onto the first landing and let her adjust her position. “Well, you‟re probably going to kill me for this, but I went down early because I wanted to put in a good word for you with Chris.” “What?” Savannah tried not to shout. She didn‟t want to attract Eric‟s attention, even if he was off in the distance. “Why the hell would you do that?” “Well, you know, sometimes you come off a bit….” “What, nerdy?” Savannah asked, trying to balance on her one good foot. “I was going to say intense, but yeah, like intensely into your homework, basically. I just thought I‟d go down to Kingsley‟s and let the guy know how cool you really are.”

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Savannah laughed. “Now that‟s a lie.” “Yeah, but I wanted him to go into it at least thinking you were this awesome chick. I‟m just digging myself in deeper, aren‟t I?” “Yes.” In truth, Savannah knew she was a total science nerd. Her idea of the perfect date with Chris involved quizzing each other for the mid-term. It was her smarts that made her feel sexy, because her knowledge helped her to feel confident. Although, with Eric, she‟d just had fun with no pressure to be super-intelligent. Maybe, with him, she‟d learned to relax just a little. “So, that‟s when you met this Yu guy? When you were talking me up with Chris?” Stacy giggled. “Oh my god, you would not believe the stuff we did together!” Just like you wouldn’t believe the stuff I did with your father. “How‟s it going up there, girls?” Eric called out from the bottom of the stairs. Rolling her eyes, Stacy said, “I‟ll tell you all about it later. Oh, and I‟m sorry for dumping my dad on you. You didn‟t have to babysit him, you know.” Savannah shrugged as she hobbled down the stairs. “It was fine. Really.” She held herself back from saying anything even as controversial as, “We had fun together.” That could be categorized as an understatement anyway.

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Chapter Fifteen

“How did I know I‟d see you here today?” Savannah looked up to find Chris hovering over her study carrel. “Maybe because you see me here pretty much every day.” Shhh! The assault of shushes came on from every direction, firing on them like machine guns. Shhh! Shhh! Shhh! Chris rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. His wide smile made her heart leap under her ratty old hoodie, but she was past the point of caring what Chris saw her in. She wasn‟t particularly mindful of fashion when she dressed for labs or tutorials or Sunday study sessions in the library. He‟d seen her in all states of dress, but the keen look in his eye suggested he wouldn‟t mind seeing her in a state of undress too. “Want to go to the atrium and grab a coffee?” Savannah whispered. “I don‟t drink coffee,” he whispered back. She felt like an idiot, because he‟d mentioned that before. “Herbal tea, then?” “Yeah, sounds good.” Shhh! Shhh! Shhh! Stifling a giggle, Savannah assembled her books and slid them neatly into her bag, and then picked up her writing instruments and slipped them into their assigned pouch. It wasn‟t that she was fussy—hell, her room at home was kind of a mess—but she liked to keep her school things in order. Organization helped her to feel smart when she came across a difficult question.

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She was so taken by Chris‟ shining smile, she forgot to be careful as she rose to her feet. The minute she put pressure on her left ankle, it gave out and she tumbled back down into her chair. “Oh my god, are you okay?” Chris cried. Shhh! Shhh! Shhh! “Yeah, we‟re leaving,” he hissed, picking up her backpack and weaving his arm underneath her shoulders. As they hobbled toward the exit, he asked, “What happened?” “My ankle,” Savannah said once they‟d gone out the library doors. “It‟s nothing. I just twisted it. Whatever.” Chris set her down on one of the atrium‟s circa 1970 comfy vinyl couches and placed both their bags and his own umbrella on the floor. The place was usually swarming with students, but on a Sunday it was brimming with peace. Would have been nice if the sun was out to shine through the skylights high overhead, but the rain tumbling down against the plexiglass had a charm all its own. “What do you mean your ankle, whatever? What happened?” “It was stupid,” she said. “I slid down the riverbank by Kingsley‟s and…whatever…it‟s not a big deal.” He looked at her through squinted eyes. When he laughed, she felt as though he could see every one of last night‟s misdemeanors. Chris had that quality about him: he looked at you, and you were sure he was seeing your many crimes. “You wanted a coffee,” he finally said. “Oh, yeah.” She reached for her bag.

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“No, it‟s okay. I‟ve got it.” But when she thought about coffee, her stomach shook its head. “Thanks…actually, what are you having?” He smiled as he picked change out of his pocket. “The Beanmeister over there makes a mean loose-leaf jasmine tea. Want me to get you one?” “Yeah, sure.” All those green teas reminded her of her mother. They tasted like boiled socks as far as Savannah was concerned, but if Chris liked it she‟d give it another chance. When he returned with two porcelain mugs, she was really impressed. “How did you get these? I thought they only stocked those paper take-away cups.” Chris shrugged. “You just have to know how to ask, I guess.” There was some indescribable quality about Chris that made him eminently likeable. With those dreadlocks and the ripped clothing, he looked like the kind of guy she should be wary of, but once she sat down and talked to him, she realized he was unlike anyone else she‟d ever met. He was an ultra-cool environmental neo-hippie musician guy. And he cared. About everything. About everybody he met or encountered or even tripped over on the street. He was so giving of his time and energy. That was such an attractive quality in a man. And he was right about the jasmine tea—it tasted pretty damn good! “So, I guess you must have been pretty drunk to fall down the riverside,” Chris said, sitting down beside her on the couch as he sipped his tea. Savannah laughed. “No, I don‟t drink. I was just being stupid.”

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A smile of affinity grew across Chris‟ lips. “Hey, no way! I don‟t drink either. There are so few of us on campus who don‟t. This place is full of tearaways asserting their independence from parents they perceive as overbearing.” “Yeah,” Savannah agreed. “That‟s what university is, for most of these kids: permission to party non-stop.” Chris tossed his dreadlocks back and laughed. “Did you just say, „these kids‟? Like you‟re not one of them?” Yes, okay, it sounded high-and-mighty of her, but she often felt like she didn‟t belong on campus, except to study. “I know I‟m still young, but to tell you the truth, I‟ve never really felt like a young person.” Chris nodded, but she wasn‟t sure if she wanted to follow the line of thought she‟d started on, or if it would be better to back up a touch. “It‟s always nice to meet another non-drinker,” she said. “People usually interrogate me over it.” “I know what you mean,” Chris said with a nod. “And, sure, I used to drink. When I was a teenager, I was terrible: drinking, drugs, at home, at school. Don‟t know how I survived those years, or how I got into university. All the way through, I did the bare minimum. But life is very different for me now. I‟m a lot happier without the substances to dull my experience of the world around me.” None of his confessions surprised Savannah—in fact, she was more surprised that he was now clean and sober. Surprised and relieved. There was no way she could date a guy who did drugs. She didn‟t like being around people who were in some sense gone from reality. Too many bad memories.

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Savannah took a sip of her hot jasmine tea. “For me, I think it‟s…okay, this isn‟t something I go around telling people, but for me a big part of it is…” She furled her brow. The things she wanted to say were strangely difficult to get out. Ultimately, she couldn‟t tell him the full truth right away, so she stuck with the watered-down version. “Okay, so, my mother‟s Asian and my father black, right? And there‟s a whole set of competing stereotypes that go with each. But there‟s nobody who‟s going to look at me and be like, „Hey, check out the Asian chick.‟ People see me and go, „Black girl,‟ so that‟s the set of stereotypes I feel like I need to combat. I‟ve always felt like I have to be extra vigilant and don‟t do this, don‟t do that, so people can look at the way I live and be like, „Okay, she‟s not the kind of person I thought she was. She‟s smart and she works hard,‟ and all that.” So many words had just tumbled from her mouth that she wasn‟t even sure what she‟d said. When Chris only nodded, with his body turned to face her, she felt selfconscious. “That sounds totally paranoid, doesn‟t it?” she chuckled, hoping he‟d say no. “Paranoid? Yeah,” Chris replied. “But have you ever heard that saying? Just because you‟re paranoid doesn‟t mean they‟re not after you.” Savannah‟s heart fluttered with affinity. “Exactly,” she laughed. Chris looked down into his teacup and Savannah followed suit. Would it take any special skill, she wondered, to read tea leaves? Maybe she could learn. “So, here‟s my paranoid question,” Chris began. “Why didn‟t you stick around last night after the end of my set? Didn‟t you like the band?” “I loved the band,” she nearly shouted. She didn‟t want him to get the wrong impression. “I loved your music. It was incredible. Seriously.”

