"It's good practice," Annie said from the motel bathtub, "but it'll never replace sex."
Eric said nothing. He was stretched out next to the tub doing push-ups.
"How many's that?" she asked. "I've made a resolution not to count anything higher than my age."
"Eighty-two… eighty-three… eighty-four…"
"Hurry up, Eric," she said, trying to keep the concern out of her voice. Trying to keep it light, not let the fear in. "The water's getting cold."
"Run some hot," he grunted without stopping.
"I can't. I've got the temperature scientifically balanced for both our tastes. Hot enough so I can relax, yet cool enough so you don't burn your cute little buns. Besides, there're already more bubbles in here than there is water." She scooped up a palmful of fluffy white bubbles and blew them at him. They fluttered about him like thick snowflakes, but he didn't slow his pace.
"Almost done," he said, rhythmically snapping his body up and down.
Annie frowned, watched the thick, blue vein pulse across his temple before disappearing under the Band-Aid over the deep gash he'd received in the explosion. His face was red from the exertion, except for the scar. It remained white, oddly calm and untouched by the rest of his body, a line of icy water finally gathering into the strange frost pattern on his cheek. Like a frozen lake. Even after ten years she sometimes found the scar a little unnerving. As if it were a stranger, a distant relative uninvited into their home who wouldn't leave.
Lately she'd been feeling the same about Eric. Since the trial, and especially since the death of Luther Nichols, Eric had changed. Not drastically, not horribly. He was still a loving husband and a caring father. But he was also endlessly exercising, training, running. Every time he had a few extra minutes he'd drop to the floor and do a hundred push-ups. He was spending most afternoons lifting weights or sparring in a downtown gym. It was getting harder and harder to tease him out of his black moods.
"Fine. Here we are, a man and woman, alone in a motel, and not even any heavy breathing. Well, if you're not going to climb in here and molest me, I'll just eat until I get fat and there's no room in here for you." She reached over to the open box balanced on the toilet seat and grabbed another slice of Fast Eddie's deluxe pizza. It was already cold, the cheese having taken on a shiny, plastic look. But Annie took a big bite anyway. A slice of pepperoni dropped into the tub. She groped around under the bubbles for it, finally fishing it out between thumb and forefinger and tossing it over the side with a loud "Yeechh!" It flipped through the air and landed with a wet splat on Eric's back.
"Ooops," she giggled, then started laughing her loud whooping crane laugh, rocking so much that she dropped the rest of her slice of pizza into the tub.
Eric shook his head. "I see you've found a new way to reheat pizza."
"S-s-sorry," she laughed, her head thrown back in spasms of laughter.
Eric stood up, let the wet pepperoni roll off his back. Seconds before he'd been lost in a grim, violent vision of Dirk Fallows. Now he was smiling, chuckling. Annie had a way of doing that to him, reaching down to the bottom of some dark, cold ocean floor and yanking him to the surface where he could breathe fresh air. And laugh.
Quickly he stepped out of his underpants and into the tub, easing himself slowly into what felt to him like boiling water. To Annie it was probably lukewarm.
"Don't worry about finding that slice of pizza," he said. "I'm sitting on it." He reached into the water and pulled the soggy pizza out, tossing it across the bathroom into the sink.
"Good. That's your piece then. I get the last one."
"Like hell!"
They both lunged for the last piece of pizza, splashing water and suds over the side of the tub. Annie reached it first, but Eric wrapped his hand around hers and squeezed until it oozed between her fingers.
"Owww," she whined, but she was laughing too hard to be taken seriously.
They quickly washed each other off, scrubbing the pizza scraps from their bodies, lingering gently here and there.
"Und now for za last part of your training," she said, kicking a blob of bubbles into his face, then hopping out of the tub. She ran into the bedroom, trailing puddles of water and suds behind her.
"You've had it now, lady. It's all over but the begging."
"Begging?" she laughed from the other room. "For what?"
"For my essence. My manhood. My throbbing member."
Her laughs came in loud whoops. "Oh, you mean your love rod."
"My passion pole."
"Your sex pistol."
