Assassins: Slow Agony Part 45

"Do you want to kiss me again?"

"Definitely," says Brice. And he does.

This time, I pull him close to me. I am drunk, and I feel completely free. I don't worry about whether I'm doing it right or whether Brice will think I'm inexperienced. He knows I am. I have nothing to lose. The kiss makes me feel like I'm drowning in something warm and sweet. With my eyes closed, I don't know that I'm in the dugout. It feels like I'm swirling in outer s.p.a.ce, like kissing Brice has transported me someplace perfect.

Brice puts his hand inside my shirt. I let him. It feels good, my skin going goose b.u.mpy in response to his feather-light caresses. I lose myself in the sensation. If I'm doing this, I'm not thinking about Joey Ercanolo's blank, gla.s.sy eyes, about the little bit of blood sliding out of the edge of his slack, open mouth. Now. Brice's mouth. Brice's hands. That is real. That is all I care about.

To push the thoughts of Joey even further away, I put my hand inside Brice's shirt too. His skin is warm and smooth. I can feel his muscles move under his skin. He gasps against my lips when I run my fingers over his ribs. I like the idea that I'm making him react.

Brice eases me back on the bench, so that I'm lying under him. I don't stop this either. Everything is tingles and warmth and excitement. My body feels taut, like something inside it wants to be released. I help him push my shirt up. I can't control my breathing when he puts his hands under my bra. It's too nice. Too good. I arch my back against the bench, wanting him to touch me more. He kisses my neck, my earlobe. A moan escapes my lips.

Brice's voice is breathy. His lips tickle my ear. "I thought you said..."

Said? Said what? Does any of it matter? This feels good. I like it. I don't care what I said. I'm drunk. I'm running from the memory of the man I shot today. I shot him over and over again. And he's dead. He deserved it, sure, but it was me that killed him, and I... "Kiss me," I say, and when Brice puts his lips on mine, I fumble to find the b.u.t.ton on his jeans and undo it.

He pulls back. In the darkness, I see his eyes searching mine. He looks confused, but not unhappy. "How drunk are you, Olivia?"

"I want to," I say. "I don't care if I am s.l.u.tty."

"You're not s.l.u.tty," he says. He looks down at me, my clothes in disarray. "Well... Look, whatever you are, I like it."

Sure he does. Isn't that what guys want, anyway? Willing girls? I unb.u.t.ton my own pants and wriggle out of them, so that I'm lying on the bench in my panties. The air feels chilly against my skin. I shiver.

Brice swallows hard. "Whoa." His gaze runs over my body, up and down, then back again. "Um...we should...we need..." He yanks his wallet out of his back pocket. He has to sit up to go through it.

I'm confused. I sit up too, hugging my knees to my chest. "What?"

He pulls out a condom, looking triumphant.

"Oh," I say. "Good." I feel a stab of panic. How drunk am I, if I'm not even thinking about things like that? Maybe I shouldn't... But then I flash again on the way Joey's body looked when the first bullet burst into his skin. I remember the way it jerked. I remember how surprised he looked. I kiss Brice again, desperately wanting the sensation to wipe it all away.

Before I know it, we're lying on the bench again, kissing furiously. My legs are wrapped around Brice. He's running his hand from my knee, up over my thigh, my hip, and back again. The taut feeling is back. And so is the feeling of being lost. Being away, swirling in some warm dark place-a cavern of goodness. I don't want to leave here.

But Brice pulls away again.

"What?" I say, propping myself up on my elbows.

He's struggling with the condom wrapper.

I take it from him and rip it open. I hand it back.

"Thanks," he says. "I'm just kind of... This is..." He grins at me.

He's nervous, I realize. That's what's turned him into a b.u.mbling idiot. It's adorable, actually. Rea.s.suring too. "Have you done this before?"

"Uh..." He looks away from me. "Sort of."

"Sort of?" What kind of answer is that?

"It's kind of a long story," he says. "I kind of don't remember exactly."

I raise my eyebrows. That sounds strange.

"There was this actress chick that I met last month and-"

I unzip his pants to shut him up. "I don't care." And I don't. Too much talking means there's not enough warm tingly feelings. "Put the condom on."

"Yeah," he says. "You're really something else, Calabrese."

I bite my lip. "Call me Olivia." For some reason, I don't want him to think of me as tough right now.

"Sure," he whispers. "Olivia." He kisses me again but doesn't touch me because he's busy with the condom.

He's done in a minute. I can feel him pressing against me. There's nothing between us but the thin cotton of my panties and a piece of latex. My heart thuds in my chest. I feel frightened suddenly, unsure of whether getting myself into this situation has been a particularly great idea. There's the whole fact that premarital s.e.x is a sin, for one thing. But there are lots of sins. I've committed those too. This won't be different.

I touch his face. "Brice," I say.

"You okay?"

Can he tell that this is suddenly real to me? That I'm realizing exactly what I'm doing? "Yeah," I whisper. I wriggle one leg out of my panties. I spread my legs.

Brice's body settles against mine. It seems like he is wearing so many more clothes than I am. He puts his lips on mine.

I brace myself. Is this going to hurt? Don't they say it hurts?

Then I feel it. Him. Pressing against me.

In completely the wrong place.

I wriggle my pelvis, trying to move him into the right spot.

It doesn't work.

Should I reach down and, like, move him? I feel too shy to touch it. I wriggle again.

No dice.

Suddenly, Brice's entire body spasms.

Jesus, I think. He didn't even, like, get in me.

But then Brice shrieks, and I know he's crying out in pain, not pleasure. In the distance, I can hear the clock downtown begin to strike midnight.

I look at his face, which is twisted in agony, his eyes squeezed shut. "Brice? Brice, what's-"

And he opens his eyes. They're glowing bright red.

I push him off me, screaming. Berserker. Brice is a berserker .

And I was going to have s.e.x with him.

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end.