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I lay on my back on my couch, staring at the ceiling. It was an old, run-down couch in a color somewhere between shit and coffee. Which also described my thoughts at the moment. I looked over toward my bedroom door, which lay half-open. I could see about half of the American Graffiti poster on my sea-green wall, and the edge of the entertainment center that contained my TV and various devices. Shoved in the bottom of my view was my empty bed. I shifted my arms so that they were behind my pillow, between it and the couch's old material. It was too hot for my blanket, so I had kicked it down to the other end of the couch. There's a fairly obvious reason for all of this. One that at that point in time I was trying to forget by sleeping on the couch instead of the bed I'd shared with her. Damn it.

For the sake of the story, I'll just tell you that it didn't go well. We'd been together for two years, and it was all chocolate hearts and romance up until the end. It wasn't cheating, or one of us moving away, or anything exciting like that. We just... fell out of love. Almost the same way we'd fallen in. The feelings just kinda faded away. And that was what made it so terrible. Apparently we'd both carried the same burden. Feeling less and less like lovers and more and more like friends, but not wanting to tell the other about it for fear of their feelings. Eventually we both just came out and said it. And you'd think that would have been the end of all the bad feelings, but in reality it stayed the same. I didn't show it, but for me it got worse. And I think it did for her too.

I caught myself thinking about it again and turned on my side, facing the tiny living room. Crappy red carpeting, one comfy chair, and a coffee table. No TV; Sally and I kept our own in our rooms. We were at opposite ends of the apartment. I was facing the small hall that led to my room from the couch, and her room was in the direction of my feet, across the living room that functioned as a hall to the kitchen, her room, and the front door. She'd come out earlier to wake me up when she went to work, because she'd decided that the best strategy was to verbally kick my ass until I let go of the whole thing. Sally (she preferred that I call her Sal, but I added the 'ly' just to tease her) was a lesbian, which was probably the only thing that allowed us to share an apartment. Her words of inspiration today were “For fuck's sake GO GET LAID.”

I hadn't slept at all since Sally had woken me up. I wasn't going to get back to sleep thinking about this, and I didn't want to think about any dreams I might have with this on my mind anyhow. With a grunt of effort, I stood up and walked across the room into the kitchen. Over the past month or so I had taken to sleeping on the couch, so I was just in my boxers. I opened the fridge and grabbed a glass, pouring myself some orange juice. Best way to the start the day. Although my day was starting at about noon. Afterward I showered, dressed, and cooked up grilled ham and cheese for lunch. Then I lay back on my couch, wondering what to do. Sometimes boredom feels like a lead blanket. Can't see anything interesting, and can't find the inspiration to get up and look for it, like there's something physically obscuring your vision and weighing you down. I started thinking about going out, doing something. Maybe do the grocery shopping for Sally today so she'd get off my back. But I knew she'd taken the list with her to work, so I let the notion go.

I thought about books. Reading was a pretty non-demanding activity. I thought back to the layout of my room, not really willing to go in. Was there a half-finished book lying around? I thought hard. No, I'd finished Stephen King's Christine the other night. Damn. I liked to read, but only recently had I really gotten into it. Subconscious therapy, perhaps. As I thought this to myself, I heard my cellphone chirp. I picked it up from the floor in front of the couch and answered. “Hello?” “Yo” came the voice. It was my friend Jamie. She was the only person I knew that still actively said 'yo.' It was one of those cool little tidbits about her. “Hey. What's up?” I replied. I admit that I got a little excited. A nice chat with someone would be a nice distraction from my boredom, even if it was Jamie. Not that I didn't like her, we just didn't have a lot in common to talk about. But the fact that she started the conversation piqued my interest. “Not much. How about you?” she asked. “I'm bored” I said. “Same here” she responded. “Oh?” I asked.

