John m. Ford - The Last Hot Time by John M. Ford

Author:John M. Ford [Ford, John M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780312875787
Amazon: 0312875789
Publisher: Tor Books
Published: 1999-12-31T07:00:00+00:00

"Tortilla."

"Good man." She leaned back, held very still as he tied her right wrist. He tried to hide the sudden heaviness of his breathing. He started to unfasten his shirt.

"Move back a little," she said softly, "let me see you."

He got undressed. He wasn't sure how; there was no sensation in his fingers, and she was watching the whole time. Then he crawled onto the bed and started on the pearl buttons. She moaned, and he was sure he must be crushing her. He shifted at once, but she just smiled, eyes closed.

He unfolded the gilt lace; she arched her back and he slipped it free, let it fall to the floor. There wasn't anything else in the way. In the lamplight she was all gold and darkness.

She tugged hard with her bound wrist. It was quite secure.

"See, Doe? You can't tear it, or stretch it. It's hard. It's got no mercy."

You're not at home anymore, he thought, what little of him could still think, nobody here cares. And he had to know. Maybe even for Ginny's sake. At least next time, he'd have some idea of how.

He moved, and groaned. Her left hand brushed him—he nearly screamed—and then practically pulled him in; after that, it actually started to seem easy, something you could do again, almost without effort.

Like going down the stairs into the darkened cellar, and wondering what it could have been that you had been so afraid of.

And then, in the middle of the night, waking with the fear fresh again, all around you.

Carmen looked asleep. Carefully, trying not to wake her, he unfastened the loop around her wrist. He stroked the silk: it was, indeed, undamaged.

She wrapped both arms around him. "Hello, Doctor Hallow-night."

"Are you okay?"

"Great. You wanna continue the therapy anyway?"

"I, uh—"

"Uh-huh. I'd better fly."

"What time is it?"

"Almost five. Same morning." She stood up, wound the black scarf around her throat, picked up her gold slip. "I should go. Really."

"Well, do you—shall I drive you?"

"No. Jesse'll get me a ride back. Or I might just walk." She began dressing. "Safest night of all for it: all the mortals are afraid of the haunts, and who fears the devil? Not I. Not I, says Carmen alone."

He sat up, pulling the sheet to cover himself. "Well, shall I at least—"

"Don't do anything," she said. "I want to remember you just like that."

"Will I see you again?"

She laughed. "You see me all the time; figure that'll change?"

"I mean—"

"I know what you mean. No, I don't think like this. Not for a while, anyway." Quickly, she said, "It wasn't anything you did, okay? You were fine. You were good. I'm just kind of... well. My birthday's in June. Maybe you can wrap me up a present. But I'll bet two silver Georges and a Trueblood's lock you're in love by then."

The same pain in her voice, still there as before. Nothing at all might have happened. "Maybe you '11 be in love by then."

"You're very kind, Doc." She came over, bent down and kissed him on the forehead.

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