Thirty-one years and nothing to show for them other than six degrees, two Nobel Prize nominations, both of which he didn't win, and respect and reverence mixed with a lot of trepidation from his peers. But all that meant nothing, yet, meant everything in the overall scheme of things. He had no family to speak of; his mother and sister lived thousands of miles away in Hawaii, his brother God only knew where. No wife to share his successes and failures with, and no children to love and watch and teach as they discovered the fascinating world in which they lived.

Hell, he didn't even have a close friend, which was why he was sitting alone in his tiny apartment, drinking a somber birthday toast to himself out of a beer can. Well, that was one of the reasons. The other one was he didn't have enough money for food, otherwise he would have made dinner to go along with the beer. Some achievement for a "genius" from Elk Ridge, Indiana who had a mind that came around only once every generation, maybe more.

Ha! At least the depressing money situation was about to improve with the new position that awaited him at the Starbright Project. But, hell again, he couldn't afford the move to Washington, D.C. Wasn't that a wonderful Catch-22? Life's a bitch, he thought, and then you die.

Well, this wouldn't be the first time he'd had to sling hamburgers. He just wished the managers in those fast food restaurants weren't so paranoid about their jobs. Why couldn't they realize he had no interest in taking their place, that hamburgers were a long way from quantum physics, therefore, those people had nothing to fear from him. Obviously, there wasn't much difference between the world of greasy spoons and the scientific and academic communities. It didn't matter in which circle he found himself walking; everyone seemed threatened by Sam Beckett. And the irony of the situation was, he never did anything to warrant that kind of response. He'd always been perfectly content to spend countless hours in front of the computer working on his calculations, oblivious to the world around him.

Or, at least, he used to be. At this moment he could care less about quantum physics or music or medicine or Egyptology or artificial intelligence or ancient languages. He was lonely, downright so. In fact, the loneliest he'd ever been. Far more so than when he'd left the farm for his first year at college.

Younger than all the other students, he'd called home almost every day, pleading with his family to let him return. Even though his hungry mind was thriving on the environment, his professors didn't know what to do with him and his classmates were intimidated by him, which added up to a very confused and miserable existence. The people at MIT didn't understand that he just wanted to learn, that he wanted to fit in but they never gave him a chance. He should have known then that he was destined to an isolated life.

Most everyone needed and wanted companionship but, reflecting back over the years, he realized he hadn't had any since Sibby and Herky back home. Oh, there'd been the odd acquaintance here and there, but those relationships had never approached the "acceptance for who and what you are" that he'd had with his boyhood friends, and they'd ended with either the other person's move or Sam's.

There wasn't a soul on the face of the planet whom he could call "friend."

In a fit of self-pity, he crushed the not quite empty aluminum can in his fist and hurled it against the opposite wall. Beer splattered against the off-white paint and landed on the computer beneath but he didn't care.

Screw the computer.

Screw the wall.

Screw life.

He got up, grabbed a light windbreaker from the back of the couch, stuffed his wallet into the pocket and stormed out of the apartment, not knowing where he was going but needing to get out before the walls of loneliness closed in on him.

He wandered aimlessly for hours, totally unaware of where he'd been or where he was heading until he found himself in the middle of the unofficial red-light district. And the only reason he finally became cognizant of what was around him was, suddenly, people...women were latching on to him, grabbing his arm and walking with him awhile only to relinquish him to another when he moved outside their territory and into someone else's. He became an unwilling participant in a sort of demented do-say-do.

"Hey, baby, wanna have some fun?"

"Gee, you're kinda cute. Wanna date?"

"Nice bod', honey, but I'd like to see it naked."

"Hey, big boy, I'll blow you for twenty-five dollars."

Maybe leaving the apartment hadn't been such a good idea.

In an attempt to get away from the onslaught, Sam frantically searched for refuge. When he saw the "BAR" sign blinking on and off half a block away, he picked up his pace and went straight for it, hoping to find sanctuary inside.

As he drew closer, his mind took off in a totally new direction. He started wondering about the circumstances that had brought these women to this kind of life. What had happened to them that they had been reduced to selling their bodies on the street? Eyes fixed on a dark-haired, tiny woman wearing too much make-up and too-tight clothes, he entered the bar backwards and tried to imagine the privation that had forced her to be here at this very instant.

"She's too young for you."

Startled, Sam swung around to see a woman about his age addressing him from the interior of the building. She was tall, almost as tall as he was, and built along slender, willowy lines. Her classically beautiful face, heart-shaped with expressive blue eyes and a delicate, straight nose, was framed by long, golden blonde hair. Dressed in revealing yet elegant clothing, she didn't look like any of the females lining the sidewalk outside. High-priced call girl was more her style.

"Excuse me?" Sam asked. Confused by her statement, he gave her a puzzled look.

"I saw you ogling Gina and I thought I'd better point out that not only is she too young for you but she's also jailbait. She isn't even seventeen yet."

"I wasn't ogling her," he protested before her words registered. Once they did, he did a double-take through the slowly closing door. "She's only sixteen?" he asked incredulously and, looking more closely, saw Gina for the woman-child she was. She should have been with a bunch of friends giggling over teen-aged boys at a high school basketball game, not strutting her stuff toward every man who slowly cruised by.

"Would I lie?" The woman's tone indicated surprise and indignation that he would question her integrity. Her hands went to her hips and her head tilted askance when he didn't reply.

Sam couldn't help himself. He became intrigued by her. Taking his eyes off the now closed door, he turned to address her directly. "I don't know. Would you?"

Now that she had his full attention, the woman relaxed her posture. "Have I ever lied to you before?" she teased.

Sam smiled. "No. I can honestly say you never have."

"Good." She glanced up and down his body. "Now that that's settled, what brings a good-looking man like you down to this end of town?"

Sam tried to stifle the blush he knew was spreading over his face. He was bound and determined not to show his embarrassment. "I could ask the same question. What are you doing here?"

She laughed and thrust a hip out toward him. "Isn't it kind of obvious?" she countered while seductively running her tongue over her lips.

Flustered, he started to stammer. "No...no...no...th-that's n-not wh-what I mean. I m-m-meant why."

With a sudden jerk, her stance became defensive and her features hardened. Her eyes closed into a defiant squint laced with challenge. "What are you, some sort of researcher trying to figure out the psychology of the modern hooker?"

"No," he cried.

"My time's worth money, bud. If you want to ask questions, it's going to cost you."

Confused by her explosive reaction and regretting that he'd angered her, he turned and started to walk away, head hanging down in remorse. His only chance at human companionship, albeit under questionable terms, and he'd blown it. "I didn't mean it as an insult. I'm sorry. Really. I just want to understand."

She watched him take a few steps, then, without knowing why, took pity and went after him. Wrapping her fingers around his arm, she turned him around, forcing him to look at her. She searched his face looking for contempt but only saw candor in his expression. He was not trying to judge her, he honestly wanted to know. She peered closer and, upon seeing the sadness in his eyes, threw caution out the door and hoped she wasn't making a mistake. "Go ahead, ask your questions. I don't have anything better to do."

"I don't have any money."

"That's okay, hon. Consider it a freebie."

Sam looked around the bar wondering, first, how he'd gotten into this situation, then, how to tactfully keep it from getting out of hand.

She misread his hesitation and, thinking the crowd might be inhibiting him, took his hand in hers and led him outside and down the street toward a cheap hotel on the corner. "My name's Suzanne but you can call me Suzi."

Sam's head bobbed back and forth as he searched their surroundings and, upon seeing the other women scrutinize their progress with knowing expressions on their painted faces, he went into a sudden panic. "What are you doing?" he asked frantically.

"Getting out of this crowd so we can have a little more privacy." When he embellished the embarrassed look even more she added, "You're the one who's wearing the mortified expression, not me. I thought you'd be more comfortable someplace more discreet." She stopped at the hotel entrance, swung around and regarded him closely. "What's your name?"

"Sam."

"Listen, Sam, if you're afraid of me just say so and I'll let you go. If not, trust me. We'll go inside and talk." She felt the muscles in his hand tighten beneath her fingers. "We'll just talk," she added with a smile.

Sam worked hard at trying to relax. Taking a deep breath and struggling to loosen the tension in his shoulders, he checked out the facade of the building. An old, four-story brick building with an unlit neon sign, it looked exactly like he would expect an establishment that rented rooms by the hour to look, shabby, run-down and a day away from the wrecking ball. Against his better judgment because his insatiable curiosity had been piqued, he ignored the warning signs and allowed himself to be led up the steps and into the hotel.

They climbed two narrow, dimly lit flights of stairs and entered a small room which was furnished with only a double bed and a single, old, rickety chair that had been carelessly tucked into a corner. Sam took the chair, which creaked questionably under his weight, while Suzi kicked off her shoes and draped herself across the worn-out mattress covered by a frayed and dingy bedspread. She studied him for several seconds, enjoying the view immensely and wishing that they had come to the room for other reasons. However, she could tell by the rigid way he sat that getting him to relax enough to oblige her-and the chances of that appeared slim if impossible-was going to take a lot of effort on her part.

"So, Sam, what do you want to know? Why I became a hooker? Why I allow strange men to..." She was going to say "fuck me" but decided that the strong sense of morality she suspected he possessed (judging by the consternation he'd exhibited in the bar) was in for enough of a shock, so she quickly amended, "Make love to me? Well, I'll tell you, but you've got to understand, my reasons are uniquely different from any other girl's."

Without waiting for a response, she continued. "I don't need the money. I'm a computer programmer at a big telecommunications company and earn fifty thou a year." His eyes grew large and his mouth dropped open in amazement and that pleased her. She could barely wait to see how he would embellish the look when the rest of her story was revealed. "I've been married for thirteen years and have three kids, which is why I'm here. My husband's a computer consultant. He's a workaholic who spends fifteen hours a day at the office and comes home only to eat and sleep. He ignores me and barely pays attention to the kids. It's been three years since we've made love and he might not need sex but I do so I come out here a couple nights a week and get laid to my heart's content." She smiled and marveled at the way a blush crept up his neck. Watching it spread across his entire face, she got the impression that this was not an unusual reaction for him.

She peered closer before going on, wanting to experience, in detail, his further surprise. "I'll tell you, Sam, this pastime is the only thing that's keeping my hormones in check so I don't kill my husband."

Getting off the bed, she moved toward him. He shrank from her touch when she placed her fingers on the top button of his shirt but he seemed rooted to the chair. "Ah, come on, Sam. I won't hurt you," she implored. "You're just such a desirable man." She succeeded with the first button and moved on to the next but he gently entrapped her wrists, pressing her hands to his chest to prevent any further progression. He looked up and she met his piercing gaze. "You exude sexuality. Did you know that, Sam? I'll admit, you're a little more lean than I usually like and you look like you don't get much sun but I can tell that what there is of you is solid muscle." She rubbed the side of her fists against the well-defined pectoral muscles and let out an audible sigh at the feel of them. "You must work out." With the back of her hand, she found his nipple under the thin material of his cotton shirt and started to stroke it.

