The Girl With the Deep Blue Eyes

Twelve

“Well, I think we’ve established that you can make me come.”

“I almost didn’t want you to,” he said, “because then I’d have to stop.”

“But you didn’t stop, did you? Jesus Christ, you kept going and I kept coming. The Energizer Bunny, takes a ticking and keeps on licking.”

“I think you just might have that backwards.”

“And it’s not the Bunny anyway, it’s some other commercial.”

“Timex watches.”

“Okay. Okey dokey. Okey Doak-y, I mean. God, listen to me. Or don’t listen to me. You know that expression, fucking somebody’s brains out? I think that’s what just happened to me.”

“God, you’re beautiful.”

“Don’t change the subject. You know what I still don’t get? What it was that made you decide to sabotage the sheriff’s sting. It can’t be because you have a lot of trouble getting laid. I don’t believe that for a minute.”

“I know, it’s a real problem. Women are after me all the time. My house is on a creek, but with a little digging I could extend it so that I had a moat around it.”

“You’ve got a girlfriend, don’t you?”

“There’s one woman I see three or four times a month.”

“Married, right? And she’s the only one?”

“Sometimes I go out for a drink and I get lucky. But not all that often.”

“And you don’t look all that hard for it, either.”

“No, I guess I don’t. And no, I didn’t write out a script for you last night because it was the best way I could think of to get laid.”

“God, I hope not. Printing everything out by hand in big block capitals. I just know you’ve got a computer. You’d need it or how could you Google people like Doak Walker? Haven’t you got a little old ink-jet printer to keep it company?”

“There’s a record of everything you do on a computer.”

“Even if you erase it?”

“I don’t trust any of that. It gets on your hard drive and you think you’ve deleted it and it stores copies of itself in six different places. And some kid who drove his teachers nuts until they kicked his ass out of school, he sits down with the computer you scrubbed, and he can tell you what you had for breakfast and where you got your shoes.”

“So you decided to be careful,” she said. “I get it. I’m not used to thinking that way. I’ve never had to be careful before.”

“You weren’t very careful talking to Richard Gonson.”

“No.”

“You asked me a question, and I keep not answering it. I suppose I’m afraid of sounding like a moron. Well, too bad if I do. I’m going to tell you a fantasy I’ve had for over twenty years.”