Billy...Billy...

Last night at Deb's house...

Deb awoke to the blast of the front door crashing against the wall.  Animals
leapt to their feet in vocal protest, but were stopped instantly at the all
too familiar sound of "Shut the hell up!" that emanated from the living
room.  The walls of the house shook again as the door slammed shut and the
lock slammed home.
Deb staggered out of bed and started down the hall, but she only got to the
entrance of the bedroom before Bill's frame filled the doorway.
"What the...?"
"Where's the diaper brigade?" Bill demanded.
"Still with Jacob T." Deb replied sleepily.  "I keep telling
myself
I'm gonna pick 'em up before they get booted out of school for lack of
attendance.  Never mind that.  How the hell did you get here so fast?  You
just emailed me from Lubbock this afternoon."
"Know a man with a plane.  Paid him to fly me up here, sit around for a few
hours and fly me back."
"Well, zip-a-dee-doo-dah for you.  It's," Deb glanced back at the
luminescent numbers on her nightstand clock.  "Good.  It's one o'clock in
the mornin'!  What the hell you want?!"
"You."
With one arm he grabbed her roughly around the waist and
lifted her
up until their eyes met level.  He turned, thudding her back against the
bedroom door.  She wrapped her legs around his waist.  He supported her with
his left arm while he slipped his right hand under her thin t-shirt, inside
the waistband of her panties, caressing the small of her back.  He pressed
his mouth against hers, and she accepted instantly.  His tongue probed
farther and farther into her mouth until she thought he would force her
through the door, through the wall, and through the 2x4 framework.
She pressed her hands against his chest and then slid them up, under his
heavy leather jacket, until she gripped the thick muscle between his neck
and shoulders.  He bit her lightly on the lower lip.  She let out a soft
moan.

All the pets had retreated to safety behind the living room couch, away from
the unearthly noises that shattered the stillness of the night.  Deb lay in
bed, the sheet wetly clinging to her, the bedspread long since lost in the
fray.  Bill beside her, sweat still beaded on his forehead, his lip, his
chest, was slowly losing the battle of consciousness.  But he had one more
point to drive home before his evening was finished.
"Don't.  You.  Ever.  Leave me."
Deb had heard the macho swagger before.  It mostly sounded
empty. 
She was getting tired of it.
"Why?" she sighed discontentedly.
His sudden movement startled her.  His face now inches from
her own. 
His eyes burning and lucid.  His voice was a hoarse whisper.
" 'Cause I'll die if you do."
As he laid his head on her chest, his long hair still wet
from sweat
laying in stands across her skin, as he drifted off to sleep, Deb began to
wonder just what had happened there tonight.

"Beth Franklin", 1998

Amazing, the things Billy tells her...

I wandered around the house for at least ten minutes in a daze before
remembering that I was expected at work.  Who cared about work?  I wanted
to stay home and lie in my trashed bed, reliving the night before.  Instead
I stood in the downstairs bathroom in front of the steamy mirror, inspecting
every tiny bruise and bite mark.  Billy was no overt gentleman, and he did
not approach lovemaking diplomatically.  Each mark on me, then, was an
expression of where his head was.  I could hear his voice - ordering this 
move and demanding that sort of touch - and then committing himself to me
the only way he knew how to.  He would never send flowers, though he might
grab a handful from a flowerbed in the park if it occurred to him.  He
would never dedicate a song on Beth's webpage unless it was 'Tube Snake
Boogie' but as much of Billy as there was to have was, by his own admission,
mine.

After work I flew to Lubbock, using a credit card of Billy's in the name
of W.R. Gaerity to pay for my flight.  I didn't go to chase - nothing would
drive him away faster - but to see the pretty new furniture Beth had picked
out and Billy had bought, and to see the hot tub.  This last, nearly 
ten thousand dollars for the wiring, electrical and tub itself, plus more 
for remodeling of the house, expansion of the deck and relandscaping of the
firing range of a back yard, was going to get a response.  I wanted to see
just what kind.