Releasing his grip with a suddenness similar to a reaction to an electrical shock, he abruptly stood up. "I have to go now," he announced, his voice unsteady and lacking total conviction.

Suzi took her opening deftly. She homed in on the rising bulge in his pants and encircled it with her fingers. "Don't go now, Sam. We're only getting started." She pushed her palm against him and rubbed the spot in circles, pressing harder with each revolution. His eyelids drooped and a low groan emanated from deep in his throat. "How long's it been?" She studied his face. "How long has it been since you sank yourself deep into a woman, Sam? How long has it been since you felt yourself surrounded by that warm, moist tightness?" She began to slowly lower his zipper. "How long has it been since a woman grabbed you or fondled you, or even kissed you?" She reached inside and wrapped her hand around him. "Come on, Sam. No strings, just hot and horny, lustful sex. Pumping and thrusting." She started to move her hand up and down his shaft. "And coming, Sam. Coming is the best part. Feeling your body pulsate with completion, feeling me convulse around you."

As Sam rescued himself from his stupor, his eyes flew open and he awkwardly backed away from her, stumbling over the chair in the process, and landed in a heap on the floor. He scrambled to his feet, fumbled to zip up his pants and, without a backward look, fled out the door while chastising himself for letting things go as far as they had. What had he been thinking of?

Therein, the problem lay. He hadn't been thinking of anything other than how good what she was doing to him felt and how he wanted to feel exactly what she'd been describing. That realization surprised him because, until then, he'd never been able to separate his emotions from the sex act. Up until the point when she'd wrapped her fingers around his erection, the term "making love" had meant what it implied and engaging in it without emotional attachments had been beyond his comprehension. From his first time, the night after he'd performed at Carnegie Hall, to the only semi-long-term relationship he'd been involved in, during a hot and sultry summer in Cambridge, he'd never been able to separate his penis from his heart.

Yet, somehow, this prostitute/computer programming nymphomaniac had aroused him past rational thinking and he'd gotten scared by the intensity of just how much he wanted her, a complete stranger.

Taking a heading toward his apartment, he tried to analyze his behavior and, after several vacillating minutes, concluded that it was ridiculous for a thirty-one-year-old man to be scared of something almost everyone else considered normal: the basic animalistic need for sexual release. What the hell was the matter with him? Was this just another example of how screwed up he really was? Another symptom of the insanity that everyone else called genius?

Having no answers, he forced himself to turn around and, without caring if anyone saw him, walked back toward the hotel, entered the building and returned to the room from which he'd fled.

Knuckles poised ready to knock on the door, he suddenly lost whatever bravado had carried him thus far and he balked. What was he going to say to her when she answered the knock, if she was even still inside?

"Oh, I've changed my mind, let's fuck."

"You did say this was going to be a freebie, didn't you?"

"I was just kidding earlier. Don't I play the innocent well?"

Before he found a plausible excuse for being there, the door swung open and Suzi almost walked into his raised fist. Their eyes locked for a fraction of a second and the intensity of hunger in his expression caused her to take a involuntary gasp for air. Quickly recovering and without saying a word, she grabbed both sides of his open windbreaker, pulled him into the room and kicked the door closed.

She wrapped her hand around the back of his head and brought his face down to her waiting mouth. Hungrily nibbling on the full lower lip, she placed her free hand on his buttocks to force him closer while she rubbed her hips up and down against him. He was still hard and that realization caused a ripple of excitement to flutter through her body.

"That's nice, Sam," she whispered in his ear. Barely able to contain herself, she grabbed his earlobe between her teeth and playfully nipped it.

Suzi took a step back and immediately regretted the loss of warmth. Skillfully, she ran her hands under his jacket in an upward motion and smoothly worked the garment from his broad shoulders while her eyes fixated on the hollow at the base of his throat, the spot she had exposed earlier. She watched the evidence of his racing pulse, the way the site seemed to throb with a life of its own. Glancing up, smoldering hazel-green eyes stared back at her from under desire laden lids. Everything about him transmitted need and want but the tension in the shoulders under her hands had spread to encompass his entire body. From top to bottom, he stood stoically, a living statue that was warm to her touch.

"Relax," she encouraged, trying to knead out the knots in his muscles. "This is supposed to be enjoyable."

"I can't."

She moved her mouth to the place she'd been admiring and, while running her lips and tongue over that enticing depression between his collarbones, whispered against his skin, "Why not? I'm not going to hurt you."

"I've never done this before." A small frown of confusion swept over his face when she looked up at him, followed by the sudden understanding that she might have misinterpreted his statement. "No...no...no," he stammered. "That's not what I meant. I've...I've...I've..."

"Never been with a hooker before," she finished for him, a touch of melancholy in her tone. No matter how much she wanted to deny it, his wholesome, boy-next-door demeanor was not an act. She suddenly felt dirty, as if she'd been trying to seduce a sixteen-year-old kid. "I know. Your body may be willing, Sam, but your heart and mind aren't, are they?" She searched his face with her eyes and her fingers. "You don't really want to do this, do you?"

His chin dropped to his chest, his eyes avoiding her completely. "I don't think I can." He nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then gingerly raised his eyes to hers.

"That's okay." She gently ran her forefinger along his cheek to his lower lip, where she lingered a second before reluctantly pulling it away. "But if you ever change your mind, I'm here every Wednesday and Saturday night."

The nervous twitch of acknowledgment at the corner of his mouth could have indicated relief or regret. She couldn't tell which. However, as she sank down on the bed to watch him shrug his jacket back onto his shoulders then turn to go, she knew that she felt both.

The walk back to his apartment should have taken only twenty minutes but it took Sam a little over an hour, his thoughts so wrapped up in replaying what had just happened while trying to cool his desire (a combination which proved counterproductive), that his pace never got above a saunter. When he finally became cognizant of the world around him, he found himself standing at his front door, and not alone. Suzi was casually leaning against the wall to his right.

"Happy birthday," she said, extending her right hand, his wallet contained within her grasp. "It must have fallen out of your pocket when you tripped over the chair. I found it under the bed when I was looking for my shoe."

He tried to shake the surprised expression off his face. "Thanks." Taking the leather billfold from her, he exchanged it in his pocket for his keyring. "Sorry you had to go out of your way," he apologized.

"It wasn't. My house is only a couple of miles from here." She paused uneasily as though she was going to say something else, faltered, then, with a resigned sag of her shoulders, pulled herself away from the wall. "You were all alone on your birthday," she finally commented. "That's why you ended up in my part of town." Neither observation was a question.

"Not intentionally. I got lost." He placed a key in the door and swung it open.

"You were lonely so you went for a walk and ended up in the sleazier part of town. If you didn't do it on purpose, I'd call that one hell of a subconscious message." She peered inside the one-room apartment. Although it was cluttered with books and papers piled high on every flat surface, including the floor, and several articles of clothing were draped over the back of the threadbare sofa, there was an organized appearance to the chaos. Her eyes latched onto the drying stain on the wall over the computer. Following the drips downward toward the floor, she saw the crumpled beer can wedged between the wall and the computer monitor. "Temper, temper, Sam," she voiced from behind a smile.

He replied with a sheepish expression.

"Can I come in for a drink?"

Sam pocketed the keys, entered the room and stepped aside for her to follow in a non-verbal invitation. "You have your choice of coffee or beer," he offered. "I finished the milk this morning."

"Don't you have anything stronger? You can't make a proper birthday toast with beer." She gave him a conspiring look. "Champagne's best."

He threaded his way around the maze on the floor to the small refrigerator tucked into a corner of the tiny kitchenette. Opening the door, he stuck his head inside. "Sorry, I'm fresh out of champagne," he announced. "How 'bout a Bud Lite?"

"And not even real beer to boot," she lamented as she came up behind him. "Oh, well." Placing her purse on the counter, she took the cold can after he'd popped the top open, and held it up in salute. "Here's to you, Sam. Happy thirty-first birthday and may you never have another one like this again."

Opening his can, he clinked it against hers and smiled back. "Hear, hear."

They drank in silence. Sam, while wondering why she had invited herself inside after the debacle at the hotel, watched her eyes dart around the room between sips.

"What do you do?" she asked and started wandering around.

He followed her until he reached the couch. Cradling the can carefully and covering the mouth to prevent the liquid from sloshing out, he flopped down on the lumpy cushions. "Nothing right now."

"Not only alone on your birthday but unemployed, too? No wonder you're depressed." She picked up a floppy disk, shook the splatters of liquid from it, then glanced at the label only to return it to the exact spot where she'd found it.

He was quick to defend himself. "I have a job. I just can't afford to get to it."

"Didn't you insist that they pay your moving expenses?" she asked, still drifting around the room, examining and exploring each item as though searching for clues about his personality.

"They're going to, but I don't have enough for a first and last month's rent, let alone a security deposit. And since the job doesn't officially start until October first, I'm kind of in limbo for the time being."

She turned to address him directly. "So, I'll repeat my first question. What do you do?"

He tried to hide his hesitation. He'd learned that most people he met became intimidated by fancy titles and degrees so he generally skirted the truth. "I tinker."

"And what do you tinker with?" she asked provocatively.

His throat constricted on the mouthful of beer he was in the process of swallowing. Acutely aware of her presence and the profound effect it was having on him, he knew had to come up with a retort and had to do it quickly before she succeeded in steering the mood into dangerous territory. "Computers." His voice came out a hoarse squeak.

"Well, now, isn't that a coincidence." Her wandering had brought her to the couch. Smiling at him, she took the seat next to him. "But I don't want to talk about work right now. Tell me about yourself." Leaning against the back cushion and slightly away from him, she tried to convey on a subconscious level that she didn't pose a threat and that he should relax and enjoy the conversation.

"There's not much to tell," he answered and caught a whiff of her perfume. The intoxication level of that fragrance passed that of any liquor he'd ever consumed. He shifted uncomfortably.

"I'll walk you through it then. Where were you born?"

"Indiana. I grew up on a farm with my father who died when I was nineteen, my mother who lives in Hawaii with my little sister and her family, and my older brother." He took in another lungful of that wonderful scent.

"Ah, the middle child syndrome," she observed with a knowing tone of voice. "Ignored, usually an underachiever and your basic general malcontent. I have one of those."

He laughed to himself at how far from the truth her speculations were. "Not quite." he corrected. "We've always been very supportive of one another."

She laughed humorlessly. "Oh, that explains why you're alone on your birthday. Such support."

"Supportive but broke," he amended. "My mom and sister called this morning. Doesn't that count?"

She pondered the question for a minute. She'd never been alone on her birthday. Even her loveless husband made a point of keeping his schedule clear on that day but it was done solely out of duty, not affection. The same with their wedding anniversary. "I guess. What about your brother? Did he call?"

"He doesn't know where I am. I kind of move around a lot and so does he. I wish we could spend more time together but economically, it just isn't possible. I'll see him at Christmas. We always get together for Christmas in Hawaii."

"How tropical," she muttered under her breath. "Tell me more, Sam. How come such an affable person doesn't have any friends to take him out for a birthday celebration?"