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Nodding slowly, Chris shrugged his shoulders. “But you left…” What was it about Chris that allowed her to reveal herself in all her neurotic splendor? “Okay, this is going to sound super-paranoid, but when I saw my roommate helping you guys out, I was sure you‟d forgotten all about me. She‟s such a sweet little pixie, you know? And she‟s blonde. Every guy wants a blonde.” “Not this guy,” Chris replied. Taking Savannah‟s tea mug from her hands, he set his and hers side by side at his feet. Before she could really compute what was going on, his soft pink lips met hers. She wasn‟t too surprised to respond, though. Her body anticipated his every move. When his hot tongue moved in her mouth, she sighed and let the tingling sensation in her pelvis spread throughout her body. Slipping her hand behind his neck, she held him close. Even wearing a sloppy hoodie, she could feel her breasts pressing against his chest, and the sensation nearly put her over the edge. When he pulled away, her lips came with him. She wasn‟t ready for the kiss to end, but she had a strong sense that there would be more kisses to follow. Maybe not right this second, but soon they would kiss again. And then, though she didn‟t want to, she thought about Eric and his predicament, and lowered her eyes to the tea mugs on the ground. “Sorry,” Chris said. “I should have asked first.” “No, no,” Savannah consoled him. “No, it‟s not that…” Should she tell him? The Cosmo approach was to never tell one man about experiences with another, but that just didn‟t seem right when the guy was Chris. She knew she could tell him anything. “Last night,” Savannah continued, “I brought my roommate Stacy‟s dad to Kingsley‟s.”

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Chris‟ brow furled in bewilderment. “I thought you and I…” She cut him off. “I know, okay? I know and I am so sorry. Her dad‟s been staying with us because her mom had an affair, and he‟s been sleeping on our couch, and Stacy had left me to babysit him for the evening while she was out screwing your laptop player.” At that, Chris laughed. “Yeah, Yu was pretty psyched that such a hot girl was into him.” Should she go on? Best not to. Chris really didn‟t need to know that she‟d broken their date to go home and fuck a man twice her age. But this was Chris. He wasn‟t like other people. He was…more aware. Picking their mugs up off the floor, he took a sip from hers and handed Savannah his. “I understand,” he said. He looked into her eyes for a while, with no visible hostility, and then he smiled. “Everybody loves an underdog.” Savannah nodded, and then stared into her tea mug. The leaves at the bottom danced when she swirled it. What would they tell her if she knew how to ask? Chris sipped his tea. “Does Stacy know?” “No,” she said firmly. “And I‟m not going to tell her. It‟s too…embarrassing? Or…I don‟t know…I just don‟t want her to find out.” “Your secret‟s safe with me.” She looked at him, deep into his baby-blue eyes, and wondered out loud, “How can you just be okay with things? Why aren‟t you mad about what I‟ve done?” With a shrug, Chris said, “I was disappointed when I didn‟t see you last night, but you‟re here with me now, aren‟t you? You told me a truth. And, ultimately, you‟re not mine in any sense, so how could I be upset about a choice you made?”

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Savannah almost wished he was upset, or jealous, or possessive—that would show the extent of his care for her—but then she thought back to instances of jealousy, upset, and possession she and her friends and family had experienced over time, and realized how enlightened Chris truly was. Most guys couldn‟t let that scalding kind of water roll off their backs. This guy was special. And he had his eye on her. Clinging to her warm mug, Savannah leaned in and kissed Chris‟ lips. She knew other students were walking by, but she didn‟t care who saw. She slipped her tongue inside his mouth and let it mingle with his. Their joint motion was so fluid, it made Savannah smile until she laughed. When she laughed, he did too, and they broke away from the kiss to laugh together. “I like you,” she said, feeling silly but not caring how she sounded. “I like you too,” he replied. Her belly tumbled with glittery tremors. That was such a nice thing to hear. Savannah looked up to the skylight to see if the rain had passed. Nothing but pure, brilliant sunlight shone down on them now. “We should do something together,” Savannah suggested. “Hey, do you think I could come listen to your band rehearse?” Squinting one eye, he said, “I‟ll have to ask Eve about that. She‟s really nervous around people she doesn‟t know.” “She‟s the one who covered her face with her hair on stage?” Chris nodded. “Her voice is just perfect for what we do, but she can‟t stand an audience. It‟s really painful to watch.” “I used to sing a bit when I was younger. If you give her the boot, would you let me audition for your group?”

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Breathing a huge sigh, Chris said, “We would never boot anybody. That‟s not the kind of band we want to be.” He must have seen the disappointment in her eyes, because he followed that up with a consolation. “If Eve ever quits, you‟ll be first on my list, okay?” An irrepressible smile broke across Savannah‟s lips. She could see her life changing with Chris.

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Chapter Sixteen

Eric and Stacy had arranged to pick Savannah up from the library when they were finished with their gallery perusal and stroll around campus. She bid Chris a fond farewell and a “see you soon” before strutting toward the car. Chris had laid hands on her ankle, and she was sure the boy had healing powers that went beyond the capabilities of physical science. The minute she set her butt down in the passenger seat of Eric‟s comfy little car, she felt the tension in the air. It burned her to the bone as she slipped on her seatbelt. Eric mumbled a brief, “Hello,” but Stacy said nothing, and that‟s what convinced Savannah beyond the shadow of a doubt that her roommate knew everything. Her heart stopped beating. At least, that‟s what it felt like. She didn‟t seem to be breathing either. Had her body simply given up on her? Did it not care to function any longer? The atmosphere buzzed as Eric pulled away from the library. She wanted to apologize to Stacy, but she couldn‟t seem to open her mouth and produce speech. God, where was she going to live after Stacy kicked her out? This was nuts! And all because of a stupid dalliance with Eric. His jaw clenched as he drove, and Savannah remembered why she‟d wanted him in the first place. The man was hot, pure and simple. He had a sexy body and an exquisite face. Nice hair, too. Since she couldn‟t seem to speak, Savannah just sat there in the front seat, waiting to be blasted. Every so often she snuck a glance back at her roommate, but Stacy was staring out the window. Savannah thought about all the things she could say

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or ask—“I met up with Chris,” “How was the art exhibition?”—but no question or statement seemed reasonable right now. She would just have to wait for the execution. When they arrived back home, Eric parked in the back visitor‟s lot. Stacy opened her car door, stormed out, and slammed it closed again even before they‟d come to a stop. The second she was gone, the sky opened up again and it began to pour. Savannah didn‟t move. “You told her about us?” “Hmm?” Eric was staring straight ahead, at the massive droplets striking the windshield and flowing down. “What? Oh, no…why?” Now Savannah didn‟t know what was going on. Either Eric was lying or…well, she just didn‟t know. “You and Stacy didn‟t say a word the whole drive. I thought it must have to do with us.” He laughed. “No, it‟s…family stuff, that‟s all. She‟ll get over it.” “Are you getting a divorce?” She wasn‟t sure why she was asking. Did she really want to know? For a long moment, he hesitated. Then, finally, he said, “I don‟t know.” His sadness aroused deep feeling in her heart. As she watched him stare out at the rain, her feelings for Chris tumbled into a land of forgetfulness. She‟d retrieve them later, she knew, but for the moment, she just wanted to make Eric smile again. She wanted to make him happy. Anyway, Chris was so understanding. He wouldn‟t be bothered. “Push your seat back,” Savannah instructed. “Lock the doors.” Eric looked stunned. “What are you…” She pulled off her hoodie to reveal a lacey pink bra holding her breasts firm together. “What are you doing? Someone will see you!”

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Pushing out of her pants, Savannah climbed into Eric‟s lap, glad her ankle would allow it. She reached down beside his seat and pressed back on the latch. The seat moved back, and the backrest fell down. “No one will see us through this rainfall,” Savannah reasoned. “Besides, who knows if we‟ll get another chance. We‟ve got to take advantage of the situation.” Gazing at her tits, Eric nodded slowly. How could he argue? Savannah fought her way past his belt, and in through his zipper. When she found his cock, it was still soft, but she‟d soon change that. With her butt in the air, she leaned forward and kissed Eric hard, pumping his dick all the while. How could she do this to Chris? How could she? The thoughts persisted, but she pushed them aside. This wasn‟t about Chris. It was an act of goodwill toward a man who‟d been cheated on and who felt good for absolutely nothing right now. She needed to make him happy. Nothing to do with Chris. In fact, if Chris were in her situation, he‟d more than likely do the same thing. That‟s just the kind of guy he was. Eric‟s cock hardened in her hand, and her pussy spilled juice onto her pink lace thong. Sure, she wore sweats for comfort, but there was nothing to equal the knowledge that, just beyond the fleecy track pants, she had on the sexiest lingerie known to man. Slipping the crotch of her thong to the side, she held Eric‟s erection still and drove her body down on it. Eric threw his head to the side and let out a magnificent moan while she swallowed him up. Where had all this wetness come from? From kissing Chris? Or had she become instantly aroused the moment Eric turned off the ignition. Not that it mattered why she was so damn horny—all that really mattered was that she had a hard cock to fill her up.