Jamie had a lot going on in her life. She wasn't a busybody, but I rarely spoke to her when she wasn't in the middle of something. “Yeah. I was wondering about that... book store you mentioned before?” “The Shelf?” I asked. I recalled telling her about the little place that was just a little ways up the street. One of the few things we have in common are books. “Yeah, that one. Ron's fixing my laptop... so I can't google it. Do you have the... address?” I picked up my wallet from the end-table next to the couch, and pulled out a slim piece of paper that functioned as my address book. “Yeah. 4023 Trainway Avenue.” “Thanks,” she said. By this point I had noticed something: Jamie was panting. “What's going on over there?” I asked. In the few short seconds it took her to reply, I can honestly admit at least seven dirty things shot through my mind. Jamie was as much a horndog as any guy I knew. “I'm on my bike... doing my daily block.” “Oh, okay” I said, somewhat relieved. “Hey, you said you were bored” she said. “Want to meet up there?” “Sure, I was actually just thinking about it. Meet you there in like 15?” I offered. “Make it 20. I'm on the... other side of the block.” “Alright, 20 it is. Seeya” I said. “Seeya” she replied.

I shut off my phone feeling quite refreshed. A little social interaction was just what I needed. I kicked off the boredom blanket and headed for the bathroom, which was in the little hallway next to my room. I'd showered and brushed up when Sally woke me up, just for something to do, but I threw some Listerine in, just in case. Didn't taste terribly good following the orange juice, but I certainly felt cleaner. I stepped through my door and pulled out a fresh set of clothes before heading back out to the couch. I grabbed my keys from the endtable, locked the door, and headed downstairs to my little tan pickup. I had just enough time to get there before her. I checked myself in the mirror. Deep green eyes: check. Jet-black hair combed back: check. I drove down the road toward The Shelf.

It wasn't too far away, only about eight miles up the road, but it was only four miles from her place. She'd said twenty minutes, because she was riding her bike. I knew she was a bit of a cyclist, trying to lose weight, so I aimed to get there five minutes early. Mustn't keep a lady waiting. I pulled into the little strip mall parking lot and walked up to The Shelf, leaning against the column in front of the shop, facing the window. It was a pretty small place between a diner and a math tutor. I'd discovered it while driving around town when I'd moved here for school, and I'd been going there ever since. I'd bought Stephen King's Christine and From a Buick 8 from here before, as well as a few sci-fi novels.

“Knock knock” I heard, and felt. I saw Jamie in the reflection of the window, knocking on the side of my head. I smiled and turned, greeted by her knuckles still knocking against my forehead. I grinned and pushed them away to see her face. “Hey!” she said, with her usual calm smile. “Hi” I replied. She was a girl of medium height, only a few inches shorter than me at 5'9”. She had long dark brown hair that fell down to her chest, which was now heaving due to her panting. As a guy, I really couldn't help but notice. I imagined she was wearing a sports bra, since she'd been on this weight-loss kick, and because she looked a little less... rounded than usual. She was wearing a tight black button-up t-shirt, dark skinny-jeans, and a pair of blue Crocs; those silly rubber sandal/sneaker hybrids. But Jamie had two specific things about her that made her stand out. The first was her body. And by that I mean her features. And by that I mean her skin and eyes. Her eyes were almond-colored and shaped, almost Asian, with almost perfect half-circle eyebrows. But her skin was a Spanish-type tan. At least, it would be. She was a sort of pale that implied she was naturally darker, like mixing cinnamon with Cool Whip. A combination which, I couldn't help but notice, tasted pretty good.

She lifted her bicycle off of the parking lot tarmac and laid it against the inside of the next column over. As she leaned over to lock her bike up, I couldn't help getting a view of her backside. I'm not much for that sort of thing, but she filled out those jeans very well. “You look good” I said. Half trying to get rid of the thoughts making my pants tight, the other half honestly trying to be nice. “Thanks. I've been losing weight like crazy since I started this whole regimen deal-eo.” I honestly never thought Jamie needed to lose weight. She seemed normal for a twenty-year old. But then I remembered that she usually wore loose clothes, like sweaters and button-up jackets. That, and I hadn't seen her naked, so I really couldn't know. Although, the tighter clothes she was wearing today made me wonder. I mentally smacked myself as she stood back up and headed for the door.

I opened the door for her and followed her inside, past the small check-out desk just to the left of the door. Christian, the guy who ran the place, must have been in the back somewhere. It was a nice place; wooden shelved stacked to the ceiling with paperbacks of every kind, and a few hardcovers. Modest blue carpeting, a speaker somewhere at the back wall playing lounge music. It was only a used book store, but they had quite a collection. Modern dime novels to classic 1st editions.