She was hitting a little too close to that raw nerve he'd exposed earlier in the evening. As a defense, he sloughed her question off. "I'm kind of a loner," he explained offhandedly, trying to give the impression that he was a loner by choice, not by circumstance, which was the real truth.

"Ah," she purred curiously. "The computer nerd kind of loner? The nice, quiet guy who ends up either hacking his way into the Department of Defense or, for your further enjoyment, taking a Uzi into a crowded fast food restaurant?"

He chuckled. "Not likely." A playful gleam lit up his eyes. "But you may have given me an idea." She had no way of knowing that he'd given up hacking years ago after a grant from the U. S. Government. With a simple PC, he'd worked his way into numerous top secret systems then had devised a program to protect them from others. "Unfortunately, I never stay in one place long enough to cultivate lasting friendships," he lied.

"So you're kind of a traveling egghead?"

"Hopefully not for long. I'd really like a permanent home. A place to stay for longer than a year." He pondered over the word "home" and realized that the farm, even though it had long since been sold and leveled to make way for a shopping mall, was still the only place he could connect with that comforting sentiment. "Actually, finding someplace to settle down is one of my biggest ambitions."

"So, how did you end up in this fair city?"

"The university." He'd just received his sixth doctorate, in ancient languages. There would be no more and that fact brought with it a mixture of conflicting emotions. He loved learning. This last degree had been obtained for the pure pleasure of it. (Well, sort of. How could he tell those hieroglyphics didn't mention outworlders if he couldn't read them himself?) He was comfortable in the scholastic environment but all the precursory steps had been completed. The time had come to get back to his ultimate dream, to realize the goal he had set for himself when he was five years old, and that wasn't possible on a university level even if he received every available grant dollar in the entire country. The government's resources were the only way to finance his venture and Starlight Project was going to provide a way for him to get his foot more firmly in the door.

Suzi gave him an admonishing look before she spoke. "Are you one of those perennial students? The kind who suck their families dry just so they can stay in school and never have to face the real world?" Tracing her finger down a stream of condensation on the outside of the beer can, she paused for a second. When he didn't answer, her head came up and she stared at him intently while she continued. "I mean, aren't you awfully old to still be in school?"

He was tickled by the first amusement he'd felt in a very long time and it caused a smile to light up his face, although he couldn't really understand why. Hers was a common reaction and the criticism usually upset him. He was tired of trying to explain himself. He'd been doing it ever since he was a little kid and, over the years, the practice had grown wearisome. But for some reason, her inquiry hadn't set off his usual defenses. "I'm finished now. And you can relax. My education hasn't cost my family one penny." He'd earned every degree on a scholarship. Universities all over had scrambled and competed with one another, trying to entice him into their programs at their expense just for the distinction of having him on their roster. Having contributed to the education of the next Einstein was a large feather in any school's academic cap. But he couldn't and wouldn't tell her that. So far she just thought he was an egghead, and eggheads were more readily accepted than geniuses.

Suzi scooted to the edge of the sofa and leaned forward to place her empty beer can on the bright blue trunk that served as a coffee table. "May I have another?"

"Sure." Sam shifted to stand up.

"Don't bother. I'll get it. Do you want one?"

Why not, Sam thought to himself. Use liquor to drown my sorrows. Too bad beer wasn't a good stupor-inducing drink. Oh well, the fact that he hadn't eaten a decent meal in days would magnify the puny alcohol content. "Yeah...please."

Suzi opened the refrigerator and found the interior almost totally devoid of food. The remnants of a twelve pack, half- empty jars of relish, mustard and mayonnaise filled one shelf while the other contained an almost finished jar of peanut butter, natural chunky, another of strawberry jam and three slices of bread, two of which were heels, wrapped tightly in a zip-lock bag that hadn't been closed properly. Instead of grabbing the cans, she shut the door, swung around on her heels and took the purse she had left on the counter earlier. "Let's go eat, instead," she suggested offhandedly. "I'm starved."

"Don't you have to get home soon?"

"It's only seven-thirty. My mother-in-law won't expect me till at least two a.m. Come on. Get your jacket."

"Your mother-in-law?" Sam exclaimed then chuckled while shaking his head slightly. "What do you tell her? I mean, about where you go at night all dressed up like that?" He gestured with both hands, palms up, toward the tight black dress that clung lovingly to every one of her sumptuous curves then flared out into a full skirt below her hips.

"You know," Suzi began, her tone wistful as though she'd never considered the question before. "She's never asked. I've been doing this twice a week for over six months and she's never once asked where I go or what I do." She grew quiet and her expression turned reflective. "I shouldn't be surprised. After all, she is my husband's mother and he could care less about what I do." She shook the faraway look off and, returning to the present, took Sam's hand. "Let's go out for a birthday dinner."

"I can't."

"Come on, Sam." She slowly perused every feature of his face, the hard planes of his cheeks, the bold, slightly roman nose, the mouth with its thin, slightly curved upper lip and full, luscious lower, and exhaled softly at the impact of how utterly magnificent and how perfectly masculine he was. "I'm hungry," she whispered, not meaning the comment as a need for nourishment.

The innuendo went right past him. Undaunted and without embarrassment, he announced, "I can't afford to go out. I've got to save everything I can in order to get to Washington, by the end of next month."

"My treat," Suzi suggested and braced herself for the argument that was sure to follow.

"I can't let you do that. You don't even know me."

"I'd like to know you. and the only way I can do that is to spend more time with you. Do you remember I told you earlier that I make lots of money and my husband makes lots of money?" She didn't wait for a reply. "Between the two of us we have more than we know what to do with. I'll be brutally honest. I saw your refrigerator. There isn't one damn edible thing in there and I'll bet the cupboards are bare, too. I have no idea when you had your last decent meal but by the looks of you I'd say you haven't been eating well for quite a while. So, I suggest you shut your trap and accept an invitation to go stuff your face at someone else's expense." She yanked on the arm attached to the hand that she still held firmly in her grasp. "Come on," she repeated.

Sam reluctantly hauled himself off the couch. At the thought of food, his stomach started rumbling loudly. She was right. It had been a long time since he'd had a full meal. And, as much as he tried to fight it, food had always been high on his list of priorities. His fast metabolism demanded it but his present financial situation had forced the demand down several notches. When he'd bought the twelve-pack of beer, he'd known he should spend the money on something less frivolous but, hell, it was his birthday. And, as if that was reason enough, he'd plopped down five bucks for alcohol instead of using it more wisely on things that would keep his belly full for a few days, like cans of stew and tuna, milk and bread and...and...and.

Suzanne drove them to a nearby steak house and without preamble, ordered the largest cut on the menu for both of them, cooked medium-rare with all the trimmings, sautéed mushrooms, baked potato, salad, garlic bread and a bottle of Beaujolais.

When Sam frowned at the addition of wine to the order, she smiled coquettishly and said, "How am I going to be able to take advantage of you later if I don't ply you with spirits now?" Watching the color rise in his cheeks, she added, "I've never met a man who blushes so easily. Did you used to be a monk or something?"

That tickled Sam's funny bone and, although he was still somewhat uncomfortable around her, he laughed softly. "No. I've just always embarrassed easily."

"Why? I'd think a man with your looks would be used to women coming on to you."

"I'm not good looking."

"The hell you say," she proclaimed. "When's the last time you looked into a mirror?"

"This morning when I was shaving," he replied matter-of-factly.

"Well, there must be something the matter with your vision, because you're one of the most appealing men I've seen in a long time. And take my word, in my profession, I see a lot of men."

"No I'm not. I have this hatchet of a nose, my eyes are too close together, I'm starting to lose my hair..."

"I didn't say you were pretty, Sam. I said you're one of the most appealing. You reek sexuality. You ooze testosterone from every pore of your body." She casually searched around the room. "Haven't you ever wondered why women are always staring at you?"

"Women don't stare at me," he declared adamantly.

"Oh, is that a fact?" Suzi nodded her head to the left and smiled broadly. "Then what're those women at that table over there doing? Checking me out?"

Sam turned to follow the direction Suzi had indicated. Sure enough, a group of four women, all in their late twenties or early thirties, were sitting around a table three spaces away and all of them were giggling over some private joke while they ogled what they could see of him. One of them flashed a coy grin and secretly wiggled her forefinger at him in greeting. His head snapped back abruptly.

"Are you really that naive?"

Knowing there was no safe way to answer, Sam dropped his eyes to the placemat and nervously fingered the edge.

"I guess you are. Unbelievable," she mumbled almost inaudibly. "You, my dear, need a little lesson in self-esteem. You should go over and talk to them."

Sam was appalled. His eyes shot up and widened with such speed that the movement sent his eyebrows sailing, giving the impression that they might keep on going until they flew right off the top of his head.

"Okay," Suzi mused. "Maybe you shouldn't."

"Thanks," he replied without courtesy.

"Oh, lighten up, Sam." Watching the mortified expression dissolve from his face, she was struck by a sudden thought. "Are you gay? I mean, that would explain a lot but, then again, it would confuse the issue, too."

"How?" He didn't take her question as an insult and even seemed slightly amused by it.

"Well, considering the state you were in when you left the hotel, I'd say you're not immune to the effects of a woman. But I suppose that's just a natural response for any man, isn't it? Especially for one who's gone too long without." She peered at him intently. "And I'm guessing it's been a long time for you, hasn't it?" The look on his face confirmed the latter question but not the former. "So, are you?"

Wanting to ignore her but too aware that she was the kind of person who would pursue the subject, he answered, "No," then felt a wave of relief when he saw the waitress coming toward them with their wine and salads. With any luck, the topic would change when they picked up the conversation after she left.

With the first words out of Suzanne's mouth, he knew there was no such luck when questions about his sexuality were involved. "How long has it been?" she'd asked.

"Why are you so interested in my sex habits?" he blurted out angrily.

She was not deterred. "It's kind of an occupational thing. I'm curious."

"The next thing you'll be asking is what positions I prefer and what specifically turns me on."

"Well...if you're offering."

"You're unbelievable." He studied her over the forkful of lettuce he'd been bringing to his mouth and valiantly tried to hang on to his anger. However, the candid expression that probed back dissolved his temper. After all, she had the same right to ask her questions that he'd had earlier in the evening. "I don't suppose I can get you to change the topic, can I?"

"Have some wine, Sam, and relax," she said, pouring the deep red liquid into the wine glass in front of him. "I don't want to make you nervous. I'm really not an ogre."

Without taking that bite, Sam dropped the fork and exchanged it for the glass. Staring at her over the rim, his lips poised to take a sip, he said gently, "I never thought you were an ogre. Just nosy."

"I repeat. It's an occupational thing. I'll quit. I promise." She picked up her wine glass and tilted it toward him. "It's your birthday. Let's drink a toast to never getting older."

"I don't mind getting older," Sam declared philosophically while staring into the ruby-colored beverage and swirling it around. "In fact, it's kind of helped."

"How? I mean, everyone minds getting older. What makes you different?"

"Because the majority of people I know are much older than I am and it's been real difficult convincing them to take me seriously." He gave a little chuckle before continuing. "They still think I'm crazy but at least they're not chalking my insanity up to youth anymore."