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She rode him. He filled her. She could feel him everywhere. As she attacked his mouth with a fleshy kiss, she bounced in his lap. God, his pants were going to be covered in pussy juice by the time she was finished with him! She hadn‟t pushed them far enough down. At this point, she didn‟t even care. Pants could be washed later, but she had to get off now! Eric grabbed her ass, then her hips, then her tits, and then her hips again. He couldn‟t seem to decided where he wanted to keep them, but Savannah liked his hands on her hips, guiding her motion, helping her along. She pulled her head away from his, and banged it on the ceiling before pulling her tits from the lace that enveloped them and shoving both in his face. He went wild, licking her nipples and her cleavage, sucking and biting. She moved faster on him, sliding her hand down between their bodies to play with her clit. God, she knew what she liked, and right now she just wanted to come. “This is going to be a quickie,” Eric warned her over the sound of falling rain. “You coming?” she asked. She wanted him to. As she scoured her clit, she tightened up her pussy muscles and rode him harder. “God, you are so tight!” Eric plunged his face between Savannah‟s tits and hissed, “Yes!” He dug his fingers into her sides, drew her up, and pulled her down on his dick. The itch was scratched. He‟d got all up in there, and his monster did its job like a pro. “You gonna come?” she cooed. Again, “You gonna come? Tell me you‟re gonna come.” “I‟m gonna come!” he cried, though his voice was muffled by her breasts.

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She let herself fall on him, right flat down on him, and she didn‟t move except to massage his erection with her pussy muscles. As she milked him, he hissed until he squealed. She pictured the hot cream shooting out of his dick to fill her all the way up. The vision was a means of arousal unlike any other. She leaned back without letting his cock fall from her snatch, and she rubbed her wet clit so fast her hand was a blur. Her hips bucked forward with wild approval. Electricity coursed through her veins as Eric sucked her tits. She came again and again, in miniature spurts and jerks, until her clit was too sensitive to touch. When she rolled off Eric‟s spent cock, the rain tumbled down onto the windshield. “See?” she said. “Nobody could have seen us. And wasn‟t that worth it?” “Yeah,” he panted as she tucked her tits back into her bra and threw on her hoodie. “What are we going to say when Stacy asks what took so long?” Savannah just laughed. “Doesn‟t look like she‟s talking to you right now, but if she asks we‟ll just say my ankle was acting up and it took you a long time to get me up the stairs.” Tucking his dick back into his underwear, Eric zipped up his pants and let out a huge sigh. “Certainly didn‟t take you a long time to get me up.” He opened his door and geared up to step out into the rain. “Okay. Let‟s go.” Raindrops pelted Savannah‟s scalp the second she opened the passenger side door. Gritting her teeth, she grabbed her backpack and forced herself onto her feet. When the hell would this pain go away? And it was so off-and-on that she couldn‟t really predict when her ankle was going to hurt and when it wasn‟t.

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“Oh, sorry!” Eric cried, running to her side and scooping her into his grasp. “After that little ride, my legs are ready to give out too.” She tried for a brisk pace toward the side door, but met with little success, so she pulled her fuzzy hood up and over her head to keep the cold rain at bay. Big translucent splotches developed across Eric‟s shirt as the weather pelted him good. “What‟s Stacy so upset about anyway?” Savannah asked. “Not that it‟s any of my business.” Eric let out a forced-casual chuckle. “Oh, it‟s really nothing. She got a call on her cell phone from her mother when we were walking around the campus. Hilary told her I‟ve been…” She‟d started out not wanting to know anything about Eric‟s home life. She hadn‟t wanted to hear his sob story. It must have been the sex that‟d changed things, because now she couldn‟t let go. She wanted to know about him and his wife and his family. “You‟ve been what?” Slowing his pace, he led Savannah across the grass glowing like sprigs of emerald. In the rain, the whole world smelled fresh and alive. The droplets kissing her face and clinging to the tip of her nose somehow lessened her pain. For a brief moment, she felt wonderful. And then Eric said, “I‟ve been smoking a lot of weed lately, that‟s all.” Savannah stopped in her tracks. The rain was soaking through her hoodie now, right where her backpack sat heavy on her shoulder. She dropped the bag and laughed, but Eric only looked at her cock-eyed, like he hadn‟t heard the joke. She looked up at her red brick building. It was all dark and wet, except for the dry patches underneath

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people‟s balconies. How many lives exist beyond those walls? she wondered. How many lives are like mine? Her heart went numb when she returned her gaze to Eric‟s handsome face. His hair streamed in the downpour, and she thought about the shower, where he‟d pinned her to the wall and fucked her. Water, water everywhere… and Eric‟s smoking... “Did you say you‟ve been smoking a lot of weed?” Eric shrugged like he thought he was Mr. Cool. No, he shrugged like Savannah would think he was Mr. Cool. She didn‟t. That must have shown on her face, because he stammered his excuses. “It‟s no big deal. I keep telling Hilary, and today I told Stacy the same thing—that it‟s barely even a drug. I mean, it‟s like alcohol, and you can buy that anywhere. Some people have a drink at the end of a long day, some people smoke tobacco products, I happen to smoke pot. So what?” Tension sizzled in the space between them. She remembered the feel of his tongue on her clit after he‟d frozen it with ice. That‟s how she felt now: numb, and then subjected to Eric‟s diatribe in defense of his drug of choice. She didn‟t really know what to say. Or, maybe she knew what she wanted to say, but she didn‟t actually want to say it. She didn‟t want to start something. In fact, she wanted to end it. “It‟s not like I‟m addicted or anything,” he went on. She could tell by the pitch of his voice that he was trying to convince her, and he could obviously see she wasn‟t buying it. “That‟s the great thing about pot—it‟s non-addictive. It‟s not like booze or cigarettes or hard drugs, where you get hooked and you can‟t kick the habit. I mean, you‟ve spent a lot of time with me over the last couple days. Have I smoked once? No! I

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even brought some stuff with me, and I haven‟t been into it. Sure I use it, but I don‟t need it. I can stop any time.” Before she heard the words in her head, she was saying them. “So stop.” The falling rain barely registered, but the thunder did, off in the distance. “Come on, let‟s get inside,” Eric said. When he touched the arm of her wet sweater, she could have sworn his hand sizzled against it. She could feel his anger. He wanted her to be on his side, and she wasn‟t. He wanted somebody to be on his side, and nobody was. Not even his college-student daughter. Who else could he turn to? When they arrived in discomfiture back at the apartment, Stacy‟s blaring radio cut their shared silence. Stacy‟s bedroom door was closed. Heaving a sigh of relief, Savannah headed to her room to change out of her wet clothes, but Eric grabbed her arm before she got too far. Pulling her close, he whispered in her ear, “I guess you won‟t let me change in your room this time.” She took in a sharp breath and pulled away from him. “You‟re welcome to it after I‟ve finished.” Hobbling to her refuge, she shut the door. God, she wanted to sit down on her bed, fall back into pillows, and sleep. First she had to get out of wet pants, which had gone limp at the bottom. She‟d walked on the hem all the way up the stairs. There came a knock at her door as she slipped out of her clothes, and her heart raced at Eric‟s intrusion. The door opened before she‟d said a word, and just as she started to snip, “I said after I‟m done!” Stacy poked her head inside. “Oh sorry,” Stacy said, lowering her eyes to the floor. “Didn‟t know you were changing.” Relief. Or disappointment?

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“It‟s okay, hun. Come on in.” Savannah jammed her feet into fleecy pajama bottoms as Stacy closed the door and sat on her bed. “I pried,” she admitted. Throwing on the nearest T-shirt, Savannah collapsed on the bed beside her roommate. “I kept asking your dad what was wrong until he told me.” Stacy slunk to the floor and, setting her head against Savannah‟s bad leg, released a torrent of angry tears. “I felt so sorry for him when he came here saying all this stuff about mom and her intern guy and whatever, and it was all his own fucking goddamn fucking fault!” Grabbing the box of tissues from her bedside table, Savannah pushed it down the bed. She hoped to hell Stacy wouldn‟t pick up the heavy scent of Eric‟s cum seeping from her snatch. Savannah was sure she could smell it. God, as if today hadn‟t gone downhill fast enough! What could she say to console her poor roommate? She was so bad at all this. She really and truly sucked at comforting people. “There are tissues, if you want.” “My goddamn fucking father is a pothead! I mean, what the fuck is that? What the fuck? He‟s, like, forty-eight years old!” “Forty-eight?” Savannah asked. “Wow, he barely looks forty! I can‟t believe that— forty-eight? Really?” Stacy looked up with brow furled and a scowl planted firmly on her face. Her red cheeks glistened with tears as she sat up a little straighter beside the bed. Like a helium balloon, her expression suddenly popped, and she slunk back down onto Savannah‟s fleece-covered leg. “I don‟t understand how a middle-aged white-collar white guy gets pot in the first place. Like, what, does he hang out in the hood during his lunch hour?