I directed Jamie to the immediate right. Three shelves against the wall in a circle, with a table in the middle. “These are the newest additions,” I indicated the shelves, “and this is the bargain box.” I rested my hand on the small square table. She stepped on over next to me and started scanning the shelves. As she did so, I noticed that she began to twirl her hair between her fingertips. It was a very casual sort of motion, but one that seemed to fit her. Unfortunately, it had also fit Marie pretty well, too. I flinched and moved around a bit, looking at the other books.

She bent down to retrieve a book from the bottom shelf, regaining my attention. “Find something?” I asked. “This is still on the 'new' rack?” she asked, holding up a copy of the last “Harry Potter” book. “Yeah, this is a used bookstore. 2007 may as well be yesterday” I said, followed by “Haha. You said 'rack.'” Her smile mirrored mine as she whacked the spine of the book against the top of my head. “Maka-Chop!” she said in a mock-Japanese accent. I rubbed the top of my head at the reference to one of our favorite anime series, “Soul Eater.” The main character, Maka, uses a book in the same fashion when her partner Soul says perverted things. I rubbed my head, knowing it was totally worth it, before speaking again. “Not a lot of great variety to the new books, but if you're looking for something to pass the time, the bargain bin be-ith your best bet” I spake Shakespeare-ially, to recover from my immature, perverted fumble.

“Why thank you, good sir” she replied in the same faux-Victorian style before thumbing through the bargain bin. We stood at opposite ends of the rectangular isle, being as the books were all laid length-wise on their pages, so you could see the titles on the spines. I looked through them myself for a few moments, spotting a few new titles. After a moment in silence, she picked one out and raised it to her face for inspection. “Wow... really?” she said, underwhelmed yet surprised. “What?” I asked. She came over beside me and showed me the cover of the book. Splayed across the top in a sickly brown color was Goosebumps. The cover art showed a murderous-looking pink rabbit popping out of a magician's top hat. The white lettering at the bottom revealed the title to be Bad Hare Day. “Oh, God” I said in the same fashion she had. “I know, right? Fucking Goosebumps, man. I haven't seen one of these in for-ev-er” she said. “I used to read those” I admitted, slightly embarrassed. “Kinda got me into horror, I guess.” “Yeah, I used to watch the tv show when it was on. LONG time ago.” She reached over and placed the embodiment of cheesy horror back into the fray of books, giving me a brief scent from her hair. She smelled like berries.

“Do they have recognizable books here?” she asked, tearing my focus away from the scent of berries. “Yeah. Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Lord of the Flies, Jurassic Park. All kinds of stuff. Here.” I stepped around her and led her back to the check-out desk, and turned right. The space was pretty tight in the Shelf. Beyond the bargain section were the rows of shelves stuffed with books. She immediately began scanning. “Looking for anything specific?” I asked. The question seemed to stun her, because she stopped mid-step and growled to herself, before speaking angrily. “Oh! There was one author I was planning on checking out! Who was it?! Ugh, he's really famous! Stan... something? Damn!” She turned back around toward me and slumped against a shelf. “I can't remember” she declared with a fake sad-face, defeated. I laughed and replied “It may look small, but this place has variety. You'll find whoever it was.” “Yeah, probably” she said, turning back around and continuing down the aisle. I walked beside her, checking out the shelves myself.

After a few moments of silence, I decided to start up a conversation. “So how's the regiment going?” “It's going pretty good. Might start doing five miles every other day, too.” “Cool” I replied. I had a thought and, since we weren't exactly focusing on each other, I voiced it. “I honestly never thought you needed to lose weight.” “Aw, thanks” she replied. “But really, it's only half for the exercise. I just like being able to clear my head every so often.” Anything in particular that needs to be cleaned out?” I asked. “Oh, you know. Just stuff.” She sighed as she spoke, like she was holding back something that was really bothering her.