"Thirty-one is not exactly old, you know."

"Yeah, but it's a hell of a lot older than twenty, which is when I..." He broke off abruptly and took a sip of wine. Just once, he wanted to pass himself off as a normal, everyday kind of guy, with the same dreams and ambitions as everyone else. Not the freak that he knew he was. "Never mind."

Suzi had watched the turmoil play over his face. Her heart went out to the very lonely and pain-filled man who may have been sitting across from her, sharing the table and a meal with her, but was still very much isolated from her. "Come on, Sam. Finish it. Drop the barriers you've done such a good job of putting up around you and tell me what you were going to say."

"It's not important." He shook his head, trying to fling off the melancholy. Suzi watched his attention shift to a point somewhere over her left shoulder. "Here comes dinner," he said brightly.

Suzi twisted around to see the waitress, heavily burdened with a large tray, bearing down on them. "Damn," she mumbled under her breath, then turned back to her companion. "I have to go to the restroom. I'll be right back. Go ahead and start without me."

Sam, while watching her walk up the aisle toward the bar, became entranced by the subtle sway of her hips and how the motion sent her short skirt whooshing from side to side to reveal an expanse of perfectly shaped, long, luxurious legs. An image of those legs wrapped around his hips flickered into his mind which started a long-suffering chain reaction. His body's immediate tightening triggered the complicated mathematical calculation that, over long years of celibacy, he'd conditioned himself to replace lascivious thoughts with. That sent him into a cursing fit against the stupid fool who had once said that men had it easier when it came to sex because he knew, without question, that that person was either female or a totally impotent male.

He shifted position, trying to relieve the pressure against the front of his jeans, and was positive that everyone in the restaurant knew about his predicament, especially the waitress who was placing his meal down in front of him. Feeling the blush rise to the roots of his hair and the moisture content of his mouth dry up, he could only utter a squeaky "thanks" to her as he riveted his eyes on the contents of the plate with uncustomary fascination. Once she was gone, he directed a whole new string of curses at himself for his total lack of self control. He was no better than he'd been back in high school when Lisa Parsons had merely looked in his direction. Okay, maybe the fantasies were a little more detailed but, at his age, he should be able to control his hormones. His attention focused on the glass of ice water and, while he was seriously contemplating grabbing it and spilling it on his lap, Suzi returned.

"Sorry," she said, then noticed his untouched plate. "You should have started without me."

I did, Sam inanely thought to himself while he fumbled for the knife and fork.

His condition didn't improve much during the meal. After a couple of minutes, he couldn't even watch her eat. The sight of her mouth wrapping around the fork and her tongue darting in and out to lick her lips sent him down a whole new erotic spiral. He tried to busy his mind by concentrating on the steak, which was grilled to perfection, all pink and moist inside, or the baked potato, fluffy and wonderfully dripping with melted butter, but that turned out to be no diversion at all so he centered on the wine. Although he never allowed his hands or the glass to be empty and valiantly tried to keep his eyes averted, he was powerless when she caressed the stem of her own glass every time she picked it up.

From what he could remember about the taste of the food, the meal had been great but by the time they were finished, he knew it had been the worst one he'd ever had to endure. His attempts at trying to participate in polite conversation while waging an internal war had proved hopeless, causing them to lapse into a tense and awkward silence. And to top it all off, he'd consumed so much wine that he was more than slightly drunk. He eyed the glass of water and, even though the ice had melted, he was still tempted to dump the contents on his lap.

"Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you."

Sam's head shot up from the glass to see four people walking toward him, one of them carrying a small chocolate cake that looked like it might have come out of a Happy Home Baker, a single blue candle burning from the middle.

"Happy birthday, dear Sa-am. Happy birthday to you."

Suzi hadn't made a hasty retreat to the restroom, he realized. She'd been conspiring with the staff and now all eyes in the restaurant were on him. In his condition.

Drunk.

Horny. Mortified beyond belief.

Blushing, yet again.

Damn! Damn! Double damn!

Without saying a word, he blew out the candle the instant the cake was placed in front of him, hoping the crowd would turn their attention elsewhere once he'd completed the ritual. They did. The only eyes on him afterward were Suzi's and they held a look of sadness.

"I'm sorry," she apologized softly. "I thought you might like a cake but I guess I was wrong."

The string of curses Sam hurled at himself was nothing like the gentle self-recriminations he'd uttered before. These were vile, anatomically impossible condemnations that would have surprised anyone who knew him that he was even aware of their existence.

Once he was finished, he gave her a pleading look, hoping she'd understand but too painfully aware that there was no way she could. How could she? She didn't know him. She couldn't know that all his anger was directed at himself, at his lack of ease around people, at his inability to behave normally, at his goddamn hormones.

He watched her withdraw and felt a wave of guilt sweep over him, flushing his face even further. "No, I'm honored," he finally got out. The smile that followed was genuine. "That was sweet. It really was. I was just surprised." He picked up his knife and, poised ready to cut the cake, said, "Here, have some. It really looks good."

At first, what started as an involuntary response to the charming expression that beamed at her from across the table (a slight upward curve at the corners of her mouth), evolved into a wide grin of parted lips exposing brilliant, even white teeth, followed by a fit of hearty laughter when her attention shifted to the small pastry. "It looks like it was baked by a light bulb."

"Just like the ones my little sister used to make," Sam chuckled. "I only hope this one tastes better." He sliced the cake in two. "One time, she used salt instead of sugar. It looked so good and she was so proud when she offered me a piece. I took one bite of it and I think it went flying into the next county after I took the first bite." He slid half onto his bread plate and, with a wobbly hand, passed it across the table. "Poor kid. She was devastated and went crying to Mom that I was the meanest brother in the whole world."

Suzi took the plate and placed it in front of her. "How old were you?"

"Eleven. And my mother was none too pleased. She gave me a lecture about how I should have handled it. I believe it was my first serious lesson in diplomacy but by what just happened, I guess I didn't learn a damned thing. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You got caught off guard and you're a little drunk. One has a tendency to forget about social graces when one is inebriated."

"I'm not drunk."

"Well, if you're not it's a small miracle," she laughed. "That's the second bottle of wine and I've only had two glasses all evening."

Sam stared at the green bottle in astonishment and saw that the contents barely covered the bottom. He struggled to recall the waitress bringing it but he'd been so involved in diverting his thoughts that he hadn't paid attention. He knew he'd had a few and was feeling a little more than tipsy but the realization of just how much he'd drunk seemed to intensify his reaction, sending his head into a nose-dive of spinning and whirling.

"Whoa, there, bud," Suzi exclaimed, watching the color drain from his face. "You're not gonna get sick, are you?"

"I think we'd better go before I do," he suggested while struggling to swing his legs out from under the table. He unsteadily stood up. "Why didn't you stop me?" he asked suspiciously.

"You're a big boy," she replied, quickly scrambling out of her seat to wrap a supportive arm around his waist in order to keep him from swaying too noticeably. The impact of touching him and feeling the solid muscle that made him up affected her almost as much as the wine had affected him. Allowing her hand to wander slightly up his side and then back to his waist, she added, "And I'm not your mother."

His wine-scented breath brushed against her cheek when he leaned toward her and slowly, thoroughly perused her face from about three inches away. "That's for sure," he slurred amorously. "You're definitely not my mother." He leaned in further and brushed his lips across her neck.

Weak-kneed, Suzi mustered up all the willpower she could and pushed his head away. If anyone wanted to start something with her all they had to do was go for her neck and all her self-control would fly out the window. But they were standing in the middle of a crowded restaurant and all eyes were on them. No matter what responses his little nuzzle had kindled, this was neither the time nor the place to follow through. "Slow down there, cowboy," she whispered. "I've got to pay for this first."

"Okay."

Once the bill was taken care of, Suzi steered Sam to her car. She didn't really assist him into the passenger seat, rather she guided him into it as he crumpled in that direction and landed softly on the leather upholstery. As she climbed in behind the wheel, she laughingly said a silent prayer that he wouldn't pass out before she got him back into his apartment.

"Thanks for dinner," he said after they'd traveled several blocks. "It was great."

"You're welcome, Sam. I'm glad you enjoyed it. Can you do me one favor, though?"

"Sure...I think."

"Can you stay conscious until I get you inside?"

"I'm not that drunk. I'll have you know I've never passed out." The words were spoken with a fierce pride.

"Have you ever drunk this much?"

He was silent for several seconds while he mulled over the question. "I don't think so," he finally replied. He ran a hand through his hair, stopped at the top of his head to massage his scalp a couple of times then brought it down his face, pausing with his thumb and forefinger pinching his nostrils shut and his palm clasped over his mouth. He remained in that position for quite a while. When he finally dropped the hand from his face, he took a deep breath, turned toward her and asked, "Do I seem weird to you?"

Suzi was taken aback by the abrupt question but didn't let her surprise come out through her voice. "What do you mean?"

"Do I seem a lot different from other men?"

"I don't know what you mean. If you're implying general terms, yes, you're different but I'd never call you weird. Your difference is a gentleness, almost a naiveté, that most men don't have. Who called you weird?"

"No one to my face, or at least not for a long time. I was just wondering what you thought."

"I already told you what I thought. You're sexy, very appealing and, when you're not trying to hide the fact that you have a libido, a very good conversationalist."

"You knew?"

"It's real difficult to hide that pup tent syndrome with just a napkin."

"Shit," he mumbled. Turning away, he felt his face turning crimson for about the thousandth time that night. "Why were you even looking there?"

"It's no big deal, Sam. All women look. We look at your butts, we look at your crotches, shoulders, arms, chests. We're no different from men. Actually, sometimes we're worse. And we accept a hard-on for what it is, a form of flattery." She briefly glanced in his direction. Because of the darkness, she couldn't see his expression but by his body language, arms folded tightly across his chest, shoulders bunched with head bent down, she knew this was not a topic of conversation he was comfortable with. "No, really, it is. A woman likes to know she can have that kind of effect on a man, especially one as well put together as you are. It's nice to know you're desirable to the opposite sex."

Sam shifted his gaze to look outside the window and noticed they were, thankfully, almost back to the apartment building. While he concentrated on making his head stop spinning, he silently vowed to himself that he would never, ever get caught in such a humiliating situation again and hoped he could make a quick and graceful escape.

No such luck.

Suzi pulled into a parking space by the curb and, even before the car stopped rolling, Sam threw the door open and started to get out. The forward motion of his feet against the stationary curb pitched him off balance, forcing him to use the roof to steady himself and wait for the dizziness to pass. He stood patiently, preparing for the nausea that was sure to follow but it never developed. Instead, as the whirling slowed down, all the other adverse symptoms he was experiencing from too much wine seemed to dissipate along with it, leaving him with a sudden feeling of euphoria.

"You okay?" Suzi asked. She was standing next to him between the curb and the sidewalk on someone's patch of dying grass and he hadn't even heard her get out of the car. Placing a supportive hand on his shoulder, she waited for him to answer.

