At first she said nothing but when he tried to rise, she grabbed his wrist and held it, her long nails cutting into his flesh. Then she whispered, "It's all right. I know what men want."
While he possessed sufficient strength to pull away, he was fearful of hurting her, and even more so, of her crying out. "Please, Edith. I know you're upset, but this doesn't answer anything. It's wrong, for both of us."
"Make love to me," she said with a huskiness that made Dean feel if he could clearly see her there would be a coldness in her eyes, like a winter mountain wind. "And don't make a sound," she added, in a higher voice that hinted of her ability to bring the other guests a-running.
He tried another tack. "You're being unfair to me, Edith. I love Cynthia and I don't want to cheat on her. If anyone sees us together like this, I'm done. You don't have any reason to hurt me like that, do you?"
"The police know about us," she whispered.
"Edith, there isn't an us. Please."
"He's going to stay with her. They're getting married." She began to cry.
"Look," he said, his frustration growing. "I know you don't know where to turn but there are places that help with problems like yours. You have the whole rest of your life to live."
"I'm pregnant." She said it with a sad finality, like someone admitting to having a terminal disease.
"Yes, but your husband...."
"I wanted to kill him. He knows I hate him. They let him fly back to Virginia. He's gone. I can't even go back to him."
She rolled away from him and released his arm. He sat up and started to rise. "No!" she said, in a voice Dean thought loud enough to wake the house. He tried to put his hand over her mouth but she pulled away. "Don't leave me. Lie back down." The tone was not as loud as before, but near a snarl. He hesitated but remained half sitting on the edge of the bed. "I don't want to be alone," she continued. "If you make me leave, I'll scream. I swear to God I will!" He laid back down, leaving a space between them. She turned her back to him. The headlights of a slow moving car washed her white body, shadowing the curve of her buttocks, the roundness of her shoulder, painting her golden hair in its light. "I'm Annie," she spoke, her whore-voice quieter now. "You can do anything you want to-things you wouldn't do at home." She turned and in one motion straddled him, pinning his arms above his head, the heat of her body pressed against him. "I'm worthless. It will mean nothing to me. I'm just here to please you- Joshua. We can be together, always. We can leave Ouray, leave your wife behind. She has her life-we can have ours. I'll be good, so good for you." She paused. "You don't have to pay me the two dollars." She moved down to press her face to his.