But at that moment, I saw movement at the end of the aisle and looked over. “He-hey!” hailed Christian, the owner. He was a cool sort of guy. He could have passed for Michael Clark Duncan's stunt double, except for his circle-frame glasses, short hair and beard, and had an accent that was pure Georgia. He smiled and held out his hand to me for a shake. “My man, what's happenin'!” I shook his hand and smiled back. “Not much. How's business?” “Oh, same as ever. Glad I got this spot cheap. Haha.” “Are we the only customers today?” “Nah, a few little old ladies were in about an hour ago.” “Cool” I said. “And speaking of customers, who's this lovely lady you brought in with you?” He released my hand and looked over to Jamie, who seemed delighted. “I'm Jamie.” “Nice to meet you, Jamie” he said, flaring his hand and bowing. “Hey” I asked “you got any newer Stephen King books since the last time I was here?” He put a hand to his chin in thought, and replied. “I believe those little old ladies brought in a few. It wasn't real busy, so I just put 'em on the shelf. You know where it is. I've got to get back to stocking.” Once again, he flared his hand and bowed. “Jamie, hope to see you again soon.” With that, he disappeared toward the back of the store.

“Stephen King!” Jamie exclaimed out of nowhere. “That was his name.” “The author you were looking for?” I asked. “Yeah. I'd always been meaning to start on his stuff, but never got around to it. I'm finally caught up with everything else, so I thought I'd start while I had the chance.” “Well follow me. I know exactly where he is.” “Lead the way then. Yah!” I felt her hand lightly slap my butt, and gave her a deadpan look back. She stuck her tongue out at me playfully, and I led the way through the shelves.

After a moment, we stood before Stephen King's section. There were at least thirty books; mostly multiple copies of the same eight, but I noticed the newer ones that had just been added. “Sweet! Pet Sematary. I've been looking for this one.” She came to stand beside me in order to get a look at the book. It was a decent hardcover. Just looked a bit worn. “Is it good?” she asked. “Well, just about all of King's stories are good. I just liked the movie, so I thought I'd get the book.” “Okay.” Jamie nodded her head acceptingly, like a student learning from a teacher. It put a bit of a spring in my step. “I've got a pair of books at home that I've already read through, if you want to try them out first. Then if you decide you like his style, you can take your pick.” “Sweet” she said. “Wanna go now?” “Sure,” I replied. “We can put your bike in the truck.” I followed her back to the end of the aisle, and with a smile, had to guide her back to the front desk, Pet Sematary in-hand. I handed it to her, along with a ten from my wallet, and rang the little bell on Christian's desk. “Can you pay for this for me? I'll stick your bike in the truck.” She gave me a thumbs-up and a smile, and I headed outside.

Jamie's bike was pretty light, so I had no trouble putting it in the truck. And in no time, she walked out of the Shelf. “He's a really cool guy” she said. “Yeah, Christian's great.” I opened the passenger door for her and bowed with a flair, like Christian had. She climbed in and I shut the door for you. “Christian's great. You? You're weird.” I chuckled a bit and walked around the truck, seeing her smile as I slipped into the driver's seat. It struck me as I started up the engine that, for the first time in a while, I was actually having a good time. But my happiness was a bit soured, thinking back on how long I'd been depressed, and knowing that I still was, really. When I pulled out of the parking lot, we were both back in a 'neutral' mood.

“So, how's life?” I asked, realizing we really hadn't talked a lot about ourselves. “I haven't seen you in a while.” Jamie exhaled through her closed lips before answering, as if she were judging what to say. “Life's... complicated. As always. Bills, signing up for classes. My cat scratched up my desktop's mouse, so I need to get a new one. And between work and school, there's just not enough hours in the day for everything I want to do.” “Is Rob on that list?” I asked, hoping to brighten her mood a little. She laughed, but it was one of those short, 'hmhm' laughs. “No. Rob and I broke up a few weeks ago.” “Aw, I'm sorry. I thought you guys were working out.” She sighed again. “Yeah. We just sorta, fell out of love, I guess.” My heart beat a little bit harder against my chest, making me twitch in remembrance, and I gave her a quick glance. “I know what you mean.”