"Yeah," he replied, then took a deep, cleansing breath. "I'm great." He stood up straight, shrugged his windbreaker back into place and inhaled deeply again. The fragrance of roses mixed with freshly cut lawn filled his nostrils, which made him think about home and how it wasn't there anymore, which prompted thoughts about loneliness and the empty apartment upstairs. Suddenly, all wishes for a hasty retreat vanished. He couldn't stand the idea of being alone just yet. "Wanna come up?"

"Do you want me to?"

Nervously digging his hands deep into his jacket pockets gave the only clue that he was troubled by what the invitation implied. There was no hesitation in his tone when he finally answered, "Yes, please," and gave her a beseeching look.

In a flash, Suzi decided that no matter how much she wanted to, she wasn't going to succumb to the gloom that emanated from him. If it took every feminine wile she had, she was going to pull him out of the blue funk that she'd identified from the second he'd entered the bar. Wrapping her left elbow around his right, she gave him a "come hither" smile and a quick peck on the cheek. "Okay, Sam. Let's party."

The instant the door closed behind them, she dropped her purse, turned and lightly ran her hands up his arms, stopping to rest them on his broad shoulders. She was sorely tempted to asked, "Shall I lead or would you like to?" but instead, clamped her teeth down on her tongue and waited. When several seconds ticked by and he made no move except his eyes' thorough examination of her face, she took his hands in hers and placed them on her breasts.

His gaze shifted and, while he watched, his palms filled when he cupped her lovingly. Feeling her nipples tighten into hard buds, he lowered his mouth and suckled the right one through the delicate fabric of her dress. Her back arched toward him, encouraging him to take more but instead, he transferred his attention to the left one and put his hands low on her sides. His thumbs massaged the slight depressions just below her hipbones while his fingers reached around and started manipulating her at the flare of her hips. The action smoothly caused her pelvis to sway back and forth. When he briefly dipped his thumbs into the junctures at the top of both thighs, she gasped and wrapped her arms around his head to bring him closer while thinking that, although he might not be comfortable talking about sex, he knew damned well what he was doing.

Suzi struggled to find a voice that was lost somewhere in the puddle of warm liquid she was turning into. "Um...? Sam...?" He'd brought his right hand up and had begun to knead her right breast while still ministering to the left with his mouth. His left hand had reached around to fondle the lower curve of her buttocks, pulling her to him. She was quickly losing herself to a flood of sensations but there was something she had to do. What was it? A question. She had to ask a question but what question was it? Fighting through the sensory overload, she tried to remember. The answer slowly jelled and she fought to find her voice again.

"Protection, Sam. Do you have protection?"

Sam's head jerked away from her and he, too, fought for control. His muddled brain slowly cleared but it took a while for her question to register. In a matter of seconds, he flashed on the two packets he'd carried around for years, finally throwing both of them out when the foils started to crack along the seams. One of them he had accepted with much embarrassment from his father on his seventeenth birthday and the other one... The other one had been obtained during a teen-aged lark with Herky and Sibby.

Herky was celebrating his sixteenth birthday and his brand- new driver's license on the same day. His folks had allowed him to take out the family car, an old Chrysler Imperial, knowing the vehicle was immune to damage even with a teen-ager behind the wheel. And Herky had acted like a jerk. With Sam and Sibby piled in the car with him (Sam still wondered why his parents had allowed him to go), he'd cruised up and down the only boulevard in Elk Ridge about six thousand times before leaving town and heading out on the interstate. At the truck stop near Bentleyville, he'd pulled in to use the restroom, leaving his friends to wait for him. He'd returned to the car proudly displaying a small, square packet with a picture of an Aztec warrior on the front. Having never seen one before, Sam had no idea what the item was.

"A rubber, you idiot," Herky had berated him, forgetting that Sam was a year and a half younger than he was. "There's a vending machine full of 'em in the bathroom for only a quarter each. All us guys have 'em. Ask anyone. We carry 'em around in our wallets." He'd swiveled around in the driver's seat to give Sam, who'd been relegated to the back seat, a long-suffering look. "Sometimes you're such a baby."

That's all it had taken. A quick glance at Sibby, whose expression verified that what Herky had said was the absolute truth and that he, Sam, was stupid not to know, had evolved into a silent dare that had sent Sam quietly searching through his jeans pocket to fish out a quarter. He'd stretched out that twenty-pace walk from the car to that filthy truck stop bathroom and balked three or four times before he was able to put that quarter into the slot but he'd finally done it and he'd carried that silly trophy around with him for over fifteen years. That wasn't to say in all the ensuing time he'd never used a condom, just not that one or the one his father had given him.

"No," he answered Suzanne then took a shaky breath, stood up straight and took an unstable step away from her. "I don't."

"Don't look so disappointed, Sam," she exclaimed cheerfully, having reclaimed her sense of balance. "If you don't, I do. In my purse." She looked down to the spot where she'd dropped it the minute they had entered the apartment. "A woman in my profession has to be prepared." She stooped down, picked up the handbag and brought out a handful. When she saw Sam's surprise, she laughed. "Well, I was supposed to be working tonight."

The instant the words left her lips she knew she'd made a grievous error. Within a heartbeat, the passion was gone and he was left standing in a slump, as though the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. She let the purse and condoms slip from her hands.

"Don't, Sam," Suzi whispered. "I want you. Don't deny me." She pressed her palm against his cheek and added tenderly, "Don't deny yourself. You need this. You deserve this. And I'm sorry I'm not the loving wife you should have by now, but let's pretend that I am." She brought up her other hand and cradled his face. "Let's pretend we have a history together, that we've wooed each other with our charms. And when it's over there'll be no regrets. I know I've only known you a few hours but I care for you and I want to help chase the demons away. Please let me."

Sam didn't know what to do. His body cried out for release, his erection straining against his zipper a painful reminder, while his mind churned between a fantasy of writhing bodies which sent him further into oblivion only to snap back to the reality that what she asked of him was wrong.

But why was it wrong? His liquor-fogged logic couldn't supply an answer. Instead, his mind conjured up an explanation. Sex was as natural as breathing, eating, sleeping. And he needed her right then, more than he'd ever needed anyone before. She was right. She could help wipe out the uncertainty over the reason for his existence or, at the very least, chase the doubts away for awhile. It was crucial to his well-being that he turn off his brain and give in to his body's urges...so he did.

He brought his hands up, rested them on her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze. He waited until her gaze met his, then he lowered his head and took possession of her mouth. Within seconds, he was hungrily forcing his tongue past her lips and teeth to enter the sweet warmth beyond. Wrapping his arms tightly around her, he crushed her against him and, through the cloud of dizzying sensation, felt her nipples press against his chest and her belly against his engorged penis.

"Slow down," Suzi instructed, her voice barely audible above the roaring in his ears. "Slow down, Sam." She pulled herself from his embrace and lightly took his hands in hers while searching the room. "Is there a bedroom?"

He couldn't speak. Hell, he could barely find the thought processes necessary for speech. He swallowed convulsively and tried again. "No. It's a sleeper sofa."

"Not that we're going to sleep, but could you open it up? I want us to be comfortable and you need to take a deep breath." She didn't know how else to say it. He hadn't frightened her but he'd been frenetic. If her theory about how long it had been since he'd been with a woman was correct and if he'd kept up the same pace, he would have been finished before he'd even started. That wasn't what she wanted for him. Or, she thought selfishly, for herself either. His was a body she wanted to savor but the direction he'd been heading in wouldn't have allowed that.

The same sheepish expression she'd been seeing over and over again that evening crossed his face once more. "Sorry." He took that deep breath and walked over to the sofa. Pulling the bottom cushions off, he carefully piled them out of the way, grabbed the metal frame and yanked the mattress out.

She watched him while warring with herself. She had to have a answer before she would know how to proceed but asking the question could risk the wrong outcome. "I know you're going to get angry, Sam, but I have to know. How long has it been?"

"Almost eight years," he admitted without taking offense. Rather, knowing himself for the freak he was and unable to face her, he focused all his attention on getting the bed set up.

Suzi was ever so grateful that he hadn't been looking at her at that moment--he would have seen an expression of shock that she'd insist she wasn't capable of but knew was pinned to her features. Eight years? That virile body hadn't been with a woman in eight years? She hadn't been able to think straight after two. Sex had started to occupy all her thoughts, both conscious and subconscious after one, and eighteen months later, she'd realized she couldn't take any more. And he'd gone eight? No wonder he'd been so frantic.

She regrouped and walked up behind him. She gathered his shirt in her fists, pulled the tails out of his waistband and placed her hands on the bare skin low on his sides. She felt a tremor quake through his entire body, then his muscles bunched as though he was getting ready to move away from her.

"Trust me," she said, pulling him back and, working her way upward, unbuttoned the shirt from behind. Once that was completed, she dragged her hands under it and swept it off his shoulders and down his arms. Reaching around, she put her mouth to his ear and her fingers to the top of his jeans at the snap and whispered, "Don't do anything. Just trust me."

She carefully popped the snap and lowered the zipper. He was leaning back against her now, his head lolling, his breathing becoming more rapid. "Trust me," she said again as she tugged his pants down to his knees then curled her fingers around his erection. "Relax, enjoy and don't think about anything but how good this feels." Her grasp tightened and she began to move up and down his shaft, intensifying the rhythm when he started thrusting against her grip. Still pumping him, she dragged her mouth down his muscular back, trailing her tongue against his now sweat-drenched skin, lapping at him as though he was a salt lick.

Feeling him stiffen with imminent climax, she increased speed and pressure. "Let yourself go, Sam," she encouraged even though she was beginning to find concentration difficult. It was like she could feel him inside and her own muscles were responding. And when he started to pulsate under her hand, a wave of ecstasy washed over her and she shattered with him.

Suzi didn't want to give him a chance to react adversely. Gathering her senses quickly, she sidled around and faced him. She placed her hands on his chest, twirled her fingers through the hair that grew there and stared into his eyes, trying to judge his response. "That felt good, didn't it?"

Sam couldn't look at her. His concerns weren't only centered on the incongruous situation. They branched out in a several different directions, from embarrassment over how fast he'd climaxed to humiliation that he was still hard and how his body continued to scream for release.

She seemed to read his thoughts. A smile spread across her face and, planting her hands on her hips, she deepened her voice when she spoke. "'Sure, Suzi, it felt good,'" she mimicked good-naturedly. "'But, as you can see, it barely scratched the surface.'" She wound her hand around the nape of his neck and forced him to look at her. "Sammy, by the time I'm finished with you, you'll have trouble remembering those eight years."

Tugging on his head a little more forcefully, she brought his mouth down to hers and nibbled on his lower lip. She then skimmed downward and sucked on his chin. Her hands had dropped to his shoulders and she marveled at how broad and solid they felt under her fingers. Perfect, she decided as her mouth worked its way down the strong column of his neck to the hollow between his collarbones; the man's body was perfect. He was the most exemplary male of the species that she'd ever had the pleasure of seeing and, for the moment, he was all hers. The very thought caused a ripple of excitement to rush through her and she became overwhelmed by a need to feel him naked against her.

