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“They didn’t have enough power to stop the kidnapping,” I said. “I guess none of us is safe.” I thought of Bobby Hamid: None of us in the world…
“Do you believe in justice, David?” She raised up and looked at me. Her eyes were bright with imagined starlight.
“I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t.” Women were asking me about justice this week.
“I mean real justice.”
I thought about that. I said something lame. Something egghead-stupid about fallible human institutions, the rule of law, and the razor edge between justice and vengeance.
“I believe in vengeance,” she said, a catch in her throat. “Don’t you, really?”
Before I could answer, she had me on my back and was pulling my clothes off. Then she straddled me, guiding me inside her with one sure move.
“Come here, my cactus heart.”
“What?” I was into more than hearing at that moment.
“You know what I mean.”
She rode me gently, an achingly tight sensation coursing up from my groin. She still had on the cocktail dress. I moaned and stroked her smooth knees and forgot about thinking.
“Could you ever love me like you do Lindsey?” she whispered.
“I…” She slid down on me with a twisting motion.
“Don’t lie to me, David.”
“You feel so goddamned good,” I gasped.
“That’s better.” She kissed my chest, circled my nipples with her tongue.
“You have just the right amount of chest hair,” she said. She rode me slowly, then fast and deep, tossing back her head, brushing that straight, fine hair against her shoulder blades.
“I love to play with you,” she said, slowing down again.
“I love to play with you.”
“I believe you,” she smiled, her white teeth gleaming in the half-dark.
She moved up and down, met my stroke, tensed and released. I grasped her hips, syncopated our movements.
“I want you to love me, David,” she said, quickening her pace a bit. I reached up and caressed her breasts through the fabric of the dress.
“Don’t be afraid. Don’t you see what kind of life we could have together?” She put her hands hard against my chest for purchase and moved against me with more urgency. My God, what a feeling!
The fire popped. “I want your heart.” She was breathing faster. “The heart you hide behind all those books and thoughts. You keep it from me right now.” She gasped and shuddered. Then, “It has thorns around it because you’ve been hurt before, and you are very conflicted now. I can feel that. You hold back.
“But I know it’s a good heart, like mine is a good heart…” She giggled. “Goodheart.”
She moved faster, an irresistible rhythm. Lucinda Williams sang “Right in Time.”
“I want you to come back to me when this is all over, and let me in David’s cactus heart…”
“Gretchen…”
“I love the way you say my name!” A moaned anthem. “I love you, David!”
I knew I was too far gone. I was ready to say anything. And I did.
