even a fraction, she would realize he had a hard-on.
"You have to pull the slider before you can insert the clip,” he said, hoping that the ear protection would disguise the sudden hoarseness in his voice.
She grappled with the gun. “I can't do it. It's too stiff."
He did it for her, taking the opportunity to put more space between their bodies.
"How do I insert the clip?"
He instructed her. She fumbled with the clip, dropped it, then quickly picked it up again. He watched, mesmerized by the way she moved. Her knees hardly bent at all. She simply folded her body gracefully at the waist and swooped down with one arm. The sight of her rounded butt straining against the fabric was driving him insane, and a small suspicion began to form in his mind that she was doing it on purpose. He'd never got the impression that Georgina was clumsy.
He clicked the clip into place. “Press this button,” he told her.
The slider moved, and the weapon was engaged.
"Switch the safety to ‘off’ position, and you're ready to fire."
"I don't like this gun,” Georgina complained.
He stared at her, fighting to keep his temper in check. “What is there to like or dislike?"
"I don't like the way it bucked in my hand when I pressed the button, and I don't like the way it looks. All black and lethal. Can I try the other one?"
"You haven't even fired a single shot yet."
"I don't have to fire it to know that I don't like it."
"Jesus.” He yanked the weapon from her hand, pushed the safety on, and ejected the clip. Then he thought better of it. “Stand back. Stay behind me.” He rammed the clip back, engaged it, turned off the safety and blasted thirteen rounds into the head of the cardboard man at the end of the lane.
"Way to go, buddy,” someone shouted from the next lane. “They should make the targets woman-shaped."
* * * *
Georgina glared at the partition that stood between them and the lane on their left. The dividing wall didn't go all the way up to the ceiling. She wanted to toss something over the top, something dirty and smelly and slimy. Then she shrieked and jumped in the air, because the loud-mouthed man in the next lane had tossed something over the wall at her.
Rick's hand came down soothingly over her arm. “It was just an empty shell,” he told her. “They bounce around a bit.” He ejected the clip and handed it to her. “Can you put that on the table next to the case?"
"There's a trashcan in the corner,” she said. “We can dump it there."
He gave her grin. “The clips are not disposable. They are thirty bucks apiece. They are refilled, and used over and over again."
"Oh? On the telly they just chuck them over their shoulder."
He pointed at the empty clip. “That's on TV. Anyway, you couldn't chuck this. It's a police clip."
"What does that mean?"
"It holds thirteen rounds. Civilian clips hold ten. In most states it's illegal to possess a police clip unless you're in law enforcement."
"Oh? Why's that?"
"It's nice if the good guys have a few shots left after the bad guys have run out."
Georgina found the smile that accompanied the explanation somewhat condescending, but she allowed him his little jibe. “Can I see the other gun?” she asked.
She could tell that Rick was about to roll his eyes, but thought better of it and stopped himself just in time. “Sure,” he said through clenched teeth. “Let's find out if you like that one better."
Georgina watched Rick as he went over to the shelf at the end of the lane and put the first gun away in the plastic case. His movements were smooth and confident. Today he wore dark grey combat pants rather than jeans. The pockets on the side of his thighs were dragged down with the weight of the boxes of bullets.
When he strode back, he held a slightly larger gun. It was in shiny silver, instead of matte black.
"Oh yes,” she said breezily. “This one is a lot better."
He cocked an eyebrow at her, but refrained from commenting. “This one is a
"You have to pull the slider before you can insert the clip,” he said, hoping that the ear protection would disguise the sudden hoarseness in his voice.
She grappled with the gun. “I can't do it. It's too stiff."
He did it for her, taking the opportunity to put more space between their bodies.
"How do I insert the clip?"
He instructed her. She fumbled with the clip, dropped it, then quickly picked it up again. He watched, mesmerized by the way she moved. Her knees hardly bent at all. She simply folded her body gracefully at the waist and swooped down with one arm. The sight of her rounded butt straining against the fabric was driving him insane, and a small suspicion began to form in his mind that she was doing it on purpose. He'd never got the impression that Georgina was clumsy.
He clicked the clip into place. “Press this button,” he told her.
The slider moved, and the weapon was engaged.
"Switch the safety to ‘off’ position, and you're ready to fire."
"I don't like this gun,” Georgina complained.
He stared at her, fighting to keep his temper in check. “What is there to like or dislike?"
"I don't like the way it bucked in my hand when I pressed the button, and I don't like the way it looks. All black and lethal. Can I try the other one?"
"You haven't even fired a single shot yet."
"I don't have to fire it to know that I don't like it."
"Jesus.” He yanked the weapon from her hand, pushed the safety on, and ejected the clip. Then he thought better of it. “Stand back. Stay behind me.” He rammed the clip back, engaged it, turned off the safety and blasted thirteen rounds into the head of the cardboard man at the end of the lane.
"Way to go, buddy,” someone shouted from the next lane. “They should make the targets woman-shaped."
* * * *
Georgina glared at the partition that stood between them and the lane on their left. The dividing wall didn't go all the way up to the ceiling. She wanted to toss something over the top, something dirty and smelly and slimy. Then she shrieked and jumped in the air, because the loud-mouthed man in the next lane had tossed something over the wall at her.
Rick's hand came down soothingly over her arm. “It was just an empty shell,” he told her. “They bounce around a bit.” He ejected the clip and handed it to her. “Can you put that on the table next to the case?"
"There's a trashcan in the corner,” she said. “We can dump it there."
He gave her grin. “The clips are not disposable. They are thirty bucks apiece. They are refilled, and used over and over again."
"Oh? On the telly they just chuck them over their shoulder."
He pointed at the empty clip. “That's on TV. Anyway, you couldn't chuck this. It's a police clip."
"What does that mean?"
"It holds thirteen rounds. Civilian clips hold ten. In most states it's illegal to possess a police clip unless you're in law enforcement."
"Oh? Why's that?"
"It's nice if the good guys have a few shots left after the bad guys have run out."
Georgina found the smile that accompanied the explanation somewhat condescending, but she allowed him his little jibe. “Can I see the other gun?” she asked.
She could tell that Rick was about to roll his eyes, but thought better of it and stopped himself just in time. “Sure,” he said through clenched teeth. “Let's find out if you like that one better."
Georgina watched Rick as he went over to the shelf at the end of the lane and put the first gun away in the plastic case. His movements were smooth and confident. Today he wore dark grey combat pants rather than jeans. The pockets on the side of his thighs were dragged down with the weight of the boxes of bullets.
When he strode back, he held a slightly larger gun. It was in shiny silver, instead of matte black.
"Oh yes,” she said breezily. “This one is a lot better."
He cocked an eyebrow at her, but refrained from commenting. “This one is a
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