Page 53 of Prime Time

“… feels so good when …”

“… deep inside …”

“… yes …”

“… thought you might be lying when you said …”

“No, there’s been no one since Robert.”

“Les?”

“Never, Lyon. I swear it.”

“Ah, Andy, it is so good.”

“For me, too. And, Lyon, it’s never been like this before.”

“You mean . . ?”

“Yes. Never before.”

“Kiss me.”

“Is it too hot?”

“No.”

“Too cold?”

“Just right. Where’s the soap?” she asked.

“I get to go first,” he said.

“No, I do.”

Lathered hands worked over a hairy chest. A dainty tongue dared to be adventurous. Fingers idled at his waist.

“Andy?”

“Yes?”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m afraid.”

“To touch me? Don’t be. Touch me, Andy.”

Tentatively she sought him. Bravely she touched him. Innocently she loved him.

“Oh, God, Andy.” He covered her hand with his own. “Sweet, sweet love, yes. Yes!” He backed her to the wet tile wall.

“It’s your turn now,” she said breathlessly.

“I forfeit my turn.”

Replete, they lay in bed, an interlocking puzzle of arms and legs. He lazily trailed his fingertips up and down her back as she nestled her nose in his chest hair.

“What did you think of my father, Andy?”

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