Cemetery Street

"History doesn't remember well-behaved women," Genise said matter-of-factly.

"Where did you get that from?" I turned quickly, studying Genise's face. A half dozen or so freckles dotted each cheek. I never noticed them before.

Genise peered down, studying my eyes. A moment of silence settled between us. "Shannie," Genise uttered, breaking the spell.

"What about her?" I asked.

"I got the saying from her. She had the bumper sticker on her car."

"Oh," I mumbled beneath my stare.

"Shit! The stir-fry."

My eyes followed Genise across the kitchen. I felt horrible betraying Shannie. Don't wimp out, I told myself. I'm not walking out on Genise - a deal is a deal. I came here to get laid and I'm going to get laid! I'm going to hate myself. So I may as well get a little ass.

Throughout diner, Genise and I were civil. We didn't bring up Shannie or our deal. Thank God for the photo albums or we wouldn't have anything to talk about.

"I'll wash, you dry," Genise said when we finished eating.

"Deal," I answered.

Tension seeped over us like globs of maple syrup as we stood at the kitchen sink. Genise's movements were tense, as if she was expecting my move any second. I focused drying each dish, wary she'd have a change of heart and break a plate over my head. I enjoyed the uncertainty. My paranoia aided the tension. How I would explain a run in with Genise's flying Corningware? I hid my sweaty palms behind the dishtowel.

Then it happened. With the suddenness and intensity of igniting gasoline. The trigger, an innocent brush of arms. I hated Genise could produce such a reaction. I hated not being able to control my reaction. I hated not being able to control Genise.

We broke a dish, but it wasn't over either of our heads. As I pulled Genise to me, she dropped the plate in her hand. Her lips sought mine. She was softer than she looked. Our lips locked, my hands ran under her arms, down her sides and over her hips. I squeezed her ass. A marshmallow in an athlete's body, I thought.

She crushed her breasts against me. Our tongues crossed in a race for the other. I submitted to her probing tongue. I ran my hands upward, squeezing her shirt clad breasts.

She withdrew her tongue and threw her head back. I reached around her waist helping her maintain her balance. Genise thrust her hips into mine, rubbing her pelvis against mine. "Fuck me," she ordered.