We had made it into my driveway before I could think of anything else to say. It was a short drive, but the silence seemed to stretch it out. I turned the ignition off and we both stepped out of ths truck, heading to the doorway. As I stuck my key into the lock, I said: “It really sucks. Having to walk away from something like that. In that way.” “Yeah” she replied, the excitement of King's books gone from her voice. I held the door open for her and led her into my room, where my bookshelf sat in a corner. She continued, still sounding downtrodden. “It's just really weird, and really wrong. I mean, we were good for each other. We just... fit.” I heard my bed squeak as she sat down on it and sighed myself. I knew the feelings very well. I pulled From a Buick 8 from my shelf, then thought about it, and pulled Christine as well. One was more of a mystery, the other straight-up horror. I didn't know which she'd prefer and, honestly, I wanted to keep talking about this. Like a little release valve had been opened up.

I sat down on the bed, setting the books beside me. Jamie's eyes were far away, and sad. “Yeah. You think about it, and you realize that the feelings are gone. But you don't really want to admit it, to yourself or your partner, because there's no other reason to end it.” She nodded slowly in agreement, still looking far away. “And then you start thinking: 'if you're feeling so bad over it, does that mean the feelings are still there?'” I chimed in with her. “And then by the end, you just feel...” “Empty” we both said at once after a short pause. She looked up at me, and I looked at her. The fact that I knew what she was feeling evident in her eyes and her minimal expression. It seemed to comfort her. And it comforted me, too. I almost smiled. Almost. But I was transfixed in her eyes. Her almond eyes. Her cinnamon-Cool Whip-colored skin.

Before I knew it, we were kissing. Trading warm breath between hot lips. My eyes were closed, but I didn't need to see her. I could feel her. I felt her hands on my shoulders, and raised my own up to feel her cheeks. As I touched her silky smooth skin, my conscious mind reasserted itself through the sadness we seemed to share. “Jamie... we really shouldn't...” Her face hadn't changed from when last I'd seen it. Still just a tinge of sadness, still that look of understanding. It was her voice that seemed to approach cracking. “I... I just want to feel something. I'm sick of this lonely, emotional emptiness. I just want to feel something again.” It sounded somewhere between a justifying statement, and a plea. It didn't matter to me, because I was feeling the same way. For a moment, neither of us moved. We just sat there, wondering what exactly to do next. After a moment, Jamie slid away from me just a few inches without taking her eyes off me. Slowly, she began unbuttoning her shirt. Her movements were slow, almost reluctant. But her eyes were set. Hardened. She removed her shirt entirely, revealing her only slighty less-than-flat stomach, and her black sports bra that concealed her breasts. I stood up and, without taking my eyes from her, fished a condom out of the box in my sock drawer. I couldn't, or didn't want, to keep myself back any longer. I realized that I needed this... whatever it would be... just as much as she did.

I slid over to her and kissed her again, resuming our previous pace; slow and warm. She shifted her legs and I heard her crocs hit the carpet. My own sandals joined them. I slid my hands slowly up her smooth arms, caressing her. I moved up to her shoulders and pulled her hair back, stroking her cheek again. Her own hands had gone down to the bottom of my shirt, and begun lifting it over my lean chest. I moved in-sync with her, sliding it over my head and throwing it off to somewhere that wasn't important in the least at the moment. I was lost in the feeling, as I'm sure she was. She ran her hands up and down my bare torso, while I slid the shoulder straps of her bra aside, revealing her bare collarbone. After a moment I heard the snap of the metal hooks, followed by a small moan from within her chest. I felt the air move as she dropped the sports bra to the floor. I gingerly began fondling her breasts, which I knew were gorgeous without having to see them. They were soft, smooth, and large; probably a C-cup. Her nipples became hard quickly as I softly teased them with my thumbs. I stuck my tongue into her mouth, tasting her sweetness. Her own tongue wrapped around mine. Yet still, we moved slowly. Gingerly. Neither of us wanted to rush.