"Let's get out of these clothes," she suggested and started to kneel down to take off his high tops in order to remove the jeans that were still bunched up around his knees. Her eyes latched onto his jutting hard-on and she had to struggle against the urge to take it in her mouth. Safe sex, she lectured herself. She'd been doing this long enough to know they'd already had the only unprotected encounter they would have for the evening. She'd done it for him but, staring at him with a hunger that couldn't be sated, she lamented her loss.

Sam watched her hesitate then leaned over to help her. At first, he hadn't understood but the reason had finally jelled in his hormonally overloaded mind. "It's okay," he said as he lifted his left foot, took off the shoe and stripped the jeans leg off.

"I wish..."

"It's okay, Suz." He repeated the procedure with the other leg, then put his hands under her arms and helped her up.

Standing before her naked, he took Suzi's breath away. "You are truly magnificent," she murmured in awe as her eyes feasted over every inch of him from top to bottom. She knew with absolute certainty that, after seeing him, she would never be able to look at another man without making comparisons and was positive that none of them would ever come close to the splendor that now stood before her.

Sam felt another one of those awkward blushes spread over his face. Not because he was almost stark naked while she was still fully clothed but because of the raw emotion her comment had carried. To him, it was just a body, the one he'd been born with, the one he saw every day. He tried to take care of it, spurred on by his father's early death and by the knowledge gained in his medical training, but the outcome really just boiled down to genetic make-up and thanking her would be taking credit for something he'd had no control over.

Suzi couldn't contain herself any longer. She had to touch him; however, like a starving person faced with a table full of her favorite foods, she didn't know where to start. Finally, of its own volition, her right hand tentatively reached out and stroked his left nipple. What had been a flame of desire instantly roared out of control and developed into a full-fledged wildfire, spreading and consuming every fiber of her being, driving her on. Her mouth replaced her hand and she began pushing him backward toward the bed. She had to have him.

When his knees made contact with the metal frame, Sam fell over onto the mattress. On his back, he lifted up on his elbows and forearms and intently watched her reach around and unzip her dress, pull it off her shoulders then sacrifice it to gravity which carried it down and transformed it into a dark puddle curling around her feet. Underneath, she wore only a black garter belt and real silk stockings. Sam swallowed involuntarily and offered his left hand to her, unable to take his eyes off her.

She was beautiful, long and lean but with curves in all the right places. Her breasts were small yet perfectly shaped with nipples already aroused and taut. Her belly was flat and flared out to lusciously rounded hips. Nowhere was there evidence that this body had given birth three times.

Suzi started to give him her hand but snatched it back when she suddenly remembered the condoms she had left on the floor. "Just a minute," she said. Taking three steps, she bent over, giving Sam an eyeful and picked up a couple from the pile. She turned back toward him and gave him the most sultry look she could. "May I?"

Sam lay flat on his back in a silent invitation and she R.S.V.P.'d instantly. Putting on the condom became as much a part of the act as the consummation that would soon follow. She sat down at his hip and prolonged the task with tender strokes and caresses. Sam lifted his head and couldn't break his stare while watching her slip the sheath over him, but once she was finished he relaxed his neck muscles and laid his head back down. Which was why he jumped when she ran her tongue along the inside of his thigh. He hadn't seen her bend down over him; therefore, he hadn't been expecting it and was taken totally by surprise. And he definitely hadn't expected her to keep traveling upward, nibbling and sucking along the way.

"Wait," he bid her and, bringing his elbows and arms up under him, lifted his head again to see that she was about to take him in her mouth.

"Why?" she asked, extending the one syllable word with sing-song.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Well, um...don't you, um...want..."

Laughing, Suzi planted a hand squarely on his chest and pushed him back down. "Hell, honey, I already have and I plan to several more times before we're finished. Don't worry about me. I'm like a kid in a candy store and you, my dear, are the chocolate."

"Later then, Suz," he directed and reached out to bring her up to the top of the bed with him. "Right now, I wouldn't last a minute." He was already close and the bare drag of her body up his brought him even closer.

She dipped her head and licked up his breastbone. When she got to the top, she gave him a quick peck on the chin. "Okay, Sam. We have all night."

"I thought you had to be home by two."

"I called when I was ordering your birthday cake and told my mother-in-law that I wouldn't be home till morning. Important stuff to do, you know."

He gaped at her. "How can you lie?"

She tweaked his nose. "It wasn't exactly a lie. This is important stuff. Besides, my entire family has magic slates for brains. It must come from my husband's side of the family. She'll only vaguely remember that I called, let alone remember what I said."

"You're a devil, aren't you?"

"Moi?" she questioned indignantly. "You've crushed me. I did it for you."

He beamed back the warmest, most genuine smile she'd ever seen before he said, "Thanks, I think."

"You're welcome, positively." She nuzzled her face against his chest and kneaded his right nipple between her thumb and forefinger. "Now, that's enough talk, let's get back to the good stuff."

The playful atmosphere suddenly became charged with electricity when he started massaging her back and sides while she still lay draped across him. She glanced at him, saw the intensity in his eyes and wiggled her way up to his face. "Did you know you have the most sensuous mouth in the whole world?" she asked and, without waiting for an answer, pressed her lips to his. He tasted like wine.

Drunk from the mere smell of him, her tongue led his into an intoxicated chase. Darting from one mouth to the other, they twirled and teased, enticed and sought pleasure in an erotic dance she'd never performed before. She brought her hands up and cradled the hard planes of his cheeks between them, trying to bring him closer, needing to have him closer. By the time they broke, her lungs had been depleted of all their air and she gasped for breath.

"Oh my," she whispered. "That was one hell of a kiss."

He smiled that beguiling smile and lowered his lips to her neck, sending a shiver of unbridled urgency down her spine. As he laved that slender column, he had no way of knowing that he'd just passed the point of no return. He'd done that earlier and she'd had to let him get away with it, but not this time. The shiver grew into a dull ache that evolved into an overwhelming emptiness that cried to be filled. Pressing her belly harder against his erection, she began to move. When she grabbed his shoulders and arched her upper body away from him to increase the friction, he started to answer her thrusts.

Sam maneuvered one hand between them and slowly worked it downward to the nest of curls at the apex of her thighs while the other lovingly caressed her right breast. His fingers found her hot and wet and he slipped one into her.

"Hell yes, I'm ready," she exclaimed. "I've been waiting for you my whole life."

Sam chuckled. Still feeling the effects of all the wine he'd consumed, his sense of humor took over. "Well, if you're so damned ready what're you waiting for? You're the one on top and you have me pinned down here like a bug on a specimen board."

"Good point..." She paused and tilted her head to one side in a perfect imitation of a confused puppy. "What's your last name?"

"Beckett."

She relaxed her posture. "Good point, Beckett." And she moved to straddle him.

Taking his erection in her grasp, she started to guide him home. Well aware of what was about to happen, she came the exact moment of penetration but that didn't lessen her reaction. Her whole body quivered around him, the tremors becoming more powerful as she forced him deeper. In pursuit of the next one, she lost control and mindlessly rode him, giving in to the sensations building throughout her entire being. She was only faintly aware of his hands on her hips, helping her, directing her, lifting her as he plunged and withdrew, plunged and withdrew. She yelled out his name when she was rewarded with her second orgasm but he didn't stop. He continued to drive into her, the power of his thrusts causing her to soar again both internally and externally. And when she felt him stiffen then shudder, her muscles involuntarily convulsed around him for the third time and induced his release.

Suzi collapsed into a heap and tried to catch her breath. Slowly, she became cognizant of the heaving, sweaty chest under her. Using all the energy she could muster, she raised her head and looked at him. His visage was one of supreme satisfaction, eyes closed, facial muscles relaxed and arms splayed out at shoulder level, left where he'd exhaustedly dropped them.

He must have sensed her because his eyes sluggishly opened and a smile pervaded his relaxed features. He moaned softly then wrapped his arms around her and gave her a enfolding hug. She rested her head against him and paid no attention to the way his chest hairs were trying to tickle her nose.

"That was incredible, wasn't it?" she remarked breathlessly.

"Uh-huh."

"And it seemed to go on forever."

She felt rather than heard a low rumble of laughter. "I suppose, if you can call a minute and a half forever."

Her head jerked up and she stared at him intently. "No way," she declared.

"Trust me. I have a real acute sense of time."

"Well you're wrong. There's no way I could've had three orgasms within the span of ninety seconds."

"Three? I only felt two."

"Ah-ha. If you only felt two but there were three how can you be so sure about how much time passed?"

Sam threw his arms up in a conceding gesture, let them drop with a bounce on the mattress, paused for several seconds then stirred to get up.

"Don't go," Suzi pleaded and tried to snuggle a little closer. "Not yet."

He lifted her head, gave her a quick kiss and gently pushed her off of him. "I'll be right back."

"Where're you going that it can't wait a few more minutes?" She hoped that hadn't come out sounding too much like whining but she wanted to revel in the afterglow for awhile longer.

He exhaled and punctuated the end with a barely audible grunt. "To the bathroom to get rid of this thing. Okay?" His tone of voice had been a little too edgy.

"Okay," she replied meekly and, twisting at the waist, watched him get out of bed and pad toward a closed door she now knew led to the bathroom.

She was so fed up with herself that she didn't even pay attention to that wonderful backside as he walked away. That was stupid, Suz, she scolded herself. Really stupid. If you'd been using your brain you would've known where he was going and wouldn't've had to ask. Now you've gone and ruined the mood. She flopped back onto the mattress with an aggravated plop, rolled onto her back to stare at the ceiling and tried to clear her mind of everything but those incredibly intimate moments they'd shared prior to when she'd opened her mouth and inserted her foot.

Beckett...Sam Beckett. That name sounded familiar and she knew it wasn't just because of the playwright. He'd said he had something to do with computers. Maybe that was it. Maybe she recognized his name with a connection to computers. But from where? She mulled it over, trying to remember and finally came up with the answer.

The Corporation had purchased an anti-hacking program and the person who had written it was Dr. Samuel Beckett. Could this Sam Beckett be one and the same? No, she concluded with complete confidence. Men who wrote computer programs couldn't look like that. They were pale, pimply-faced geeks who thought muscle tone had something to do with audio systems. They couldn't possibly have a body that screamed out to every female who got within fifty feet like his did. They weren't capable of sending a woman soaring to new heights like he had unless they gave her a plane ticket beforehand. Her Sam had to be a different Sam Beckett.

She was plagued with a shadow of doubt until the bathroom door re-opened and that glorious male walked back to the bed. No way could this be the same guy. Dr. Beckett was probably five foot six, had thinning hair he insisted on parting near his ear to bring up over the barren top, buck teeth and a penis that had shriveled up from disuse.

Wait a minute. Sam had said it'd been eight years and, lord knew, there definitely wasn't anything wrong with his equipment. Okay, scratch that. Maybe his penis wasn't shriveled but she was ready to bet her bottom dollar that it had never seen the inside of a woman.

"You okay?"

His voice and hand on her shoulder caught her by surprise and snapped her out of her cogitation. "Are you Dr. Samuel Beckett?" she blurted out.