I had to take a cab to Billy's house and, rather than go on in, I simply
wandered up through the side yard and around the back.  If I went inside
I would be tempted to crawl in bed beside him and that would wake him up.
As much as I had come to adore Billy, I still had no desire to be within
reach when he saw that we had put yet another one over on him.  I was in
love, not suicidal, and if my Billy was asleep I wasn't bound to wake him
up.  I saw immediately that the tub was in - filled, chemically treated and
heating nicely, also that it had an occupant.

Deb:  Ryan??

Ryan:  I had no idea William intended to have one of these lovely things
installed.  So relaxin', come on in, the water's perfect.

Deb:  You twerp!  

I had hoped that Billy and I, once he got over his temper, would initiate
the new tub.  Instead Ryan was lounging back in the water, nasty sunglasses
planted over his eyes, sighing luxuriously.  It was as though he had paid to
have the tub put in himself.

Billy:  Hey, punk, what-

Billy stepped through the patio door, tripped over the hot tub he hadn't
been expecting, and went right over the side, headfirst into the gently
bubbling water.

Ryan:  Hey, you clumsy ass, watch yourself!

Billy surfaced, arms flailing, sputtering, bluing the air about his
sleekly wet head with a series of horrible curses.  His eyes locked on me.
He attempted to stand up, but the combination of slippery plastic interior
and Ryan doing his best to sucker-punch Billy in the kidneys sent him into 
the drink again.

Billy:  Turn me loose, jackoff!

Ryan:  Dive in on my head, what d'ye expect me t'do?  Give you a kiss?

Billy:  No, I expect you to hold still so I can punch you in the goddam 
mouth.  You, Punk...

Deb:  Later!

Probably I was within an inch or two of total dismemberment, but the
fact that Billy was floundering around in the hot tub like Flipper on a
three day bat was what saved me, that and the fact that he was trying to
punch Ryan out as well as get to his feet and out of the tub to corner me.
Billy was busier than a one legged man in an ass-kicking contest, and he 
just couldn't do it all at once.  I reacted instantly to his icy stare and
the military tone of his voice, turned tail and ran.  I shouldn't have
been able to, he was wearing a pair of snug black boxer briefs that would
have killed me bone dry, let along wet and glued to his marvelous hips.
But if I had learned anything from being with Billy it was that I needed to
be able to react to his mind as well as his body.  I shot through the front
door, into the garage and locked myself inside the Expedition just as he
thundered in through the service door.  He flung himself up on the hood of
the truck, but his bad wet self and the high-gloss wax job on the truck
combined to send him slithering off as I backed out of the garage.

I hid the truck on a side street a couple of blocks from Beth's and
staggered to her apartment.  By that point I had such a case of the hopeless
giggles that I despaired of ever explaining my presence.  Billy, scrambling
to get his footing on the molded plastic bottom of the tub, splashing back
down, struggling comically with Ryan and sundering the quiet suburban air
with hideous profanities had been just about enough to do me in.

Beth:  What in hell's wrong with you?

Deb:  Billy...hot tub...

Beth:  He find it?

Deb:  Big clod fell in it.

Beth:  Oh no.  I wish I'd seen it.  Get in here.  Where's your truck?

I gestured in a vaguely westerly direction.  He wouldn't be fooled for
long, but it might buy me some time.

Beth:  Did Billy say anything to you?

I knew what she meant.

Deb:  As much as he's liable to.  The way it came out...it's enough.
Having spoken the way he did, if he keeps on physically...there won't ever
be any question.

Beth:  And you're totally obsessed.  What's that on the underside of your
arm...and there's one on your neck...he BITING you?  You LIKE that?

Deb:  Go figure.

Beth:  I can't.  He bit me one too many times...one of the reasons I told
him to take a hike.  You LIKE being gnawed on...so...I saw the hot tub 
myself.  I can't wait to get Sam into it.  You gonna help me?

Deb:  You know it.

Beth:  So what happened to punk-boy?

Deb:  Must have heard me somehow - I was squawking at Ryan...

Beth:  I didn't know HE was back in town.