Eric rinsed the last of the pizza off his hand and sprang out of the tub and into the bedroom. Annie was lying naked on top of the bed, her wet skin glistening sensuously in the room's dim light. As always, Eric hesitated, let his eyes linger on her body, surprised and delighted to find her still so sexy after all these years. The breasts round and firm, yet yielding to the touch. The nipples, easily excited, were already hard and pointing. The slim waist sloping down from narrow ribs and sweeping up over sharp protruding hip bones. The stomach flat and smooth as an ocean beach, dark skinned from some tropical ancestor no one in the family remembered. The legs were long and shapely, hard with muscles and determination. Nothing on her body jiggled, it had all been trained into compact submission from years of ballet as a child, years of jazzercise and weight training as an adult. She'd followed Jane Fonda's Workout Book until she looked better than Jane Fonda.
She pulled the pencil out of the bun of her hair and let the long black tresses cascade over her shoulders. Her hair was thick and luxurious, hanging past her waist, shimmering as she tucked it behind one ear. He loved her hair, its richness and length somehow so primeval, prehistoric. And she was proud of it too, knew its effect on men. She held a lock in one hand, teasingly brushed her nipples with the ends. Then she glanced over at Eric's crotch and smiled wickedly. "Hey, I know I'm cute, but no need to salute."
He looked down at himself, grinned, and walked slowly toward her. "You'd better behave or I'll withhold my services."
"Ha. You couldn't if you wanted. Once it's awakened, it can't rest until it's been satisfied. Like some kind of science fiction monster. The Beast With No Conscience."
He slid into the bed next to her, wrapped his arm around her waist, his hand clasping her smooth round buttocks. She snuggled closer, clamping her legs around his thigh. He felt her thick pubic hairs scuffing his skin. They kissed, long and deeply, tongues playing tag. He pictured them on a beach somewhere, a Caribbean island. A warm breeze skipping off the ocean and covering them, a dying sun glowing red as it's pulled into the ocean. A safe place.
Annie eased him onto his back, straddled his waist with her back to him, and hunched over his thick penis. She took it into her mouth slowly, letting the edges of her teeth gently scrape the sensitive skin. She felt him shiver with pleasure. Her movements were slow and easy, lazy really. For awhile. Then she was moving faster, sucking harder, one hand holding his penis, the other gently squeezing his balls.
Eric sighed with pleasure as he felt her warm mouth sliding up and down. But he wanted more. "Come here." he whispered.
She rolled off him and he laid her onto her back, his hand sledding over her hip, down her thigh, between her legs. He raked his fingers through her soft pubic hairs, dipping one finger into the sticky warmth of her vagina. The tender folds of skin gave way to the insistence of his finger as he stroked and probed, slowly rubbing and encouraging. Annie's hips began to rotate, her legs opening and closing with a desperate rhythm. Her pink tongue poked out between her clenched teeth and her head arched backwards.
"Eric," she sobbed. "Please, more."
Eric felt the hard, rubbery clitoris straining against his finger as he stroked it gently at first, then a little rougher. Annie gasped, pressed herself harder against his hand. He could see the drops of moisture in her pubic hairs sparkling, the thin film of sweat shimmering along her stomach and thighs. He smelled the deep, rich scent that was hers alone, like a rose garden after a heavy rain.
"I want you, sweetheart," she said. "Now. Inside me."
Eric withdrew his hand and climbed between her legs. She brought her knees up so she could spread them farther apart. Then she reached down under her leg and wrapped her hand around his penis, guiding it quickly into her body. There was no need or desire for gentleness now. They both moved with quick powerful motions, their hips slapping together, bouncing on the bed.
"Jesus," she panted. "Come, baby, come inside me."
Eric felt Annie beginning to shiver. She was moaning loudly in short gasping breaths, her fingernails biting into Eric's back. She was slamming her hips against him with a fierce rhythm.
"Now!" she pleaded. "Jesus, now."
And Eric matched her rhythm until they were locked into a thrashing frenzy. Her arms and legs were wrapped so tightly around him he couldn't tell their movements apart. He could feel himself rushing toward the cliff, peeking over the edge, then falling.
"Yes! Please, God, yes," Annie cried and her body trembled in uncontrollable spasms of pleasure as they both climaxed together.
Afterwards, both remained entwined with the other, softly nibbling on each other's sweaty neck and ears.
Suddenly Eric bolted up. "Did you hear that?"
"Hear wha-?"
