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Cold shower, and then bed. She took one step across the threshold of her bedroom door before the memory of Kelly showering washed back over her. It would be her naked beneath the streaming water, and she could almost see herself running into him as she emerged in her nightgown afterward. She stepped back into the bedroom and closed the door. I have got to get over this, she thought. Okay, just go to bed. Color rose in her cheeks as she hurried to strip off her clothes and put on the gown. She felt as if someone was watching her the whole time. The vibrator in the nightstand next to the bed called out to her as she slipped under the sheets. She’d bought it two years ago when her seemingly perpetual arousal had pushed her beyond the point that her fingers could satisfy. Her face burned as she thought about it and she let her head fall with a thump to the pillow. Only after an hour of tossing and turning did she finally slip into a fitful, frustrated sleep. ** A crash of thunder. He glanced up at his buds, Freddie (the Frog) and Pasquale (the Possum). They had stopped their eternal bitching about how humans were the only animals not required to have alliterative names. From their usual spot on the lowest limb of a nearby cypressand were silently studying this phenomenon. No one ever said humans were smart, thought Bronson, but he hadn’t gotten where he was by taking them for granted. Maybe the humans were going to fish for crappie. But that didn’t seem likely. Even the dumb, if passionate, Paula (the Perch), wouldn’t be nibbling in this heat, at least not on food. Bronson was certain there could be no greater calling in life than to be a bass, especially a big bull bass. However, except for an occasional brief, and exhausting, leap out of water, being a bass meant your air-world viewing angles were limited. So he decided to slip over to the cypress and let Freddie and Pasquale fill in any action he might miss. From his new vantage point among the cypress.
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