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How would he even know where to buy it from? What, does he just, like, spot the nearest black guy and ask him for drugs?” And then she quickly self-corrected, “No offence, Sav. I don‟t think all black guys sell drugs. You know I‟m not racist. I just meant…” “It‟s okay,” Savannah interrupted. Better than let Stacy dig herself in any further. “Where he gets it probably isn‟t the biggest issue here.” Pulling a tissue from the box, Stacy blew her nose in one loud expulsion. “No, you‟re right. It‟s just so weird. And, you know, it‟s not even because it‟s pot. My dad was going on and on about, oh, you can buy alcohol everywhere, blah, blah, blah…” “Yeah, he said that to me too.” “But, like, if my mom had called me to say he was drinking every night, I‟d feel exactly the same. It‟s not about the substance, it‟s about, like…” Stacy shook her head, like the words were in there but she couldn‟t quite find them. “You know?” Strangely, and maybe this was simply a result of living together, Savannah did know precisely what she meant. “You wonder what‟s so bad in his life that he has to escape reality. And your mom‟s his everyday reality, so when he comes home and smokes a joint…” “More than one,” she said. With a nod, Savannah went on, “Okay, when he smokes more than one, your mom wonders what she‟s done so wrong that he needs to escape from her.” Savannah was surprised to get all that out without sobbing, but she figured her emotional calm could only indicate a stabilization of her psyche. The last time she‟d come this close to talking about her truth, she‟d wept as hard as Stacy.

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“That‟s exactly it,” Stacy said, nodding in amazement. “How did you know?” That was the question Savannah didn‟t want asked. Right now, she knew she couldn‟t skirt it. She couldn‟t change the topic. She couldn‟t run away. She just had to answer. “When I was young…” She tried to smile, but her lips quivered and fell. “My mom took a lot of prescription painkillers back then. I guess…I mean, yeah, she was addicted. For sure. She wasn‟t working. She was home with us kids, and I remember even before she got up in the morning, she kept a bottle of pills right beside the bed. She‟d be popping pills practically before she opened her eyes, and the whole day she‟d be in a daze. One time she fell down the stairs. She was so doped up she couldn‟t walk straight. I was just a little kid—I thought she was going to die.” “You never told me that,” Stacy said. The tears had stopped rolling down her cheeks, so at least Savannah‟s confession did some good. Sitting up in bed, Savannah shifted until Stacy‟s little blonde head rested on her thigh. Maybe this was how she could console her best friend, after betraying her so badly. Savannah petted Stacy‟s hair. “So I know how you‟re feeling right now. Ashamed?” Stacy‟s head shot straight up. Her eyes were wide with disbelief. “Yeah,” she said. “How did you know?” There was so much of her childhood Savannah never talked about, even within her family, but Stacy needed comforting right now. Maybe she needed comforting too. She felt deceived by Eric. She felt like he wasn‟t the person she thought he was. Maybe sex with her was just his substitute for the drug of choice.

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“I was still little when my mom got help, but to this day I feel ashamed of who she was back then. She was so out of it. She‟d stumble around, hold the pictures on the wall just to keep from falling over. I know was just a kid, but I felt like it was my fault. It‟s probably not what you want to hear, but those feelings never go away. I‟m still mad that she wasn‟t a good mom when I needed her the most. I‟m angry about everything she put my dad through, but I have to remind myself she lived through war. She was little when she left Laos, but she remembers bombs. She remembers people being blown up. It wasn‟t my fault. She was dealing with a lot of bad stuff inside her own mind. Still…” Stacy hugged her around the waist and said, “Aww, Sav, it‟s not your fault.” With a strained laugh, Savannah fluffed Stacy‟s hair. “Here I‟m supposed to be comforting you, and you end up making me feel better! How did that happen?” As they sat together in conciliatory quiet, Savannah tried hard not to think. She didn‟t like opening a path by which the past could creep in. Instead, she reflected on Stacy‟s problem. “Maybe in your dad‟s line of work he‟s seen a lot of bad stuff too, right? Maybe it preys on him.” With a slow shrug, Stacy reasoned, “It‟s possible. He used to do field work all over the world when I was growing up. But I just don‟t feel like that‟s an excuse for making my mom feel like shit.” Brushing away a flow of tears, Stacy sighed. “What the hell are we going to do with my father?” Savannah firmly decided against doing anything more with him, but she didn‟t tell Stacy that. “Send him home,” she said, though the words sounded harsh. “If your mother will have him, let them work it out.”

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“Yeah.” Stacy stared at the wall behind the bed. “She wants them to have couple‟s therapy. That‟s probably a good idea. I still can‟t believe it all, though. My parents! They‟re like characters in a movie—one of those independent Canadian films.” Savannah laughed. Stacy obviously didn‟t know how right she was. “Your part would be played by Sarah Polley. That girl‟s in everything, and she‟s got your skin tone…and hair colour. There you go! You‟ve got a box office draw already.” “Yeah, for when I sell my life story.” Stacy‟s brow furled and a quizzical expression took over. She‟d spotted something, that was for sure. Oh god, had Savannah not put away her big black dong? Last thing she wanted was for Stacy to find that damn thing. Too late! Stacy crawled forward, reached under Savannah‟s bed, and brought out… and brought out…a book! “Since when do you read romance novels?” Stacy laughed. “Hey, you stole this from me! I remember the cover. Have no idea what the story was about…” With cool dismissal in her tone, Savannah said, “They‟re all identical anyway. One love story‟s the same as the next.” Stacy rose to her feet and smacked Savannah in the arm with the paperback. “Whatever! You were reading it, chickie.” “Me? No,” Savannah mock-scoffed. “Never. Your dad must have left it in here.” Throwing her head back, Stacy let out a loud cackle. “Yeah right. And what would my dad be doing in your bed? Hmm?” Savannah felt her expression fall, though Stacy was still laughing. She gulped. She must look so guilty right now. What could she do to look less so? Smile. She forced

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herself to laugh. Stacy had no idea, and she‟d never know. Savannah would never tell her. “Yeah,” Savannah chuckled. “Your dad is so hot. I totally want his pasty white body.” Stacy walked to the door, set one hand on the knob, and then hesitated. She turned around, and Savannah was sure the girl could see the truth. But she‟d moved on, back to the problem sitting in wet clothes on their living room couch. “What do I say to him?” Savannah searched her heart, but came up dry. She had her experience, but she was no expert. Shaking her head, she said, “I really don‟t know.”

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Chapter Seventeen

She would have called Chris, but she didn‟t have his number. The apartment had gone silent, and she just wasn‟t in the mood to sit around studying. It‟s not like she could concentrate anyway. Eric. She kept thinking about Eric getting high. It seemed so unlikely—maybe that‟s what had drawn Savannah to him in the first place: he‟d seemed above reproach. Sure, he drank a lot those first few nights, but the binging seemed forgivable. Hell, he‟d just been cheated on by his wife! He deserved to blow off some steam. With an aching sigh, Savannah reached down to open the front pouch of her backpack. Strange—it was already unzipped. She must have been in such a rush to get out of the library with Chris that she‟d neglected that one. Whatever. Nothing was missing. When she pulled out her planner, already open to today‟s date, her eyes shot straight to the bright green ink at the bottom of the page. In highlighter, it read, To Do: Call Chris. His number was underneath. Tossing her head back, she laughed with every ounce of glee rushing through her veins. Her fingers had minds of their own—they tapped against the mattress. When her toes did the same against the floor, a shock ran up her leg. Damn! She kept forgetting about that stupid ankle of hers. Why wouldn‟t it just heal, for goodness‟ sake? As she searched her backpack for the eternally-errant phone, the hinge on the balcony door screeched. Eric and Stacy spoke in low voices as they came inside—she couldn‟t hear what they were saying. The rain had cleared and they sky was dressed in

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shades of dusk. Savannah felt something plastic and buttony, and pulled it from her bag—a phone! What luck. She felt strangely nervous about talking to Chris on the phone, despite having talked to him in person all afternoon, but she didn‟t want to text him—she wasn‟t sure if this number was a cell or home phone. Hell, she wasn‟t even sure if he lived in residence, with roommates, with family, or what! There came a muffled tap on her bedroom door and she nearly tossed the phone up in the air. “Sav?” Stacy asked, “mind if I come in?” Savannah shoved her planner and her phone to the bottom of her bag. Her heart raced as she said, “Yeah, okay.” Stacy looked like a wise mountain woman with a knit blanket around her shoulders and an expression of understanding on her face. “It‟s getting chilly outside.” She smiled. Her cheeks were rosy, but her eyes and her nose didn‟t look red with tears. “I‟m going home with my dad.” “You‟re going to miss classes?” Savannah asked, though she wasn‟t sure why that was the first question that popped into her mind. Seemed like the more relevant questions would be, “Did you talk? What did he say? What have you all decided about your family‟s future?” But as those thoughts zipped like shooting stars across her mind, she realized it was none of her business. That hurt. She‟d slept with Eric. She‟d slept with him more than once. But had there ever been any sort of connection between them? Had she loved him? No more than she loved Stacy. She‟d wanted to cheer him up, and at one point, to get back at Stacy and at Chris for a wrong she‟d only imagined. Still…Savannah felt a loss.