Her hands slid down over my hips to my jeans, and slowly opened the button and zipper. I released a small moan of my own as I felt her soft hands on my erection, simply rubbing it. I squeezed her breasts a little harder than I had wanted in my surprise, drawing another short moan from her. But the sound only drew me further into the abyss of ecstasy. I wrapped my hands around her, one on her shoulder, and the other in the small of her back. Her body, so smooth and warm, drove me wild. She gripped the top of my now-loosened pants and began slowly pulling them down. Again, without breaking our stream of warm kisses, I moved in-sync with her to remove them. My erection was at full-size now, burning and throbbing with the slow heat of our actions. I reached over, remembering the condom, and placed it on myself before I lost the will. I then reached down to undo her pants, and she bent backward, as she had been sitting on her shins. I followed her back and laid by her side as we both removed her tight, dark jeans and threw them to the void with the rest of our garments. I slid my hand up her legs, as smooth as the rest of her. She shifted, chilled by my stroking even in our heat.

I slowly rubbed her mound through the cotton material of her panties, causing her to gasp into my mouth several times. She in-turn rubbed the length of my erection. Never stroking, but simply rubbing. After a moment, she lifted her legs to herself and removed her panties, her lips still never leaving mine. She held my hand in hers, and guided me in fondling her, gasping and moaning. Our pace still felt impossibly slow. It was strange. It wasn't a rampant fuck, powered solely by quick-burning lust, nor was it romantic love-making. It was something in between. Something born of emotions somewhere between love and sadness.

I could feel her blazing heat as I rubbed her. and a few slow insertions, which again drew high gasps of ecstasy, revealed her wetness. She was ready, as I'm sure her rubbing of my cock assured her that I was as well. She turned her body to face away from me, still never leaving my lips. She released my hand, and I swept it over her thigh, squeezing and caressing her ass as I went. I moved closer to her as she turned, pressing my aching erection between her legs. She arched back against me and opened her legs slightly in response, allowing me to find her opening. Her right hand caressed my neck and cheek over her shoulder, while her left hand slowly rubbed her aching folds. She held her lips open with her fingers, allowing me to press myself inside her. She stiffened up and moaned at the contact, breaking our kissing momentarily to breathe harder as I moved as far within her as I could go. Her warm, tight wetness sent a jolt of hot euphoria up my own spine, and I relished her heavy breathing whilst doing my own.

Slowly I pushed inside her, and slowly she melted back into me. Her hand held dearly to the back of my neck as we danced our strange, lovely dance. She lightly bit my lower lip and I in-turn bit her upper one before she turned away from me. I could feel her left hand grasp the sheets and hear her heavy breathing dotted by moans and gasps. I softly squeezed and fondled her beautiful breasts, relishing the heaving of her chest. Slowly I moved down to caress her legs. I moved from her thigh, to her shin, and down to her soft feet before retracing my steps on the inside of her leg, leading back to her inner-thigh. She lifted her leg into the air to allow me deeper access, but I was ready for more.

I lifted myself atop her, using my hands on her hips to guide her into position in-front and below me. I heard her hands grasp the wooden bed-end, and she moaned deeply as I pushed even deeper inside her. Her tight, wet, spasming depths stoked the fire inside me, yet I refrained from moving too fast. I bent down over her, tenderly sliding my hands back up to fondle her breasts. I kissed her back, her shoulder, her neck, and finally found her lips again as I slowly thrust inside of her. The squeaking and rocking of the bed sounded far away, as if the television were on somewhere. It didn't matter. I was totally lost in her. Her tongue snuck into my mouth hungrily, like a bee raiding a flower for honey. I tangled my tongue in hers and squeezed her breasts together in my hands.

Our movements were becoming faster, as if momentum were finally having an effect on our sex. My own thrusting as well as her undulating beneath me seemed to become more intense. Her right hand once again reached back to hold my neck, her nails scratching me. I merely moaned into her mouth; another sound in the symphony. As I was feeling myself approach my limit, she suddenly lifted herself up against me, we both on our knees. Her left hand grasped my own, aiding me in squeezing her breasts. Our dance stopped for the moment, and we simply sat there, sharing the heat, as if we were cooling down before starting again. The vigor of our efforts had caused us both to sweat, and slowly her back's contact with my chest felt more and more natural.

