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She
made
no
answer
,
just
pushed
him
onto
his
back
and
,
in
one
lithe
movement
,
straddled
him
and
began
to
ride
him
.
No
,
not
to
ride
him
:
to
insinuate
herself
against
him
in
series
of
silken
-
smooth
waves
,
each
more
powerful
than
the
one
before
,
strokes
and
beats
and
rhythms
which
crashed
against
his
mind
and
his
body
just
as
the
wind
-
waves
on
the
lake
splashed
against
the
shore
.
Her
nails
were
needle
-
sharp
and
they
pierced
his
sides
,
raking
them
,
but
he
felt
no
pain
,
only
pleasure
,
everything
was
transmuted
by
some
alchemy
into
moments
of
utter
pleasure
.
He
struggled
to
find
himself
,
struggled
to
talk
,
his
head
now
filled
with
sand
dunes
and
desert
winds
.
—
Who
are
you
?
he
asked
again
,
gasping
for
the
words
.
She
stared
at
him
with
eyes
the
color
of
dark
amber
,
then
lowered
her
mouth
to
his
and
kissed
him
with
a
passion
,
kissed
him
so
completely
and
so
deeply
that
there
,
on
the
bridge
over
the
lake
,
in
his
prison
cell
,
in
the
bed
in
the
Cairo
funeral
home
,
he
almost
came
.
He
rode
the
sensation
like
a
kite
riding
a
hurricane
,
willing
it
not
to
crest
,
not
to
explode
,
wanting
it
never
to
end
.
He
pulled
it
under
control
.
He
had
to
warn
her
.
—
My
wife
,
Laura
.
She
will
kill
you
.
—
Not
me
,
she
said
.
A
fragment
of
nonsense
bubbled
up
from
somewhere
in
his
mind
:
in
medieval
days
it
was
said
that
a
woman
on
top
during
coitus
would
conceive
a
bishop
.
That
was
what
they
called
it
:
trying
for
a
bishop
…
He
wanted
to
know
her
name
,
but
he
dared
not
ask
her
a
third
time
,
and
she
pushed
her
chest
against
his
,
and
he
could
feel
the
hard
nubs
of
her
nipples
against
his
chest
,
and
she
was
squeezing
him
,
somehow
squeezing
him
down
there
deep
inside
her
and
this
time
he
could
not
ride
it
or
surf
it
,
this
time
it
picked
him
up
and
spun
and
tumbled
him
away
,
and
he
was
arching
up
,
pushing
into
her
as
deeply
as
he
could
imagine
,
as
if
they
were
,
in
some
way
,
part
of
the
same
creature
,
tasting
,
drinking
,
holding
,
wanting
…
—
Let
it
happen
,
she
said
,
her
voice
a
throaty
feline
growl
.
Give
it
to
me
.
Let
it
happen
.
And
he
came
,
spasming
and
dissolving
,
the
back
of
his
mind
itself
liquefying
then
sublimating
slowly
from
one
state
to
the
next
.
Somewhere
in
there
,
at
the
end
of
it
,
he
took
a
breath
,
a
clear
draught
of
air
he
felt
all
the
way
down
to
the
depths
of
his
lungs
,
and
he
knew
that
he
had
been
holding
his
breath
for
a
long
time
now
.
Three
years
,
at
least
.
Perhaps
even
longer
.