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“I‟m driving home with him tonight and then I‟ll take the five-thirteen bus back in the morning…if I can wake up that early. We both feel it would be good to sit down as a family and talk about everything. I think my parents want to stay together—at least, that‟s the sense I get from them.” Stacy pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “So, I‟m just going to throw a pair of pyjamas in a bag, and then we‟re leaving.” Savannah nodded, but couldn‟t bring herself to say anything as Stacy traced a specter‟s path to her bedroom. Eric was packing too—she could hear him in the living room. She couldn‟t not say goodbye, right? She had to. Easing herself off the bed, she hobbled into the hallway. When Eric looked up, she froze. For a moment, she felt so awkward she had to look away. Staring into the kitchen, she chuckled with a belly full of nerves. “So, you‟re going home?” “Yeah,” he said. Savannah managed to get a glimpse at his gauche smile as he folded clothes. “I‟ll get out of your hair. I‟m sure you‟ll be glad to have your couch back, right?” “Right,” she replied, for Stacy‟s benefit. Their bedroom doors were thin, and the apartment was so damn quiet. Even the fridge wasn‟t buzzing. Maybe it was broken. She swept into the kitchen to check, but as soon as she‟d opened it up, the motor kicked in. “I guess it‟s okay,” she said to herself. Eric perked up. “What‟s okay?” She‟d meant the fridge, but was aware he thought she was referring to his leaving. Her breath rattled in her chest. “You‟re leaving,” she repeated. As soon as the words had left her mouth, she was sure he‟d heard “your leaving” in response to his

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question, and her stomach sunk. This goodbye was not going well. “I hope you can work things out with Helen,” she said before he could misinterpret anything else. “With Hilary?” he asked. Savannah leaned her elbows on the kitchen counter and let her head fall into her hands. “Yeah.” Hilary—like the mom from Fresh Prince. Why was that so hard to remember? When she was little, she wished to hell any of the three actors who played that vacant but ever-present character would be her mother. Hilary. The name soured in her belly. Her ankle screamed with pain as she pawed through the cupboards for a soda cracker. Savannah gave in. “I‟m sorry, I just don‟t know what to say.” Eric‟s eyes teemed with alarm as his gaze shot to Stacy‟s bedroom door. He was right. She couldn‟t break down now. “I hope…” She was going to say, “I hope you get better,” but she recognized that he didn‟t feel as though anything was wrong with him. He wasn‟t addicted. He wasn‟t affected. He didn‟t need it. And maybe if he lived alone and had no dependents, Savannah would agree. But that wasn‟t the case, was it? He was hurting his wife. And everything he‟d done with Savannah? How would Helen…no, Hilary…how would Hilary feel if she knew about that? It wouldn‟t matter that she‟d cheated first. She‟d still be hurt if she found out her husband fucked a college girl—and their daughter‟s roommate, to boot! When Savannah looked up at Eric and met his gaze straight on, she didn‟t see the man she‟d made love with on the couch. Even Lucy paled, in her mind. Every memory of him was grass-stained now. “Keep up the good work at IHAO. I bet a lot of people are living better lives because of you.”

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As she turned to leave the kitchen, he ran to her and caught her from behind. She didn‟t care enough to struggle. Even if Stacy caught a glimpse of whatever he was about to do, what difference did it make? At this point, Stacy would be more upset with her father than with Savannah. “What?” she hissed as Eric spun her around and hugged her close. His chest jumped against hers, and he released a low sob, still clinging to her body. She‟d never felt quite this uncomfortable with Eric. As she pulled away, she saw the tears streaming from his blue eyes. His white-blond hair looked thin and messy, and his expression of pain pronounced the crow‟s feet clawing across his face. When he whimpered, “Thank you,” she felt sorry for him. Savannah left Eric in the kitchen and hobbled to the bathroom. When she‟d closed the door, she turned on the water, stripped naked, and released a torrent of tears. She leaned against the tile to take pressure off her poor ankle, and scrubbed Eric from her body. The act was empowering. In one weekend, her life had shifted. One affair, and she would never be the same. She didn‟t feel like a bad person—not exactly. If anything, she felt like she knew something now that she‟d never known before. After Stacy called out her goodbyes and left the apartment with her dad, Savannah dried her tears and her dripping wet body. Wearing only a towel, she crept back into her room and reached inside her backpack. She pulled out her planner and, after some fishing around in there, her cell. Chris answered straight away, like he‟d been waiting for her call. “Can I see you?” she asked.

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Of course. Of course she could. He‟d been hoping she would phone him up. He‟d even convinced one of his roommates to lend him her car so he could take Savannah somewhere special. Savannah smiled when Chris talked about living in a house with a guy and a girl. His place was probably neat and clean, with minimal decaying garbage and other assorted foul odors. Plus, living with a girl surely added to his sensitivity in relating to other people—though, Savannah realized, that was an odd assumption for her make when all weekend she‟d made a pig of her attempts to console both Stacy and Eric. Or, maybe she‟d done an okay job with Stacy today, but she‟d totally failed with her dad. Anyway, why was she thinking about all that when she was on the phone with Chris? The past belonged in the past, and Chris was her future. “So, give me your address,” he said. “I‟ll leave the house now and I‟ll be there soon as the car lets me. Wear something comfortable.” Wear something comfortable? As in, “let me slip into something a little more comfortable,” or as in, “Put on your sweats, we‟re digging for worms”? She cut her losses and tossed on her famous blue flare jeans over the sluttiest thong in her underwear drawer. As Savannah slid into the passenger seat of Chris‟ roommate‟s car, she couldn‟t conceal the smile that had plastered itself to her lips. Moreover, she didn‟t want to. It matched his. Chris‟ driving was smooth, like his personality and his manner of speech. They had everything to talk about. She asked about his roommates, and he told her they were actually his fellow band members—this was Eve‟s car. That‟s how they ended up

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with a vocalist who was afraid to sing in public. Chris and Yu had collaborated on a few projects when they started to hear this angelic little voice singing from the bathroom, or the hallway, or wherever. Eve was a true poet. She made up lyrics on the fly as he and Yu rehearsed their songs over and over again. Soon, they had a singer. Before that, they hadn‟t even realized they were writing songs. When Chris slowed down, Savannah looked around. “I don‟t think you can park here. This is a hospital zone.” “That‟s okay,” he replied. “We‟re going to the hospital. You‟re going to have someone look at that ankle.” Savannah‟s fingernails dug into her purse. She took a sharp breath in and held it high up in her chest. Chris definitely heard it, but he only smiled as he stepped out of the car. If she‟d wanted to go to the hospital, she would have damn well gone to the hospital on her own. There was nothing wrong with her ankle. Well, there was, but it wasn‟t a big deal. Why did nobody believe her? She was fine. “Oh,” Chris said, almost as an afterthought, when he opened the passenger door for her. “Did you bring your health card? Because they‟ll want to see it at triage.” “Yes,” she hissed through gritted teeth. This was not her idea of a memorable first date.

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Chapter Eighteen

“Aren‟t you glad I brought you here?” Chris teased as he helped Savannah into the car. “All this time you‟ve been walking around on a torn anterior talo-fibular ligament!” “Also known as a sprained ankle.” After spending three hours in emerge and one hundred and twenty seven dollars on a damn brace, she was back to liking Chris…a lot. Her mood had dipped below sea level for a while. She was really and truly pissed at first—she‟d said no doctors and he took it upon himself to bring her anyway? How could she not feel a little trampled? But Chris‟ spirits were so eternally high that she couldn‟t help feeling hers elevate after fifteen minutes sitting next to him. In the waiting room, they talked about everything and nothing, they flipped through magazines and poked fun at pop culture. They laughed a lot. And then they talked about Eric. “I‟m surprised by your reaction,” Chris had said. Savannah‟s heart nearly stopped at the perceived criticism. “What do you mean, my reaction?” He‟d set down his magazine on the messy table in the middle of the waiting room, and turned to look her straight in the eye. “When you learned new information about this man, Eric, you automatically shut him out?” “Yeah,” she said in a whisper. She didn‟t want the other people waiting at emerge listening in. “I guess, but so what? He wasn‟t the person I thought he was.”

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“Or maybe the person you somewhat idolized turned out to be human, and that disappointed you.” Idolized? She hadn‟t idolized Eric, had she? No, she‟d felt sorry for him, if anything. “Maybe when I found out he was a pothead, he didn‟t seem as worthy of my sympathy…or something…you know?” Chris had nodded. “But maybe that quality actually makes him more worthy of your sympathy. We don‟t seek refuge from pain that isn‟t there.” Savannah had laughed, then winced as she tried to lift up her ankle. “I don‟t even seek refuge from the pain that is there.” When Chris laughed, she‟d watched his lean body bounce in the ratty waiting room chair. His smile was inexplicably bright in the dead of night. He‟d shifted his orange dreads from his shoulder, and she‟d set her head down against it. Was it her imagination, or did he still smell like jasmine tea? **** As Chris guided Savannah into her apartment, he said, “Remember RICE: Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation.” Ice. Savannah felt a brief „what was I thinking?‟ chill as she looked over at the couch. Eric‟s hands had melted ice down her belly, his cock had infiltrated her numb pussy...what a strange few days. A fizz of ebullient emotion sprang up in her heart, and she hugged Chris‟ arm tight to her chest. Most guys wouldn‟t want to hear everything she‟d told him today, but she trusted Chris with her secrets. He seemed to understand everything. There were no other guys like him. “Can you take me to my bedroom?” she asked. “It‟s at the end of the hall.”

