were small too, like a young girl’s.
“Oh, c’mon.”
“Really. Put your head here.”
“Now, look…”
“Please?”
Sighing again, giving her a look that he hoped clearly conveyed his irritation, he leaned over and pressed his ear against her chest.
Nothing.
“Well?” she said, as he pulled his head back.
“Well, what? I don’t know. Do you feel all right?”
“Mitchell, I don’t have a pulse. My heart’s not beating.”
“Of course your heart’s beating. You wouldn’t be sitting there talking to me if it wasn’t. Do you feel all right or not?”
She scowled, chewing her lower lip. “I’m not sure. I feel okay, I guess. A little…weird, somehow. Something happened last night. I got up to pee and…something happened. It felt like my insides were coming loose. But just for a minute. Then it passed. I came back to bed. I even slept for a while. When I woke again I felt…just…weird.”
“Well, there you go. You’re probably sick or something.”
“That wouldn’t make my heart stop.”
“It hasn’t stopped,” he insisted. “That’s crazy. But maybe it’s weak or something. Maybe that’s why we can’t find the pulse. You should probably see a doctor,” he said with concern in his voice, though he felt no real concern at all.
“Probably,” she said thoughtfully, not looking at him.
“I have to be at work at eleven,” he said, glancing at the clock. He had plenty of time—the store was a five-minute walk from the apartment—but he really wanted to be rid of this girl, whatever her name was. “Time for some coffee, if you want it. Maybe we could make a couple of eggs before you go.”
She glanced quickly at him, smiled weakly. “Okay.”
He tried to mask his disappointment. He should have figured that she wouldn’t recognize a meaningless courtesy offer when she heard one. Well, he would have made coffee for himself anyway, and it wouldn’t kill him to fry her an egg. It was a strange thing. Who knows, she really might be sick.
Nude, he stood and made his way to the kitchen. He liked the feeling of walking naked in front of a girl the next morning. He would usually hold off putting on clothes as long as he could. He worked out at the Gold’s Gym off Wisconsin Avenue three times a week and was proud of his body, with good reason—lots of thirty-year-old guys had begun to let themselves go, but not Mitchell Noone. And he’d found that putting on clothing tended to end the event between himself and the girl, where if he stayed nude sometimes a quick morning romp might still occur. Not that he was sure that he would want to, with this girl. But if she were willing to have a final fast fuck, he’d be willing to let her stay long enough to do it. Let her earn her eggs and coffee.
When he had the percolator going he moved back to the bedroom again. “Hey,” he started to ask, “how did you want your eggs—?”
She was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, arms around herself, shivering. In a moment he realized she was crying too, quietly, thin trickles of tears running down her cheek.
Aw shit, he thought.
“Coffee will be ready in a few,” he said, trying to sound casual, hoping she would take the hint and stop. “Listen, how did you want your eggs? I can scramble ’em, fry ’em…I guess that’s about it. I suppose I could hard-boil ’em if you want.”
She looked at him, her eyes red and ringed with tears.
“I’m scared, Mitchell.”
He shook his head, tried to smile. “I told you not to worry about it. You’ve probably got some virus or something. Just see a doctor, that’s all. You seem to be fine except for that.”
“Except for my not having a pulse.”
“Yeah, that.” He shrugged. “C’mon, you’ll feel better after some breakfast.” He sat down next to her, placed his arm around her. Her body seemed to melt into his, her head falling against his shoulder. “Don’t cry...honey.”
“Jane,” she
“Oh, c’mon.”
“Really. Put your head here.”
“Now, look…”
“Please?”
Sighing again, giving her a look that he hoped clearly conveyed his irritation, he leaned over and pressed his ear against her chest.
Nothing.
“Well?” she said, as he pulled his head back.
“Well, what? I don’t know. Do you feel all right?”
“Mitchell, I don’t have a pulse. My heart’s not beating.”
“Of course your heart’s beating. You wouldn’t be sitting there talking to me if it wasn’t. Do you feel all right or not?”
She scowled, chewing her lower lip. “I’m not sure. I feel okay, I guess. A little…weird, somehow. Something happened last night. I got up to pee and…something happened. It felt like my insides were coming loose. But just for a minute. Then it passed. I came back to bed. I even slept for a while. When I woke again I felt…just…weird.”
“Well, there you go. You’re probably sick or something.”
“That wouldn’t make my heart stop.”
“It hasn’t stopped,” he insisted. “That’s crazy. But maybe it’s weak or something. Maybe that’s why we can’t find the pulse. You should probably see a doctor,” he said with concern in his voice, though he felt no real concern at all.
“Probably,” she said thoughtfully, not looking at him.
“I have to be at work at eleven,” he said, glancing at the clock. He had plenty of time—the store was a five-minute walk from the apartment—but he really wanted to be rid of this girl, whatever her name was. “Time for some coffee, if you want it. Maybe we could make a couple of eggs before you go.”
She glanced quickly at him, smiled weakly. “Okay.”
He tried to mask his disappointment. He should have figured that she wouldn’t recognize a meaningless courtesy offer when she heard one. Well, he would have made coffee for himself anyway, and it wouldn’t kill him to fry her an egg. It was a strange thing. Who knows, she really might be sick.
Nude, he stood and made his way to the kitchen. He liked the feeling of walking naked in front of a girl the next morning. He would usually hold off putting on clothes as long as he could. He worked out at the Gold’s Gym off Wisconsin Avenue three times a week and was proud of his body, with good reason—lots of thirty-year-old guys had begun to let themselves go, but not Mitchell Noone. And he’d found that putting on clothing tended to end the event between himself and the girl, where if he stayed nude sometimes a quick morning romp might still occur. Not that he was sure that he would want to, with this girl. But if she were willing to have a final fast fuck, he’d be willing to let her stay long enough to do it. Let her earn her eggs and coffee.
When he had the percolator going he moved back to the bedroom again. “Hey,” he started to ask, “how did you want your eggs—?”
She was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, arms around herself, shivering. In a moment he realized she was crying too, quietly, thin trickles of tears running down her cheek.
Aw shit, he thought.
“Coffee will be ready in a few,” he said, trying to sound casual, hoping she would take the hint and stop. “Listen, how did you want your eggs? I can scramble ’em, fry ’em…I guess that’s about it. I suppose I could hard-boil ’em if you want.”
She looked at him, her eyes red and ringed with tears.
“I’m scared, Mitchell.”
He shook his head, tried to smile. “I told you not to worry about it. You’ve probably got some virus or something. Just see a doctor, that’s all. You seem to be fine except for that.”
“Except for my not having a pulse.”
“Yeah, that.” He shrugged. “C’mon, you’ll feel better after some breakfast.” He sat down next to her, placed his arm around her. Her body seemed to melt into his, her head falling against his shoulder. “Don’t cry...honey.”
“Jane,” she
Similar Books