His demeanor was suddenly all wrong. As he looked down at her from the place where he stood next to the bed, she saw the sparkle that had been in his eyes was gone and had been replaced, with a vengeance, by the sadness that had been so evident earlier in the evening. His shoulders sagged and he sank down to the bed defeated. "Yes," he answered, his voice full of dejection.

Suzi was given over to a sudden panic attack. Something dreadful had happened between the bathroom and the bed and he was about to tell her. "What's the matter, Sam?" she prodded anxiously. "What's wrong?"

"You know who I am."

Her first thought had been everything's okay, quickly followed by her second which was, what the hell was wrong with him, scaring her like that? Suzi relaxed, stifled a smile of relief then gave in to her anger. "Oh, I see. And that's supposed to explain why you suddenly look like your dog just died."

"Well, you're gonna leave now, aren't you?"

"Why would I do that?" she asked. Her confusion showed by the deep furrow building between her eyebrows. "I told you we have all night. Are you kicking me out?"

He pretended that he was more interested in cleaning out the fingernails on his left hand with the fingernails on his right than he was in their conversation while she was experiencing great difficulty staying focused on the topic while he sat next to her.

She glanced down to the spot where his naked hip wasn't quite touching her thigh and noticed the garter belt straps and the silk stockings she hadn't removed. One strap on each leg had popped and, because of the way she'd been bending, both stockings had been stretched out at the knees. There was even a little run down near her left ankle.

She shook her head to clear it of such addled thoughts. What the hell was she doing? The most sexy, most absolutely gorgeous man she'd ever seen was sitting on the bed next to her totally naked except for white tube socks and she was calmly taking inventory of her lingerie. Jeez. Maybe that was Victoria's secret: become so entranced by your own underwear that you lost track of everything else around you, including desire. Well, there was no way she was going to fall victim to that affliction.

"You haven't answered me yet," she stated. "Are you kicking me out?" She was having trouble keeping her eyes centered on his face when that broad, well muscled chest covered by just the right amount of hair was tugging on her peripheral vision.

"No. I just thought you might want to leave."

"Just because I discovered that you're the Dr. Beckett who wrote the anti-hacking program we use at the office, you think I'd want to leave?" She got up on her haunches and gave him a bewildered look. "I don't understand. Is there something I'm missing here? Didn't we just have the greatest sex you've ever had?" Noticing the blush start to creep up his neck, she waved her hand in negation and continued without pausing. "You don't have to answer that. I will. Yes, Sam, I can honestly say that was the greatest sex I've ever had even if, according to you, it only lasted a minute and a half. So, right now, I personally couldn't give a damn what you do..." A twinkle lit up her eyes and she lightly skimmed a finger up his arm. "I just want your body."

Sam exhaled a heavy sigh and gave her a lopsided grin. "Sorry. I won't mention it again."

"Good. Now lie down on your stomach so I can give you one of Suzi's famous back rubs. You've gotten tense again..." She gave a quick glance down toward his lap. "...And in none of the right places."

Sam did as he was instructed. He sprawled across the mattress, arms splayed above his shoulders, left cheek resting on his hands, and waited. When several moments passed and nothing happened, he lifted his head to see what she was doing. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, removing her garter belt and stockings which she threw into a pile on top of her dress.

"I have some hangers if you want to hang that up," he offered and moved to get one.

"Just leave 'em, Beckett. A few wrinkles won't hurt anything." She climbed over him, planted her butt on the tops of his thighs and rested her hands in the middle of his back. "Now relax."

If he died right afterwards he would have known he'd already been to heaven when she started to adeptly manipulate his tight muscles. She kneaded them into submission, forcing them to loosen their grip. And her fingers plied such warmth that he wondered if she had some magical heating pad hidden underneath them. He groaned out loud at the sheer pleasure of it all.

"So, why did you really think I'd want to leave?" she asked without stopping. Hell, she couldn't have stopped if she'd wanted to. As innocent as it was, having her hands on him and feeling the strength of his body under her touch was just about one of the most erotic things she'd ever done.

"Everybody does."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know," he whispered more to himself than for her to hear.

"Did you get jilted eight years ago by someone and now, because of one person's actions, you can't trust anyone?"

"I didn't get jilted." His mind filled with images of a hot and humid summer in Cambridge spent with Nancy Holloway in her grandmother's house. "It was a summer romance thing. You know, warm temperatures and soaring hormones and, like the label implies, when summer ended so did it."

"Did you love her?" Suzi bit down on her tongue after that question slipped out. What business was it of hers if he'd loved his little summer fling or not? She didn't have a relationship with him. She was just a hooker, and for the first time, that appellation stung and she felt a rush of shame and a deep sense of longing all wrapped up by an illogical coil of jealousy. She hadn't been joking earlier when she'd told him she'd been waiting for him her whole life. But, beyond this night, they'd never be together again.

"No."

For some silly reason, that grip of dread around her heart released its hold. "Have you ever been in love?" she asked, holding her breath and hoping. What difference would it make and why was she insisting upon torturing herself?

"No. I think I've been in love with the idea of being in love but I've never really had the time; nor have I met the right woman." He paused and thought about the life of loneliness and isolation that he'd led for so long. "I'm starting to think I never will."

"Never will what? Have enough time or meet the right woman?"

"Probably both." He heaved a heavy sigh of resignation. He didn't understand what it was about this woman, this woman who carried enough burdens and disappointments herself, that made him feel compelled to share his deepest letdowns with her, but there was something. Maybe it was the fact that her lifestyle indicated the same kind of desperation that he felt. "Most people don't let me get close, let alone women."

"Why's that, Sam?" Suzi wasn't paying much attention to the massage any more, although her hands continued to move. She was more interested in her new role as a confidant, her maternal instinct to nurture and comfort taking over. "Do you do something that prevents people from getting close?"

"Not consciously...I don't think." He struggled to find the proper words to describe what had been happening to him ever since he'd left Elk Ridge. He pulled his right hand out from under his cheek to toy with a mattress button under the sheet. "I believe their first reaction to me is intimidation and they never try to get past that."

"What do you do to intimidate people?"

"Nothing." The response sounded like it had come from a child who had just been accused of doing something wrong, and even though guilty, was adamantly trying to deny it. But in this case, for the most part, the accused really was an innocent victim.

"Oh, come on, Sam. People don't keep others at arm's length for no reason. We're basically herd animals. We don't like to be alone and we usually don't like the idea of others being alone. You must do something that alienates them."

"That's the thing, though. I don't do anything." The frustration he'd experienced was starting to come out in his voice and his fingers as the button popped off between his thumb and forefinger. "It's as though the moment they hear my name they take an automatic step backward. Or, if they don't know my name, it doesn't take them long to figure it out."

"I'm definitely missing something here," Suzi admitted. "Figure what out?" She gave a particularly stiff muscle a hard squeeze which caused him to yelp out in pain. "Come on, Sam, quit making me play Twenty Questions. Blurt it out. This goes way beyond the problems of a software programmer."

He glanced over at the alarm clock that read eleven p.m., then told her everything. From the snubs his classmates hurled in his direction starting in grammar school and continuing at every institution of higher learning that he'd attended to the ostracizing he'd received from his peers, he recounted it all.

As she listened, the injustice gnawed at Suzi's conscience. All those foolish, idiotic people had been so threatened by his genius that they'd forgotten he had a heart. And because of their petty fears, they'd scarred a gentle and warm soul who wanted and needed acceptance more than he would or could admit.

Overwhelmed by a need to soothe away the hurt, she bent over and kissed the small mole on the left side of his back. Once contact was made, though, she lost her original directive and started to roam. Up near his neck, off to the side near his shoulder blade, down the length of his spine, she savored every square inch of him until she finally settled at the small of his back. While tonguing that alluring dip, she adjusted her position and her hands drifted from his sides, down past his hips to fondle the firm muscles of his buttocks.

He took in a huge lungful of air, exhaled it with a moan and for the umpteenth time, fought to shake off the doleful mood. "Just in case you're lost, I think I should tell you that's not my back any more," he informed her lightly.

"I'm not lost. I'm right where I want to be." She slid her mouth lower to follow the path her right hand had blazed and kept going downward, descending his leg meticulously until she reached his ankle where she ran smack into the rib at the top of his sock. Laughing to herself at the sight of this gloriously masculine, utterly sexy man sprawled out on the bed with only a pair of white athletic socks on, she planted her haunches down on the rug and tugged the right one off then lingered awhile to sip at the toes hanging over the bottom edge of the bed. "Turn over," she instructed.

Taking inventory of his putty-like muscles, he chuckled low in his chest. "I don't think I can," he mumbled.

She flicked a fingernail across the bottom of his foot, causing him to jump. "Roll over, Beethoven," she commanded.

"Okay, okay," he replied while doing as he was bid and added, once he was settled on his back, "You don't have to get violent."

Suzi laughed heartily. "My dear, haven't you figured out that violence is the last thing on my mind right now." And, climbing back onto the bed, she started working up his left leg.

After removing the second sock she ascended and tried to ignore the erection that was beckoning her. She couldn't do what she wanted to do, so instead, she lingered at his well-developed thigh and clamped her eyes shut, striving to drive the mental vision of taking him in her mouth from her mind. She shifted between his legs and, moving up to the apex, placed her lips on his scrotum and suckled his testicles. His body bucked in response.

Feeling his upper body move and hearing the tearing of foil, she pictured him putting on the condom then felt his hands in her hair. He bent at the waist and let his fingers walk down past her scalp, past her neck to her shoulders. Taking her under the arms, he pulled her up to the top of the bed next to him and, rolling slightly over her, kissed a shoulder then ran his tongue up the outline of her collarbone while tenderly rotating his palm over her turgid left nipple.

With no hesitation or coyness, Suzi lifted her right leg, wrapped her hand around his penis and started to direct him inside.

Sam teased her with the tip, testing her readiness and, fighting against her insistent writhing and her strengthening hold, grit his teeth, pulled back and did it again. He slid himself along the warm, moist folds, biting down on his lower lip, trying to gain control over his body that wanted nothing more than to sink into her, to fill her completely, but he wouldn't allow himself the pleasure. No matter how much his hormones protested, for her he was determined to last longer than ninety seconds.

Removing her hand from around him and pushing it away, he placed his fingertips on the hard bud and gently rotated, causing her squirms to become more demanding, more urgent. She moaned, tossed her head from side to side and called out words that ran together into unintelligible sentences. But when he heard her shout, "Goddamn you, Beckett," loud and clear, he smiled and plunged into her just as her muscles erupted into orgasm.

The sensation of her throbbing around him sent him into a frenzy of thrusts over which he had no control. Diving deeper and feeling her tighten around him, he lost the ability to differentiate between unfathomed pleasure and immeasurable pain. Over and over again, oblivious to all sense of the outside world, his brain ceased to function as he mindlessly reached for the pinnacle. And he finally achieved it when she contorted around, rolled her hand under his testicles and applied gentle pressure upward which caused his whole body to shudder. An instant later an ear-shattering bellow roared out of his lungs and he spontaneously exploded into an extended series of violent pulsations.