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She hopped alongside him, clinging to his arm. The strength within him trembled in his lean muscles. He was commanding in a metaphysical way—she could feel the power resonating from his soul. It was strange, but comforting. “I was hoping they‟d put you in a cast,” Chris laughed as he opened her bedroom door. “I wanted to sign it.” She watched him look around her space as he led her to the bed. They sat together on the edge of the mattress, side by side, and they looked at each other in the mirrored length of her closet door. For what seemed like a very long time, they rested together, touching only at their thighs, gazing into the mirror and breathing deeply. She felt so attuned to him already. Just sitting here next to him, her body tingled…no, it wasn‟t just her body, was it? Her psyche trembled in his presence. She remembered his music, and how impressed she‟d been, how it had impacted her on levels she couldn‟t comprehend. He was so deep in her already. He‟d touched places…he‟d been places inside of her she didn‟t know yet. “You can sign me,” she said. “Hmm?” Pointing to her backpack, she said, “There are markers in the front pouch. Since there‟s no cast to sign, you can sign me.” With a grin across his cheeks, Chris fell to his knees and zipped open her bag. “Where?” Why did she take off her top? She couldn‟t quite say. It just seemed like the thing to do. She pulled it over her head and traced a finger across her belly. “Here.”

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Chris laughed. “I meant „where are the markers?‟ but don‟t worry—I found them. Non-toxic, huh?” She could have felt embarrassed for misinterpreting, but why bother? With Chris, she felt strangely at ease. She felt a kind of freedom she‟d never experienced. It was wonderful, and it encouraged her to unzip her jeans and shuffle out of them—which was easier accomplished in her mind than in practice. Chris smiled, of course, as any boy would smile in the presence of young nudity, but he also shifted toward her to help pull her jeans past the ankle brace. She noticed him noticing her barely-there thong. The lust in his eyes seemed tempered by something else. Adoration? Appreciation on some level beyond the purely sexual. And that made her nod, as though her body were saying, “I understand the sentiment, and yes, I agree.” Setting the markers out on the bed beside her, he kneeled before her and gently lifted her injured ankle up and over his shoulder. “Elevation.” He wore jeans and a threadbare button-down shirt over a visible undershirt, and still Savannah felt overdressed. She unhooked her bra with one hand and the weight of her breasts brought the cups swinging down and the straps tumbling across of her arms. Raising one hand at a time from the bed, she untangled herself from her bra as Chris looked on. “Bare,” she said. “Almost completely.” Nodding, he gazed the length of her, from her eyes, down her chest, to her very extremities. “What colour should I sign in?” he asked, running his fingers across the markers on the bed. “Every colour,” she replied. “Maybe not yellow—it won‟t show up on my skin.”

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But Chris was apparently not one to take things for granted. He uncapped the yellow marker first. The tip felt wet and cold as it met the flesh of her belly. She watched him sign Chris, but when he moved the marker away, she said, “Nothing‟s there.” “That isn‟t true,” he replied. “You saw me press the marker against your skin. I‟m sure you felt it as I signed. Just because you can‟t see it doesn‟t mean it isn‟t there.” Suddenly Savannah‟s heart felt too big for her chest. She inhaled quickly, in a gasp, as her eyes filled with tears. The inexplicably big emotion overtook her, until she was gulping back sheer sentiment. What was this feeling? It wasn‟t sadness…no, sadness she‟d met many times before. This…this was elation. She felt too big to be embodied. Her soul seemed to expand in every direction. And when she released her hold on that cascade of tears, Chris kissed his fingers and pressed them to her wet cheeks. “I don‟t know what‟s wrong with me,” Savannah said, trying to make light of herself. “Nothing‟s wrong with you,” Chris replied with a smile that glowed past her tears. “You have emotions, and you‟re letting me see them. There‟s no greater commune.” “Sex,” she countered before she could stop herself. “Sex is emotion in motion.” He picked up the red marker, and wrote the words across her belly. “Mae West said that.” And then he slipped out from under her leg and lifted her, laid her out like a gown on the unmade bed. Sitting beside her, he traced her flesh with his eyes and she felt his gaze like feathers upon her skin.

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She felt as though the happenings of now were somehow bigger than the world outside her bedroom. This experience, strange and exciting, was the microcosm of a new conviction of the heart. She would be changed by it. As Chris reached for a new marker—blue, this time—she asked, “Could you write me a poem?” “On the spot?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. She could tell he was surprised she‟d request such a complicated task. Tracing her fingers up her legs and her belly, then around her bare tits and down her arms, she replied, “On all these spots. Can you?” Licking his pink lips, Chris smirked. “I don‟t see why not.” Fully clothed, he straddled her stomach without setting his weight down. She watched him cogitate. Already, she loved his mind. He was a creative and a scientist— what more could she desire? And then his eyebrows jumped and a huge smile broke across his lips. He set the felt tip of her blue marker against her upturned wrist and started to write. The slick ink tickled her skin as he wrote on it in devoted silence. She couldn‟t read the words, and asked, “What does it say?” as he traced the marker across her chest. “Patience,” he whispered, grabbing the green marker and continuing down her left arm. He worked fast. The letters were big and sloppy, but his work made her smile. When he reached her left wrist, he sat between her open thighs and wrote in black and then red and then purple down her belly, down her right leg, up her left. The markers tickled her tender flesh, but the pressure of his fingers filled her with desire. Under her thong, the one item of clothing that remained, she was wet with anticipation.

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“There,” he said, obviously self-satisfied. “Your poem. It‟s finished.” She gazed down at her multi-coloured body and her heart burbled with giggles. “What does it say?” With a formal nod, Chris perched himself over her. She gasped at his proximity. Setting his fingertips against her left wrist, he traced them across her body as he read: Savannah’s skin is my palimpsest, to write on and over everything that’s been written on and over and on and over and on and over her guarded heart, her determined mind, her weary life, and not least, her torn anterior talofibular ligament. She laughed at the last line. Now she could see the words anterior talofibular ligament ran the entire length of her left leg in purple markers, like a series of big, lettershaped bruises. “Your poem doesn‟t rhyme,” she chuckled. “Well,” he replied in a mockingly taken-aback tone, “you never said it had to rhyme. Should I clear it all away?” Lifting her wrist to his mouth, he placed the tip of his tongue against her flesh and gave it a warm lick.

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She gasped, though she didn‟t intend to. “No. Leave it. It‟s beautiful.” She wished he would read it again—she wasn‟t sure she caught the full meaning the first time around—but his tongue was now moving up her arm, smudging his beautiful words. “All is ephemeral,” he said, kissing the tender nook of her elbow. “Yes,” she whispered. Of course he was right, but that didn‟t stop her from wanting something to hold on to. She decided, if her poem wouldn‟t last into the ages, she could at least hold on to his hair. Chris looked up and smiled. “Seizing the reins?” “I get the sense I couldn‟t steer you if I tried. You choose your own path.” He nodded, but said, “The path chooses me.” Releasing his dreads, Savannah traced her hands down his face, crossing his cheeks and running a finger down the ridge on his nose, across his lips, in a circle on his stubbled chin. And then down. She unbuttoned his shirt from the top while he worked at it bottom-up, never removing his gaze from her. His blue eyes shone in the dim light from across the room. With him, she felt surrounded by candlelight, even when there was none. She knew she was special. That‟s how she felt with Chris. There was truly nobody else for him. Chris swung his legs around the side of the bed and let his shirt, undershirt and then his pants fall to the floor. When he stood beside her, he seemed miraculously tall. His pale shoulders curved in, drawing her eye to the orangey-brown hair around his pink nipples. There wasn‟t a lot of it—there wasn‟t so much that he appeared bearish—but there was enough that she could look at his chest and think, „He‟s a man.‟ If there was

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any question regarding the extent of his masculinity, the bulge beneath his tightie whities cleared that right up. Savannah was almost embarrassed that her eyes shot right to that spot, but she wasn‟t embarrassed enough to stop looking. She liked the trail of hair running down his belly. What did the kids call that strip below the navel, back when she was in middle school? The happy trail? Something along those lines. She reached for it, stretching her arm out as far as it would go, but Chris‟ body was just too far away. “Ah, but a man‟s reach should exceed his grasp,” he whispered, “or what‟s a heaven for? Robert Browning.” “Are you an English major now?” she chuckled as he took her hand in his and approached the bed. “English minor.” Setting her fingertips just below his belly button, he pushed down on his underwear. A raging erection shot out of it so fast Savannah gasped. It urged up against her wrist as she traced her hand down Chris‟ front. He moaned and tossed his orange dreads side to side. His smile reminded her of…something… It wasn‟t like Eric‟s—that had been a smile of gratitude directed toward Savannah. Chris‟ smile seemed to express gratitude directly toward the maker of his fine physical form. He seemed grateful for the ability to experience such pleasures. Savannah enjoyed her own brand of gratitude as she let her fingers fall past the base of Chris‟ hard cock. It was big. It was really big. She hadn‟t expected big of Chris. There was something about his mild manner and his hippie poeticism—not to mention his lean and lanky body—that made her think his dick would be somewhat slimmer. Not