And a faint rumbling sound echoed like a distant thunder. The bed began to vibrate slightly, a framed dance poster on the wall tilted to the left. Then it was over.
"Earthquake," Eric said.
Annie giggled. "I knew we could make the earth move if we tried."
He smiled, leaned back to kiss her, brushing her hair away from her face. When they finished she gave him a playful shove. "Better not start something again. I don't think the San Andreas Fault can bear the strain of our lovemaking."
"It'll have to," he said, reaching an arm around her.
"Okay, but first I want to talk. Seriously."
He sighed. "Yes, I'll respect you in the morning. Sure, I'll do the right thing if you get pregnant. No, I won't tell the guys in the locker room what an easy lay you were."
"Serious, Eric."
He sat up. "Okay, serious."
She took a deep breath. "I know you don't want to hear this, but I think it's time we moved back home."
"But-"
"Let me finish, then you can talk."
Eric fell silent.
"During the trial, I thought it was a good idea for the kids and me to be out of the way, if for no other reason than to put your mind at rest. So I didn't complain when you sent us to stay with Big Bill Tenderwolf. Hell, I love Big Bill and so do the kids. Besides, Timmy found one of the Hopi kids who can give him a real run at chess." She saw the look in his eyes and laid her hand on his thigh to keep him from withdrawing. "Even after the trial, when Luther was killed and the Sempleton kid turned up missing, I agreed to stay on there a few more weeks. But it's been a month now, Eric, and I'm ready to come home. I don't want us to only meet on weekends in motels like this, eating out of cardboard boxes and humping on strange beds. It's got to end sometime, and now is as good a time as any."
"You done?"
"I don't know. I reserve the right to cross-examine."
Eric shook his head. "I don't like it any better than you do. I've missed you and the kids more than I've ever missed anything in my life. But I know Fallows is out there. I know he's going to make his move eventually. And I know that this time he'll come in person."
"I know that too, sweetheart. I don't want to take any unnecessary chances, especially where the kids are concerned. But what are our choices? We either decide to live like a family or we don't. That means we either change our names and move away, or we go back to our old lives. I'll do either, but I won't keep up this separation. I know what you're trying to do. Use yourself as a target, hoping to draw him out in the open. Well, he hasn't done anything in a month, and he can afford to wait another month, a year if he has to. He's the kind of man who'd drag it out just to watch you suffer. You know that better than anyone."
Eric nodded. "I know."
"But we can't let him tear us apart first. We're either a family or we're not. I have my law studies to continue, the kids have school, and you have a teaching job. We'll take precautions. Install alarms. Buy a gun. A dozen guns. I'll take the kids to school every day and you pick them up. But we'll work it out."
Eric stared at her for a long time. He thought back to that night when the Sempleton kid had broken in. What if he hadn't awakened, hadn't heard him? What if he had failed to stop him? He saw Annie lying on their bed, twisted and bleeding, her body a chewed and bleeding rag. And the children.
But he knew she was right, too. That Fallows could wait, would wait. He'd always been a patient man. Eric had already considered changing identities, moving them to a forgotten rural place. But he knew it wouldn't work. Fallows would find them. He had the brains, the resources.
"Okay," Eric said. "We'll move back into the house, but there will be some changes."
She threw her arms around him and hugged tight. "I don't care about changes. As long as we're all together again. Hell, there ought to be something fashionable in bulletproof vests I can wear. Something in a shortie nightgown perhaps."
He smiled weakly as he hugged her, sensing that it was a mistake. But realizing there was no other choice if he wanted to keep Annie and the kids. Perhaps he should move away by himself. Leave Annie and the kids. Go into hiding. He'd considered this alternative for weeks, exploring the possibilities like one probes an open wound. But he couldn't do it. He knew Fallows would go after them anyway just to punish Eric. At least if he stayed he could try to protect them.
"Don't worry, sweetheart," Annie said, burying her face in his chest. "We'll make it work. We can-"
The rumbling was louder this time, like a tractor driving through the door. The whole room shook, the bed shuddering at first, then inching across the floor, finally sliding toward the middle of the room. The dusty paintings on the wall clattered a moment before falling to the floor. The telephone pitched off the bedside table and clanged onto the floor. The lamp tumbled off next, but didn't break. Instead the lightbulb flickered then went black.
Outside, loud crashing could be heard. And screaming.