“I am. And I must say I’m gaining some appreciation for sports—just because of the author.”
Now in his comfort zone, he told her about his love for “the game,” how his deep sense of failure after rejection by the pros made him persevere to write about sports as a way to stay in the arena, even if on the sidelines.
“Words can never replicate what it’s like on the court, but I was determined to make it work.”
“And you’ve truly succeeded. You have a special talent, Lou.”
They chatted, ate, and sipped wine, and when their plates were clear and the wine bottle empty, he stood up and nodded to the love seat across the room.
“Shall we?”
She nodded, smiling. But before she rose, he reached down and held her face in his hands and gently kissed her. When he pulled her up to him, she didn’t hold back. It was a timeless kiss, and her lips parted slightly as he skirted his tongue on her lower lip and suddenly found her tongue entwined in his.
In bed, she became another woman—unleashed, lust driven, aching to be sated. He was attentive and wanted to explore every part of her body. He kissed her neck and breasts, brushing her nipples, sucking them longingly, playfully teasing her. Soon she was begging to have him in her, but he resisted and pleasured her with his fingers. Her mouth found his hard shaft and he fell back in ecstasy, trying not to lose control, until he took her head in his hands and pulled her up to him, looking deeply into her wild, dark eyes. They couldn’t get enough of each other, and they both rode wave after wave of pleasure.
Their afterglow was luxurious. They folded into each other, cuddled, dozed, he rolled over, kissing her ears before tumbling back into a light sleep. He awoke again to feel her touch him lightly, building to arousal. They made love again, just as the sun was rising.
“You are wonderful,” he said dreamily.
“As are you, Mr. Padera. I think I lost a few inhibitions since dinner. Do you have this affect on all of your women?”
“Oh yeah, all of my women. They’re standing in line….”
She lay on her stomach, languid. His fingers traced down her spine to her soft, full buttocks.
“Diana?”
“Yes?”
“Ever do a threesome?”
“A what? Oh—you mean with a guy and another woman?”
“Yeah. Or two guys. You know. A group sex thing—a ménage à trois.”
“Uh-uh. No. I’ve never done that. Why? Is that something you like?”
“I think I’d like it. Yes.”
She turned over on her back. “But have you actually done it? With two women? Or…”
“No. I haven’t, but—look, I’m just mentioning it. You never know what turns people on.”
“Does group sex turn you on?”
“The idea does. Sure. Why not?”
She sat up and pulled the sheet up around her.
“Every man’s dream—to have two women at his beck and call.”
The afterglow bubble had burst, and she wasn’t ready to hear his fantasies. She needed to know what was going on.
“Tell me now if I’m not enough for you sexually, if this was a one-night stand.”
He sat up, moved behind her, and cradled her between his legs. He whispered to her, his breath warm on the back of her neck.
“You are very special to me, Diana. You truly are. I would never force you to do something you’re not comfortable with. Now and then I think about having some different and fun sexual encounters, that’s all.”
“Sexual encounters? I’m not sure I want to hear this.”
“Okay. I won’t talk about it. Right now, you’re plenty of woman for me, and you’re all I want. That’s the truth.”
Right now?
She felt his warm body line her back. Slowly she tried to relax into him. She would want more of his passionate lovemaking, and he certainly knew how to please her. And if he turned out to be kinky? She’d take the good with the bad. For now.
Chapter 17
It always starts the same way: clear sky, a crisp breeze, children playing on the school playground. Suddenly Jen hears a deafening siren, cars screech into the parking lot, people are screaming, children crying. Jen runs into the two-story school building to find Ricky, but all the classrooms are empty. Panicked mothers are stampeding down halls, into the gym, the cafeteria—shoving, pushing—desperate to find their kids.
Where is he?
A gush of wind moves the empty swings in the playground. A distorted voice, like a muffled trombone blasts out over the loudspeaker. She can’t quite understand the words, but somehow she knows what the voice is saying.
The kids are someplace else. Some kind of center. Suddenly Jen is in her car, but traffic is at a complete standstill. Some drivers honk while others have abandoned their cars altogether. Jen is trapped. She turns off the car. Her cell phone doesn’t work, and even if it did, who would she call?
Then she sees Ricky far away, sitting on the floor of a long hallway crowded with children. He looks terrified. At the end of the hall there is a piercing sound of hissing steam coming from an ice-blue room of high-pressure showers. The room where Ricky is being led. Jen can see faceless workers dressed in white Hazmat suits, breathing through respirators, quickly undressing the children. Clothes are yanked off and flung into large metal containers. To be sterilized, then burned?
It’s Ricky’s turn, and he struggles to stay dressed. Jen can’t get to him and yells, “Don’t let them do it! I’ll be right there!” He doesn’t hear her as she wades waist deep through children to get to him. She passes a little girl crushed near the wall, burying her head. Oh my God—it’s Kaylee! She tries to call to the girl, hoping she will raise her head and recognize her mommy. “Kaylee? It’s me, Sweetie. Look up, its Mommy!” But the girl doesn’t hear her. She keeps trying to get Kaylee’s attention, but she knows at the same time Ricky is now naked from the waist up. He is losing his battle to the ghostly Hazmat people. I have to get to him… why the hell am I so far away?
And then it comes, the creeping, dull awareness. A small voice, her own voice, straining to tell her it’s a bad dream. She should wake up. Now.
She tries to jump out of her skin, to break free of the nightmare, but it’s like pushing against a tsunami. Losing, always losing. She tries to pinch her limbs out of numbness.
She jerks awake, gasping, her pajamas soaked. She tumbles out of bed and quickly patters across the hall into Ricky’s bedroom. His thin frame is haphazard across the bed, his breathing light but steady. Jen collapses on the floor and cries softly.
Chapter 18
As soon as he punched his time card, Larry Hines knew something was wrong. He had some sort of paranormal radar for trouble that came in loud and clear.
Larry was working the late shift until midnight. He made a beeline to the control room, and through the glass window he could see large red electronic letters flashing CODE RED. He poked his head in.
“What’s going on? Why Code Red?”
All five men kept their eyes glued to the monitors.
“Leak. Bad one this time,” one man rasped out. “A pipe in the containment dome ruptured. It’s a mess. We’re trying to head off a massive radioactive plume from getting airborne.”
For the first time in a year, Larry entered the control room. The men knew what he was thinking: Lucky this didn’t happen on my watch.
Larry, on the other hand, knew an accident of this magnitude would never have happened on his watch.
On the video screen it looked like a full-blown hurricane inside the containment dome. Water jettisoned out of the split pipe like a high velocity fire hose gone wild. Paint and insulation from the dome’s interior was peeling off and plummeting down in large clumps near the reactor; the debris was clogging the pumps that supply coolant water to the overheated reactor core.