“Don’t I wish.” He shook his head. “Those guys are really hard core, and they only take the very best. We didn’t have very many of them in Africa. Most of them are out on the new planets tossing the Posties off to make room for colonists.” He grinned faintly. “Sometimes ACS will take a new service academy graduate with a really good record, so I’ve still got a shot.” His eyes flickered down to her chest, occasionally, but overall he was fighting a valiant battle to keep them in the vicinity of her face, “So what about you, what do you do?”
“Nothing near as interesting as killing Posleen.” She grinned and held up a perfect hand, “I’m a manicurist. Nails and sympathy, that’s me.”
“And gossip?”
“Maybe just a teensy bit.” She laughed, wrinkling her nose at him.
“So… um… did you grow up in Charleston? I guess in the old days you could tell by the accent, but…”
“No, I grew up in the Cairo Urb. But I liked the sun,” she gestured to her tan and shrugged, “and I love the beach, so here I am.”
“Ah, a genuine beach bunny. Not many of those around anymore.” His hand was gentle as he took hers. “Just an old-fashioned girl, huh?”
“Well, a bit,” she admitted, squeezing his hand and licking her lips slightly. “Oh, hey, I love this song.”
He listened with her until the end of “The Holy Ground,” signaling the bartender for another beer.
“So, you like Irish music?” he asked.
“Yeah, some. I’m more a fan of prewar dance mixes. I’m not a sitting still type, you know?” She pulled a pack of Marlboros out of her purse and started to light one, but paused when he winced. “Oh, I’m sorry. Does the smoke bother you?” The bar was heavy with the usual cloud of tobacco smoke, so she raised an eyebrow at him curiously.
“Only that you’d do that to yourself. My Gran died last week. Lung cancer. She cut way back during and after the war, when tobacco was scarce, but I guess it wasn’t enough.” He frowned, “I’m sorry to be a downer, I just… it’s still fresh, I guess.”
“Well, it’s not like they’re addictive anymore, but I’m sorry I brought your mind back to sad stuff.” She shoved the pack back in her purse and laid a soft hand on his arm. “You know what you need? To get your mind right off it. Decos is just down the street.” She waved at the stage. “This stuff is too much when you’re already down. Dance it out of your system. That’s what I always do when it gets really bad. Let’s get out of here.”
“Sure.” He shook himself very slightly and nodded to his friends as they left.
Two hours later a light sheen of sweat dried on her skin in the salt air as she rode behind him on his bike to one of the hotels that catered to tourists from the heartland. When he pulled into the parking lot and stopped, she let go of his waist and climbed off slowly, reluctant to relinquish his warmth.
“This has got to be hell on your uniforms,” she said, gesturing at the bike.
“Well, yeah. I pretty much keep it garaged except on weekends. But yeah, I do go through uniforms a bit.” He sighed, “I really hate to ask but would you mind waiting with the bike while I get us a room? I don’t know if they’d be weird about it if you were with me.”
They couldn’t care less, but I don’t want to admit I know that. “Oh, sure. The moon’s nice tonight, and it’s warm. I’ll just watch it and enjoy the fresh air till you get back.”
“Um… be back in just a minute.” He straightened himself and walked towards the doors to the lobby with a slightly exaggerated assuredness.
They were within a couple of blocks of the Wall, and as she stood in the parking lot she could see it behind a couple of vacant lots and low businesses, cutting the skyline between apartment buildings. She supposed if she was home more she wouldn’t smell the salt as much, but tonight it was strong on the air and she watched the few stars visible through the haze above the still fronds of the palmettos.
When he walked back out with the key, she was leaning back against his bike with her eyes closed, face turned up to the sky.
“You’re not going to sleep on me, I hope,” he teased.
She shook her head and swallowed something, probably gum, because her mouth was fresh and sweet when he drew her up against him and kissed her, softly at first, but responding enthusiastically when she deepened the kiss.
“Um… let’s go inside,” he said when they came up for air, looking around the parking lot a trifle self-consciously before taking her hand and leading her up the stairs to the second-floor room.
Inside the door, she moved into his arms and slid her hands up his chest. He cupped her butt with one hand and tangled the other in that beautiful, silky blond hair. She was so slim it felt like he might break her if he hugged too hard.
She caught his jaw in her hands and kissed him hungrily as she backed towards the bed, playfully letting go and allowing herself to fall backwards with a big grin as soon as the backs of her legs met the edge.
“Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly…” She undid the top button of her pedal pushers and blew him a kiss.
He laughed and lay down beside her, playing with the cleft between her breasts made accessible by the vee of her blouse.
“Is that from something?” he asked, leaning down and kissed her temple. “Never mind.” He trailed his lips back down to her mouth to be devoured again.
She pulled back and caught his eyes as she pulled her shirt off and dropped it over the side of the bed, followed by her bra, then traced a finger down the front of his whites.
“Does that come off?” She licked her lips softly, tilting her head to the side and watching him watch her.
“Pamela, you’re beautiful. Here.” He unfastened his jacket, grimacing a little at the dingy grayish-white undershirt and suspenders underneath and getting them out of the way as fast as possible.
“Mmmm. Nice…” She pressed herself up against him and buried her face in his shoulder, inhaling deeply before planting a row of tasting kisses along his collarbone.
He groaned and pressed both hands flat against her back, burying his face in her hair and inhaling the clean freshness of it. “Pamela,” he breathed as he brought one hand around to cup her breast. He couldn’t resist kneading it, it was so warm, and soft, and round. Perfect. He suddenly needed to get their pants off and shuddered slightly. It would be so easy to go too fast. How could he not go too fast. She was silken and warm and fresh and moving against him and he suddenly needed her desperately.
“Shhh. Gently.” She broke the kiss and pushed him onto his back, softly. “Let me give you a treat.” She finished undressing them slowly and kept just a slight bit away from him, even when he would have held her again, so that by the time she climbed on top and let him enter her he was no longer afraid of embarrassing himself.
God, she had muscles in there he didn’t know women had, and it felt like heaven, but as he crested almost to the peak, he thought he’d die when she stilled for a moment and held his hands, smiling softly.
“Mmmm. Not yet. It gets better.” Then when his breathing slowed, she’d start to move again, just enough. Always just enough.
She teased him to the brink, again and again, with those diabolical muscles, always gently and tenderly backing off to let him calm down, always just enough that when she finally pulled him on top of her and gave him the control he was dying to take, they were both panting. She touched his face softly as she went over the brink and his world exploded in a mind-shattering orgasm that left him quiet and still in its wake. Her legs were still clasped behind his thighs and underneath him she was curled into his chest with a tight softness that seemed tinged faintly with desperation. He kissed her hair gently and rolled onto his back, trying to understand why he suddenly felt so sad.