Gradually we returned to our original passion, that slow heat. She turned around and pushed me down onto the bed, as much with her lips as her hands. I obeyed and she followed me, sliding her silky legs over my waist. Her brown hair fell around us like a curtain, and I was again assaulted by the berry scent of her hair, intoxicating me. Slowly she began undulating atop me, rubbing her hot mound on my waist like a bomb waiting to be detonated. Her hands massaged my chest, and her soft moans told me she had thrown her head back. Gradually her motions brought her closer and closer to my throbbing member, until I could feel the soft flesh of her ass rubbing against it. I released another short moan of my own, and felt her lift up off of me, before impaling herself on me once again. The reunion of our sexes elicited another powerful gasp from her, and a surprised growl from me.

I leaned forward, wrapping my arms around her waist and nuzzling her breasts. She used both hands to grab the back of my head and lift my face up to where her's must have been, and kissed me hard. I returned the kiss, and began thrust up into her, my hands roaming her shoulders. She threw her head back and began moaning again, allowing me to return to her nipples. I lightly sucked and bit at them, softly grinding the rosy skin between my teeth. Her hands running through my hair, and the great heaving of her chest told me she found it pleasurable.

She bounced up and down in my lap almost painfully, adding a wet slapping sound to our sexual cacophony of moans and gasps. My heartbeat rocked within my chest, and I could hear her's doing the same. Blood burned in my loins as her inner walls began to spasm and contract, slowly growing stronger. Once again she grabbed my head and kissed me forcefully, before dragging me forward onto her back. Her right hand kept its grip on my neck, while the creaking of the end board told me she had gripped it with her left. I positioned myself between her legs and resumed our strange dance more savagely this time. We both knew that at last we were reaching our limits, and we each wanted greedily to finish grandly.

As I pounded into her. I could feel her walls tightening in a staccato rhythm with her heartbeat. And her moans were now very loud, coming from deep within her heaving chest. I realized that I too was breathing heavily, though I refused to tire. I pushed myself that much harder, to ensure that this... whatever it was that we shared, would end right. My thoughts became hurried and blurry, and this tempest of feeling began to overwhelm me. I wrapped my left arm around Jamie, and clamped my right hand on to the end board, for fear of losing control. And even then, Jamie seemed to feel as I did. Her arms wrapped around my neck, pressing her cheek against mine, and her legs wrapped tightly around my waist. Her gasps were now close-knit and high in my ear, melding with my own labored breathing. Finally, I felt her walls tighten around me, and her juices flow down my groin. The heat within me burst forth, quickly draining the whirling firestorm within me.

Her legs were shaking around my waist, as were my own. As I collapsed beside her on the bed, I noticed that her entire body shook. And as I nuzzled her, I felt a hot tear stream down her cheek. Her gasping now became quiet sobs. And once again, we shared each others' thoughts. I wrapped my arms around her, and joined her.
Several hours later, I awoke beside her again. She had turned away from me, and snuggled up against my chest, her arms over her breasts. I saw her eyelashes blink, and knew that she was awake. “Hey” I said softly. “Yo” she replied in the same hushed tone. It almost made me smile. Almost. Now that our sexual dance was over, sanity had retaken my mind. We had just had sex, for the sole purpose of feeling something. Not because we were young and hormone-driven, and not because we loved each other. We had had sex, for therapy. And my waking mind felt strangely for it.

After a few short moments, I said the only thing I could say. “Are you going to be okay?” She still spoke in a hushed tone. “Yeah. I think so. Are you?” I thought about it, myself. And I realized that all the pain, all the cold, empty pain I had felt this past month... was still there. But it didn't feel as cold. Or as painful. And as I felt her warm body against mine, it didn't feel nearly as empty.

I raised my head to look around my room. Bright twilight faded in through the shades of my window, and my digital clock glowed 5:00pm. And there, at the end of the bed near our feet, sat Christine and From a Buick 8. With a soft snort and a grin cracked on my face, I sat up and retrieved the books. She turned on her side to see what I was doing, and sat up with me. I held the two novels between us for a moment before offering them to her. “Do you want these books now?” I asked with a small smile on my face. She took them from me and looked at them thoughtfully. She then gripped them both by the bottom, and smacked the bindings against the top of my head.
“Maka-chop.”

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