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that she‟d really thought about it. One makes assumptions, though. Hers were wildly inaccurate. Brushing her fingers down his balls, she cupped them gently. Chris‟ breath hitched, and he closed his eyes, directing his face up toward the ceiling. She had to touch it. It was looking straight at her with its gleaming pink head. And then a thought occurred to her: “Condoms.” His eyes burst open as though he found the statement shocking. “You want to?” he asked. “To use a condom?” When he laughed, his curved shoulders bounced, and his cock did too. His balls jiggled under its weight. “No, I mean, you want to go all the way? I wasn‟t sure…” Now Savannah laughed. „All the way‟ seemed like such an outdated term, and it amused her that Chris would use it. “I just assumed…” Now she took the sexual leap of fitting her fist around the base of his cock. Its girth was so massive she couldn‟t quite touch her thumb to her index finger, and that realization made her gasp in time with Chris. She pulled her hand slowly down the supple flesh his shaft, closing in on his cockhead, and then releasing him altogether. “But if you don‟t want to…” “Very funny.” He rolled his eyes and smirked. “Of course I want to make love to you, Savannah, but we‟re not animals. We‟re evolved. We take our time with fingers and tongues before we get to all that.” “Tongues?” she asked. Now there was a word that always piqued her interest. “Where are we putting these tongues?”

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With a grin, Chris sat next to her on the bed. Bending over her naked front, he said, “I was thinking I‟d start here.” And, without further delay, he licked her nipple. Savannah‟s body rippled with pleasure. His tongue was warm, but he licked her so fleetingly that her nipple fell prey to the cool night air. She watched it harden into a stiff peak as Chris moved to the other breast and licked in circles. He climbed carefully over her leg and settled in between her thighs, kissing a path down her electric body. “You‟re going to get marker all over your face!” she laughed. Her core was pounding in anticipation of the skill Chris might bring. The last thing she wanted to do was stop him. Fortunately, it seemed like there was nothing she could say that would keep him from kissing her body. When he arrived at her belly, Chris slid his fingertips beneath the thin elastic of her slutty g-string. If it wasn‟t for the sprained ankle, she might have dug both heels into the mattress and pushed her mound sky-high. His touch made her wild. Every time his fingers brushed her flesh, she just wanted more, more, more! He pulled down on the sides of her thong. She could easily pull one leg out, but Chris was slow and careful as he lifted her other ankle to take it off. Now she was bare. Utterly nude. Naked as the day she was born. And Chris kneeled between her legs, gazing in wonderment at her reclining body. Folding a pillow beneath her head, Savannah let her hands rest underneath. She bent her good leg and gazed past the marker gracing her skin. Chris met her gaze with adoration as he descended between her thighs. Grasping her ass in his hands, he blew gently on her trim pubic hair. The cool breeze made her shudder, and she opened her legs a little wider, offering her body to him. She could hardly watch as his tongue lolled

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out of his mouth. She knew how good it would feel, and she wasn‟t sure she could handle the pleasure. When she closed her eyes, his tongue touched down on her pussy lips. Hot on hot. She couldn‟t really tell who gave off more heat, but they sizzled when they joined together, mouth on mound. Her lips were wet. His lips were wet. As he lapped at her slit, they were nothing but sopping warmth on sopping warmth. When he licked her clit, her belly muscles went into spasm all at once, and her upper body jerked forward. Her brain wasn‟t a part of this anymore. She was all reflex reacting to stimuli. Her mind melted in a pool of hot pleasure. Tracing his hands up her front, Chris sucked Savannah‟s clit. She tossed her head back and forth on the pillow until hair covered her face and she had to spit it out of her mouth. When he tweaked her nipples, she felt electricity in her clit. Everything was connected. Her neurons overshot their bounds and made her toes and fingers twitch. She grabbed his head and guided him back and forth, since it was still hard to thrust her lips with an injured ankle. He ate her pussy at triple speed, like a squirrel gnawing fruit. She didn‟t even know what the hell he was doing anymore, but he worked so fast it didn‟t even matter. Everything felt like a highly corrupted version of heaven as he licked and lapped and bit and gnawed on her pussy. She dug her fingers hard into his scalp and commanded him to make her come. He did not disappoint. He kept at her until she squealed and closed her thighs over his ears. She pressed them together like his head was a nut she was trying to crack. Ripples of pleasure soared through her muscles and she cried out with intense gratification until she couldn‟t take any more.

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There were condoms in an old chocolate tin by the bed. She couldn‟t quite reach it and didn‟t have the energy to move, but Chris took instruction well. He grabbed a packet and slipped the latex down his firm shaft. “Have you ever tried Tantric sex?” he asked. “No.” She could barely catch her breath to speak. “No, I don‟t think so.” He slid his sheathed cock inside of her, and every muscle rebounded. She sighed again and again as her rejuvenated body sprang to life. Her pussy enveloped him. He was hard, but she was soft, and together they were warm and wet. Wrapping his arms around her core, he kissed her lips without moving his hips. “Milk my cock,” he instructed. He didn‟t thrust in her body. He was the still point around which her muscles danced. “Like this?” she asked, tightening up her pussy and then relaxing. When he moaned in her ear, she knew it was good. She tried again, and this time evoked a strong reaction of her own. He kissed her in long, lingering sweeps of his tongue against hers. She could feel her tits pressing up on his chest, meeting the hair there. Her belly met his, and they were connected pussy to cock. They moved only on the inside: tongues inside mouths and cock inside pussy. Chris rocked his hips gently while Savannah‟s muscles milked him like wet hands on a hard shaft. The sensation astounded her. Without the distraction of external motion, she could feel every minute movement of his cock. When she compressed her pussy against his huge erection, she felt pangs of him everywhere. She had devoured him, but he had taken over her body. He inhabited her. She embraced him. The togetherness

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she felt in this moment would never be drawn out of her. Her cells would remember this day forever. She milked him with quick, successive compressions of her pussy muscles, seeing his cock‟s enjoyment in her mind‟s eye. Every simple action was augmented tenfold by the stillness outside. Peace was all around them, and the frenzy was inside. He squeezed her tight in his arms. He kissed her hard with his mouth. She wrung his cock with her powerful pussy until she knew for certain they were on the brink. And then he jutted forward, ramming his erection deep inside of her, and her mind exploded with a burst of white light, followed by crystal rain. Her breath jumped and seized in her lungs. Her heart beat like a drum. Or was that his heart? They were so close it was hard to tell him from herself. Better yet, they were joined together in a manner that went beyond the physical. She felt as though she‟d invited Chris to share in the most intimate aspects of her being—her mind, and her heart and…her soul? Spirit? Something as yet undiscovered, but more important than anything she knew.

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Chapter Nineteen

They slept in each other‟s arms, and when Savannah awoke the next morning, she‟d already missed two classes. Extenuating circumstances, she figured. It wasn‟t every day she opened her eyes to find the handsome King of Chem Lab gazing back at her. She still couldn‟t believe Chris was really in her bed, under the covers, right by her side! “Morning,” he said, tracing the outline of her jaw with his fingertips. “Morning,” she mumbled back, covering her mouth with her hand. God, how she would love to kiss him…but not before brushing her teeth. “Time for a shower?” Savannah offered a nod, and tried not to yawn. She moaned as Chris put an arm around her shoulder and helped her sit up in bed. Like a gentlemanly serpent, he slid down her body to take off her ankle brace. When she got a good look at his naked body, she couldn‟t help exploding with laughter. His face fell. “What?” She pointed to the traces of marker all down his chest, his belly, his arms and his legs. “The poem you wrote on my skin…it‟s all over you!” He looked at the backwards letters on his pale flesh and laughed. “That‟s the difference between making love and fucking: when you make love, pieces of you rub off on your partner.” Savannah had never drawn much distinction between making love and fucking, and she wasn‟t perfectly convinced by his argument, but she had a feeling, over time,

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he could sway her. She was fortified by his faith in intangibles. In the shower, Chris washed the marker stains from their skin even as he worshipped her flesh. He licked her under the falling water. He kissed her everywhere. His touch was electric. Their next class wasn‟t until three. Ample time for Chris to cook up a little breakfast while Savannah rested her ankle on the coffee table…just like the other night with Eric. A sense of discomfort came over her when she thought about all she‟d done on this couch with her roommate‟s dad. Last week, she‟d been all excited about Chris‟ invitation to Kingsley‟s. Now Chris was standing in her kitchen cooking her breakfast. In between, she‟d fucked Stacy‟s father before learning anything about him. What a weird tangent life had taken her on this weekend. As she lowered her gaze to the floor, a brightly-coloured book jacket caught her eye. If she leaned down and to the side, she could grab it without removing her foot from the table. The book was hers. It was the autobiography she‟d loaned to Eric the first night he stayed over. He must not have read it. Too bad…it was a heart-wrenching account of an African woman‟s experiences of mutilation, abuse, arranged marriage, and rebellion. She really thought Eric would enjoy it. Savannah felt a sense of loss in her core as she opened the book, but her heart nearly stopped when she perused the acknowledgements. She had to read the words twice over before she could believe it was true. “Oh my god!” “Oh my god what?” Chris asked as he brought her a plate of French toast and a glass of orange juice. He set them on the side table while she shoved the book in his face. “Look at this! Look at the name here!”