Thoughts other than how good he felt slowly returned to Sam. With them brought wonder and excitement mixed in with a little self-recrimination. Never before had he became so totally helpless to the effects of his baser animal instincts. During the few times he'd engaged in sex, he'd always experienced an element of detachment and had maintained his awareness of the outside world but, as he opened his eyes to see Suzanne gazing at him from above, he realized he could no longer make that claim. This enthralling woman had placed him under a spell to which he had no immunity.

"Hi," she whispered on lips curved into a smile that was tender and unfeigned.

Reaching out a finger, he lightly traced the outline of her ear, cheek and jaw. "Hi."

"Happy birthday, Sam." Her warm blue eyes shimmered with heartfelt emotion. "I hope you liked my present."

"Without a doubt, the best I've ever received." He lifted his lips to hers and gave her a winsome little kiss. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me." She draped herself across him, closed her eyes and listened as the rapid, steady thumping of his heart slowly returned to normal. "After all, you did share it with me."

She started to drift. Carried by the warmth and scent radiating from the solid, dampened body beneath her, her mind flowed with images of him and the heat began glowing from inside. And, as she reached the fringes of sleep, she lost the only inhibition left between them and unconsciously mouthed the words, "I love you."

Suzi was awakened at first light by window-rattling, teeth-chattering snores. For the span of several seconds, she had no idea where she was but the instant she became aware of the vibrating, sleeping form cuddled up behind her spoon-fashion with his arm draped over her, she remembered, and her emotions transmuted into flutters in her belly.

Sam.

She shut her eyes and saw his face on the inside of her eyelids as it had appeared at the moment of climax. Forehead etched by deep furrows, strained eyebrows cutting deep grooves between them, mouth set into a hard grimace, it was an expression caught somewhere between ecstasy and anguish. And while she had expected his lovemaking to be intense, she hadn't expected it to be that intense.

Her body started to hum from the memory, causing a responsive tingle in all the places where his skin made contact with hers. After several agonizing moments, she untangled herself from his hold and made her way to the bathroom.

Like the kitchen, but unlike the rest of the apartment, the bathroom was immaculate. The sink, although chipped near the drain, had been recently scrubbed and the chrome fixtures were devoid of even common waterspots. She smiled at the toilet seat that had been left in the upright position but forgave all when the bowl appeared spotless. Finally, she'd met a man who had his priorities straight. Too bad she couldn't keep him.

After relieving herself, she eyed the shower longingly then gave in to impulse and stepped under a steady stream of warm water. Once she was finished, she helped herself to his toothbrush and toothpaste, knowing that, on the heels of what they'd shared the night before, he wouldn't mind. She slowly brushed her teeth, staring at herself in the mirror over the sink, and was surprised by what she saw.

She looked years younger, closer to twenty-five than her actual thirty-five. The tension that had become a permanent feature of her mouth was gone, taking with it the stress lines that had radiated out from it. Her eyes appeared luminous and full of life, replacing the lackluster glare that had gazed back at her for so long it was hard to remember a time when it hadn't been there. She giggled to herself that she'd finally found the fountain of youth and he was sacked out, snoring in the other room.

Wanting more sleep, Suzi returned to the bed and saw that Sam had kicked off the sheet and was lolling spread-eagled across the entire mattress. She drank in the splendor of him before she rolled him over to both make room for herself and to stop the cacophony of snores, and snuggled up close to keep him from rolling back. Five minutes later a softer, more diminutive snuffling filled the room.

Warm hands, gentle caresses. A pleasing brush of something hot and wet against her left nipple, hardening it into a taut peak of straining flesh. Feeling suckling on one breast and kneading of the other, she arched herself toward the source and opened one eye to look.

She could tell that Sam was still half asleep. Even though he was aroused (and the evidence of that kept bumping into her thigh), there was no consciousness beneath those drooping eyelids. Like most men in the morning, he was powered solely by hormones. She settled back down, closed her eyes and gave in to the sensations the gifted mouth and fingertips were evoking.

His mouth had moved to a sensitive patch of skin below her breast and he teased it and the upward curve with his tongue, while his right hand firmly gripped her side where her hip began to curve and he expertly plied the soft skin between his fingers and thumb. Lowering his head, he grazed his lips downward, delivering soft, wet kisses along her ribs, across her whole belly and paused to deliver extra attention to her navel.

His hand shifted and enclosed the inside of her thigh in a powerful grasp before he started to massage the firm muscle, slowly working his way upward, clenching first then brushing lightly with his fingertips then clenching again. The effect triggered her to break out in goose bumps all over in anticipation of his next move.

When he smoothly positioned his face between her legs and placed his hands at the juncture of her limbs and torso, she started quivering. When his lips made contact high up on her left thigh and his thumbs boldly dipped into the nest of curls, her quivers turned into quakes. And when the warmth of his mouth connected with the tender folds she careened down a spiral of ultimate bliss that continued to build as his tongue impaled her then lapped at her hungrily while his fingers stroked her.

Suzi was turning into a compilation of screaming nerve endings, bucking and writhing under his touch, wanting more but not able to concentrate long enough to figure out exact what "more" was. Wave after wave of climaxes shook her to the core.

And then he stopped.

All movement ceased.

She waited.

She waited some more.

And comprehension slowly dawned.

"Damn it, Beckett," she admonished, quietly. "Why'd you have to wake up?"

"Huh?"

She lifted her head and met the most confused expression she ever seen stamped onto the most sensuous early-morning face she'd ever had the pleasure of awakening to. His lean cheeks were shadowed by a day's growth of heavy beard, his sleep-laden eyes were droopy but aware, his hair was showing the aftereffects of six hours on a pillow and his full lower lip was pooched forward into a small pout. There wasn't a man on the face of the earth who looked better.

"Good morning," she greeted him.

He mumbled something she couldn't understand, compressed his face into a grimace as he fought for control and began to move away.

"Oh no you don't, buster. You're not leaving me like this."

He stared at her intently and she was taken aback by the look of extreme pain.

Quickly recovering, she touched the tip of his nose. "Or yourself, Sam."

He pressed his lips to the inside of her thigh, rubbed his whiskers against it and paused. She watched his back rise as he took in a deep breath, then he exhaled it with a sigh and brought his knees up under him. Lifting his butt, he took her hips under his hands and, pivoting upward, rested his left, stubbly cheek on her lower belly. She lowered her head back down when he slowly, ever so slowly, began to scrape his face upward. He periodically rolled his mouth over to taste her skin but then returned again to the abrasive course until he reached the valley between her breasts where he sucked his way up the inside swell of her left breast. His lips latched onto her nipple and he gently rolled it between his teeth.

Suzi brought one of her hands around, glanced up the strong column of his neck and, tangling her fingers through the silken hair, pulled his face closer. Arching her back toward him, she prompted his mouth for more.

More. That's what she really wanted from this man. More of his time, more of his life, more of himself. She wanted to know everything about him. His ambitions, his favorite foods, if he'd had a dog when he was a kid. Everything. But that was impossible. She had her path to follow and he had his and, after these few hours together, they would branch off in totally different directions.

As he entered her for what she knew would be the last time, she squeezed her eyes shut to control the tears that threatened to spill. And, as he started to move, slowly, deeply, she fantasized about what her life could have been if she'd found a man like this instead of the compassionless and indifferent mate she had settled for. She wrapped her arms more tightly around his back and her legs more firmly around his hips and clung to him, answered his thrusts and held on for dear life.

It doesn't matter, she thought as her pelvis rose to meet him again. I have this and this is all I need. She clenched her body around him, grabbed his buttocks and forced him into a place that had never been reached before. Her heart. The words she had unconsciously spoken as she'd drifted off to sleep came back to her and her heart overflowed with a completely different kind of love than she felt for her children, a love she thought she would never feel. Wrapping a protective bow around it for safekeeping, she tucked it away and catalogued the spot so she could bring it out whenever things got unbearable again.

The realization that she'd now had a taste of how it should be brought her sudden joy and her body responded by bursting into a million glittering shards, wave after wave carrying her to yet another place she'd never been before. Then his body went rigid. He lunged into her one last time and she felt, with a gasp, the warmth of his semen surging deep within her.

Suzi experienced a flicker of panic but it quickly passed. She'd broken the cardinal rule, knew she should be concerned but she wasn't. That very lack of concern drove home the fact that, after Sam, she no longer needed that old lifestyle. He had given her something she'd been looking for her whole life and even knowing that she had nothing tangible to cling to, it was enough. Dr. Samuel Beckett had profoundly altered her present course. There was no longer a reason to travel down the road of futile pursuits.

His weight bearing down on her brought her back to the here and now. Opening her eyes, she saw the warm hazel-green gaze looking back at her and noticed that the lines of tension in his forehead, so prevalent the night before in the bar, were gone. The smile that curved up the corners of his mouth was open and honest and relaxed. She'd set out to wipe off a look of despair and had been rewarded with a new take on life. She doubted he'd been as deeply affected but hoped they had both benefited from this brief interlude.

"I have to go," she announced.

She saw his head dip as though he was reaching for a breath to protest but it never developed. Instead, he sighed audibly and rolled off of her.

Knowing he was watching her, she bent over, picked up her crumpled clothes from the floor and toyed with the idea of another shower. The idea was quickly dashed when she realized that as long as the smell of him clung to her body she could hold on to her fantasy.

"Will I see you again?" he asked tremulously.

"I don't think so, Sam," she replied without facing him, afraid he would see the tears that filled her lower lids and threatened to spill over. "I have my family to go back to and you're moving to Washington, D.C. Remember?" He didn't answer and she wished she could know what he was thinking.

As she brought the dress down over her head, she used the material to wipe her eyes and lectured herself about how she didn't want him to see that she was crying. She was determined to play the happy hooker until she walked out the door so, knowing when she heard the bed creak under his weight that he was going to come to her, she swallowed a sob, reined in her emotions and finished dressing.

"'You okay, Suz?"

She heard compassion in his tone and felt it seep out of his hands when he placed them on her shoulders. "Of course," she answered flippantly and swiveled around, making sure to paste a smile on her face. "Why wouldn't I be? After a night of hot and horny, lustful sex?" And falling in love for the first time in my life? "What more could a girl ask for?"

"How 'bout a hug?" he probed tenderly and, without waiting for a reply, encircled her with his arms and pulled her close.

Suzanne melted into the strength of him, pressed her ear against the solid wall of his chest and listened to the rhythmic thump, thump, thump of his heart. She felt safe and protected and yes, even loved for the first time ever. She would cherish this moment more than any of the others. This fleeting second of time had given meaning to her life, a purpose for her existence and he would never know the impact he had made.

Taking a deep breath of air, she pulled herself out of his embrace and glanced her lips across his cheek. "Thanks, I needed that," she said lightly but meant it with all her heart.

Turning to leave, her eyes fell to the pile of condoms she'd dropped near the front door. She walked over, scooped them up and held them out to Sam. "Do you want these?"

She watched the blush spread over his face and reveled in it. She hoped this man would
find someone who would treasure him as much as she did.

"Uh...no. Don't you need them?"

"Not anymore," Suzi answered and, fighting the urgent need to go back to him, casually dropped them in the wastebasket on her way out.