He drew her down, guiding her to his hips. Her
smooth buttocks slid along his thighs. He felt her pause as she
settled onto him, over him.
They kissed.
She pulled away her lips and raised her hips.
He moved his mind to another place, into and around and between
Kate's lovely, far-off lyrics. He concentrated, tuned himself to
her rhythm.
Down, then up, then again, she slowly drove herself harder and
harder. He matched her motion with equal urgency, little lunging
lifts, telling himself at the same time that he was not
participating, not really, that she was doing all of the work, it
was all her, not him. Their mouths worked desperately, lunging
for one another, each attempt to kiss more impossible, more
desired than the last...
Spent, he felt a delirious sense of relief, as if it had all been
a bizarre dream from which he had just awakened. He raised his
head from the mat. For a brief, wanting moment he envisioned Kate
resting lightly on top of him.
The music had ended, the silence was palpable.
His mind collapsed. He felt as if he had taken an enormous plunge
backward from a high altitude, his head dizzy, his thoughts vague
as he fell. He squirmed beneath the full weight the young girl
lying atop him, trying to escape from what they had done. He
wanted tonight to be over. He wanted tomorrow to be over.
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