Deb:  Back in town and parked in our hot tub like King Shit of Turd 
Mountain.  Billy tried to come out the patio door, but the tub has to sit 
in front of it because of the waterline.  So he opened the door and went
headfirst into the water, knocked Ryan for a loop while he was at it.
Cuss?  Mad??  Migod!  I beat feet out of there and managed to get to the
truck before he got to me.

Beth:  He'll kill you...and you'll let him.

Deb:  What a way to die.  You goin' someplace?  Looks like you're packing.

Beth:  Going to St Paul, as a matter of fact.  Sam wants to show me the
cabin he bought for us.

We both burst into more snickering laughter.  I had given Sam more
grief about that purchase agreement...right up until he walked into my
jobsite, blew past the receptionist and dragged me outside to paddle my
rearend.  But I swallowed any urges I had to laugh.

Deb:  Beth...you'll love it.  Whoever built it really put a lot of care
and affection into it...you and Sam could go inside and shut the door and
never come out again. It's the sweetest little cabin I've ever seen.  You
are so lucky.  What a man you've got.

Billy:  Open up that damn door, pipsqueak!

Deb:  Then there's mine.

Beth:  In the bedroom, under the bed.  I'll stall him and you can go out 
the bedroom window - it's not that far down.  Got a will made out?  We can
postpone the inevitable.  Hurry up!

Billy:  Give 'er up, pipsqueak!  I know you're in there, punk!

The door shook loosely in the frame, but didn't budge.  Yet.

Deb:  Look at that!

Beth:  Sam hung a deadbolt last time he fixed it.

Deb:  Good thinking.  You can tell he's a cop.  You suppose Billy can hear
me?

A barrage of blows landed on the door, echoing up and down the hall and
threatening to crack the frame entirely.

Beth:  Sounds like it.

Billy:  Deb, you get out here right the hell now!!

Deb:  Not on your life, dude.

Beth:  Go, now!

Billy:  You get your ass out here right this friggin' minute, woman!

I made the sign of the evil eye at the door, then sprinted quietly down
the hall.  I rolled under the bed just as I heard Beth take the deadbolt
off and the door fly open.  Billy never made a subdued entrance.  I had to
share space under the bed with a truly disreputable looking pair of shoes
that were both too big and too malodorous to belong to Beth.  It was a
more fragrant hiding place than I'd expected, and I didn't last long before
I had to bail out the window.  Being the ultra athletic sort, I naturally
jammed my ankle when I hit the ground, but I hobbled off toward the truck
just the same.

Sam:  Well, what do you know, if it's not my secretary.  Come on inside,
you can take some dictation.

Deb:  Sam, man, take it easy, ow!

Sam:  Don't tell me your ass still hurts.

Deb:  Never mind my ass, I sprained my ankle jumping out the damn window
tryin' to get away from your damn shoes!  God, stink!  You ever heard of
Dr. Scholls?

Sam hoisted me to his hip and lugged me like a sack of laundry to Beth's 
door.  Hearing the ruckus inside made Sam concerned for Beth, so he got us
inside and dropped me down to step over beside her.  I yelled and almost
fell, and was gratified to see Billy go completely postal, certifiably nuts.
But I didn't want to see a fistfight, so I lurched over to Billy, wrapped
my arms around his waist, dug in and hung on.

Beth:  Hey, I'm impressed.  She might be able to slow him down a little.

Billy:  What'd he do to your foot?

Deb:  Nothing.  I did it.  I fell down because I'm a clod.

Billy:  What the hell's that damn horsetrough in my back yard for?

Deb:  I thought you might like it...it's a place for us to play.

Billy:  Play?

Sam:  Voice sounds pretty thick to me.

Deb:  Yeah.  Just us...and we can do anything we want.  What do you say?

Billy:  Let's go...play.  Now.

Deb:  Have a nice trip, you two.

Beth:  Don't play too hard.

Billy:  No such thing as playin' too hard.

To my intense delight, Billy decided I'd sustained too grievous a
wound to walk.  He swung me up in his arms and we left Beth with Sam,
while we headed for our own private playground.

TO BE CONTINUED...