Why are you so bitchy?

Im not bitchy!

In her bedroom, I lean against the window and finally get the detested bracelet off. Shane walks over to me. Im really sorry, D.

I know. And I see in her big hazel eyes that she really is. I take her face in my hands and kiss her. Her face is freshly scrubbed, her eyes red. My babys been crying, I nonsensically think, and I want to scoop her up in my arms and comfort her. Ridiculous.

Hmm, she murmurs, and presses me back with her body. The jaggedly peeling paint on the windowsill catches my dress, and I push her away.

Dammit!

What?

This ***** dress set me back a lot. I think I just ruined it. Why are you always in such a damn hurry?

She grins. Im efficient.

Youre a *****, I think. I roll my eyes, and undo my dress as far as I can from above.

I turn, and place my hands on the windowsill, so that she can do the zipper the rest of the way.

She does, and I feel cold air trail along the cool metal down my spine. I linger in the sensuous pose for a minute, and am rewarded by her fingers tracing the same path, still icy from her beer. I shudder.

I step out of the dress, lay it across the chair so it wont wrinkle.

She divests me of my corset and panties, not bothering with the thigh-highs. She peels off her tee shirt, natural as breathing, and I sit on the bed. Well, the mattress on the floor. Because she doesn’t have a bed.

I must be premenstrual or something, because my emotions are all over the place. Tonight the things that make Shane Shane are just annoying me. Why cant she have a real ***** bed? Too much of a commitment?

She doesnt let me get my shoes off before pushing me down. Thats it. Im officially annoyed.

I can be efficient, too. I reach into the pile of clothes and find her cotton bathrobe. As she kisses me hard and fast I pull the belt from its loops. She never notices. Her kisses are rough and fast, intent on oblivion.