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Squinting at the tiny letters, Chris read, “Thank you also to Eric van Bruggen of the International Humanitarian Aid Organization, who has worked tirelessly on behalf of women in poverty regions, and whose encouragement gave me the confidence to tell my story.” Chris offered a faint smile, but obviously didn‟t get it. “Eric,” Savannah said. “This is the guy, Stacy‟s dad!” Chris‟ eyes grew wide. He was obviously impressed. “I gave him this book to read and he didn‟t say anything about knowing the author, or working with her, or any of that!” Sitting on the arm of the sofa, Chris set his hand on Savannah‟s shoulder and pulled her close to his warm body. “And this puts a different spin on your experience with him?” She nodded. She didn‟t want Chris to feel jealous, but at the same time she knew that wasn‟t in his nature. “He‟s done good work. That‟s what drew me to him from the start. He works for the world, and…I mean, I guess that‟s what I want to do in some way, when I‟m finished my degree. I want to do good.” She wasn‟t sure exactly what that meant yet, but she had at least another year and a half to figure it out. And Chris would help her find her calling—she was sure of that. As for Eric, “It‟s hard to reconcile, you know, when there are things about a person you admire, and other things about them you don‟t like at all. But I can‟t deny the positive impact he‟s had on so many people.” “Including you,” Chris said. “He‟s inspired you.” Chris‟ giving smile was contagious. She caught it like a fever. “I guess he has, yeah. Inspired me to give, and to stay aware.” As Chris handed Savannah her glass of

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orange juice, she realized she ought to offer him a few words of encouragement. “Don‟t worry, though. It‟s not like I‟m looking to hook up with Stacy‟s dad again. It happened, but it‟s over now.” “I know,” he said simply. “The only constant is change.” A heavy feeling spread across the base of Savannah‟s stomach. “Oh…” She took a long sip of orange juice to build up her strength. “Chris, I know your life is all about honesty and everything, but…please don‟t tell my roommate about all this. The last thing I want is for Stacy to know I slept with her dad. Jesus, she‟d probably throw me off the balcony!” “I doubt that,” Chris said, looking toward the window. He smiled as the sunlight met their shower-clean skin. “One day you might want to tell her. Until then, you can count on me to be discrete.” “Thank you. I appreciate it.” Gazing at the pulp floating on top of her juice, Savannah bit her lip. “Anyway, I wanted you before I wanted him. And now all I want is you. Nobody else.” When she looked up into his face, he was beaming with all the radiance of the late-morning sun. Planting a lingering kiss on her forehead, Chris said, “The feeling is mutual,” and her heart soared. He rose to fetch syrup and butter and tea and all manner of things from the kitchen, but she knew he‟d be back. Maybe Chris was right and the only constant was change, but Savannah had a funny feeling he‟d stay by her side for a good long time.

The End

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ABOUT GISELLE RENARDE Giselle Renarde is a proud Canadian, supporter of the arts, and activist for women’s and LGBT rights. For information on Giselle and her work, visit her website at www.freewebs.com/gisellerenarde/ or her blog at donutsdesires.blogspot.com. Ms Renarde lives across from a park with two bilingual cats who sleep on her head. Giselle Renarde is author of Ondine (Hudson Audiobooks/eXcessica Publishing), Audrey & Lawrence (eXcessica Publishing), and more than twenty e-books including Red Satin and Waxing is for Pussies (Torquere Press), Cunning Little Vixens, The Birthday Gift, Kandinsky's Shirt Button(eXcessica), Beneath the Ice, Third Rail, Leslie Goosemoon Rides Again (loveyoudivine), and The Little Burlesque House by the Sea (Shadowfire Press). Ms Renarde is a short story contributor to more than thirty anthologies including Love Bites and Bite Me (BBA/Torquere Press), Like Twin Stars (Circlet Press), Girls on Top and Tasting Her (Cleis Press), Ultimate Lesbian Erotica 2009 and Best Lesbian Love Stories 2009 (alyson books), as well as Mammoth Book of Erotic Confessions (Constable & Robinson), Surprise (Rubicund Press), numerous Cocktales (Xcite) and Coming Together (Phaze) anthologies, and Best Women's Erotica 2011 and Best Lesbian Erotica 2011 (Cleis Press). Online, Giselle has contributed erotic content to such websites as For The Girls, Ruthie's Club, Three Pillows, Oysters & Chocolate, The Erotic Woman, Every Night Erotica, Frequently Felt, Whipped Cream, Long and Short Romance, Every Day Poets, Hips and Curves, and Lucrezia Magazine.

If you enjoyed STACY’S DAD HAS GOT IT GOING ON, you might also enjoy:

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THE BIRTHDAY GIFT By Giselle Renarde Meredith is a cake-baking, apron-wearing small-town Canadian mom. Her guiding principle in life is, “What would June Cleaver do?” That is, until a curious set of circumstances cause her to crash an outdoor gathering where she stumbles upon a pair of delicious hunks getting a little hands-on with each other. Surely June Cleaver would have headed for the hills at the sight! Not Meredith. This relaxed get-together really heats up when one man’s wife appears on the scene... and encourages Meredith to join in. Whew! Hot stuff! But the story’s not over yet. There’s still the tropical vacation, the confinement in foreign prison, the trial for freedom... and, hey, where’s Meredith’s husband in all this? It is his birthday, after all... Warnings: This title contains graphic language and sex. EXCERPT: Who would have guessed this kind of gathering was going on in sleepy Sheridan? Sheena came over and stood supportively in back of Meredith, hugging her from behind. The roundness of Sheena‟s body provided comfort. Those expert hands

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around her waist sent waves of warmth across her skin, making Meredith happy to be naked. Deep breaths. Sheena still smelled of roses, even after they were gone. “Close your eyes,” whispered the wise woman. “There is much you can learn.”

Sheena spoke slowly, allowing each word its worthy weight. “To serve those around you, you must first feel happy and fulfilled in yourself.” The warm breeze of Sheena‟s breath excited the sensitive hairs deep inside her ear canal. “When you are satisfied in life, when you are at peace, when you are fearless, other people want to be near you. You become a beacon.” The invisible hairs surrounding Meredith‟s mouth tickled as Sheena‟s fingertips brushed her lips. “When you defy your fears, that is when your family, your friends, even strangers respond to you with admiration.”

Fingertips wandered down her neck, along her chest, causing Meredith to release a pleasured oh. Her skin danced under that touch. “Your joy rubs off on those around you, and they become joyful also.”

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Taking in a sharp breath, Meredith nearly leapt out of her body when Sheena petted the golden hairs along her abdomen. One of those unexpected too-good sensations... “But it all starts with you, beautiful Meredith, golden woman, finding pleasure in life.” There was some version of heaven in Sheena‟s touch as her fingers brushed gently through the dark honey hair below her navel. Too gently. And too high. Oh, please, touch lower... “Now, think for a moment and tell me, what do you want right now?”

Unable to consider anything outside of this moment of pleasure, Meredith wanted nothing more than further gratification from Sheena‟s expert hands. Taking Sheena‟s hand in hers, she slipped those smallish fingers into her wet slit. Ohhhh... Pussy lips enveloped their new visitors, coating them in natural moisture. Clit awakened after its nap. “Don‟t stop touching me.” That‟s what Meredith wanted. “I will not stop,” Sheena replied, with a hot kiss to her shoulder and another to her neck. With small but firm fingers rubbing warm liquid against her tumescent clit, her knees weakened. “Oh, you are very wet, Meredith. Tell me about the film that is rolling behind your closed eyelids.”

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Blushing, she admitted to the erotic images captured on the film of her imagination. “I keep picturing Richard and Ash on the beach. Ash is on his knees, sucking on Richard‟s... you know, his thing...” Couldn‟t get the word out. Bashful girl, even after this day of naughtiness. “His cock?” The hard k sounds exploded in her ear as Sheena pressed a little harder against Meredith‟s clit. Mmm... Yes, this was what she wanted. “If you open your eyes, you‟ll see something even better,” Sheena encouraged.

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