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Vague Warnings

By: GrandTeton



Fair warning: this is about as far away from a stroke story as you're going to get.

*****

"What the bloody hell!"

I couldn't blame the woman for uttering profanities. I'm sure you would be a touch profane, too, if you were suddenly grabbed by a tall and fairly solid galoot, thrown on the ground in a public area and covered with his body. At least until the bomb went off a few milliseconds later, blowing somebody's car to kingdom come, and you with it if you weren't down behind enough other vehicles to contain the blast.

"Dear Jesus!"

The profanity had now dropped into blasphemy, possible marking a reduction in adrenalin levels, or even appreciation for the big galoot who had just saved her life.

"Get off me, you big ox." Nope, not appreciation for the galoot, just settling down some. I thought the shock reaction would take longer to wear off. She felt good. I got up, just as she had asked, and reached down to help her up. That's when I figured out that she was actually gorgeous, or at least damn good looking, even if she wasn't a blonde and wasn't actually all that big. Anywhere.

"Sorry about the rescue, but I couldn't think of anything else. Uh, Kyle Ferguson."

"That's all right, I'm used to having tall handsome men fall all over me. Beth Harper."

"Pleased to meet you, Beth. I didn't hurt you, did I?" Beth was about five foot two. She didn't have "eyes of blue" the way it says in the song. She had warm brown eyes. They were big and questioning and a large part of why she almost made it to gorgeous. Apart from that she was pretty enough - good skin, wide brow, sweet mouth, perky little nose (actually, it was more like the beginnings of an axe blade, but fortunately it hadn't got out of hand), strong chin and a smile anyone would kill to see again. At least I would. It was something else. Her whole face lit up and her eyes sparkled and I melted right there.

"No, I practise being hauled down under big galoots most days, just in case. I'm a little shaken up, nothing serious. How the blazes did you know that was going to go off?"

"Don't know. I just do. Know things like that, I mean. Some kind of vague warning a few milliseconds before disaster strikes. It only works when it's me, or sometimes someone really important to me, like my mom, say."

I stopped dead for a second. It had worked once for Mom, when I had enough warning to get her off the curb the day a car ran up on it right where she'd been. When I thought about the blast, I knew I wasn't likely to get more than a bit of glass blasted my way. I was behind a van. Beth would have been blown to bits. I guess my resident genie thought she was important to me. Must have been a mistake on his part. I don't go for small girls and I only really like blondes. I'm not too fond of girls who are smarter than I am, either, even though I'm not your average dumb jock. It had already occurred to me that Beth was probably smarter than I was.

"Neat talent to have, I suppose."

"It helps. Was that your car that went up?"

"No, that was Henry Ives' car. He was going to give me a ride home. Maybe he's got a bike and can take me home on his handlebars."

"If you don't mind a substitute, I can take you home."

"Okay, I suppose. Henry will probably be here all night explaining to the police why someone wanted to blow him to bits. Since I don't think whoever it was was after me - never can tell, these days - I'd be just as happy to skip the police investigation that I can add nothing to. If they were after me, I didn't know about it."

"Good move for us both."

When we got over to my car, something nondescript and more than a little beat up, she did add, "Look, you saved my life and I haven't said thank you. So thank you." Then she kissed me softly on the lips.

Quite nice, really.

I drove her home and made note of the address. It was an apartment on Fox, about a mile from the university. We exchanged phone numbers, more part of the ritual than because there was anything romantic going on. I wasn't enthralled by intelligent brown-haired women and I got the impression she wasn't into big blonde galoots, even if they were of above average intelligence (for football players, anyway). I played defensive tackle, which probably wasn't going to help if she had a prejudice against athletes. I didn't bother to tell her. We already had "not interested" signals going from each of us. Stronger than I was used to.

"You going to be all right?"

"Yeah, I get bombed often enough this shouldn't even leave a hangover. Thanks for the ride. See you around."

"See you."

I was pretty sure I wasn't going to see her, since I'd never seen her before, as far as I knew, and while she was nice enough she wasn't my type and I was pretty sure I wasn't hers. No sparks. I didn't usually run into sparks anyway.

My resident genie had been with me for a long time. He might have been incorporated when I was born, though I have no knowledge of that, and no stories from Mom about infantile brilliance at avoiding danger. Actually, I probably hurt myself more than most infants. The earliest I remember Harold (that's what I called the genie; he never complained) was when I was about seven, and stepped back on the sidewalk at his urging half a second before a rather large car whipped around the corner, running the stop sign but missing me. After that I at least listened.

I got hurt in sports as much as the next guy, broke a leg playing soccer on a frozen pitch, stretched or sprained muscles fairly often. Harold seemed vaguely interested in keeping me alive if I was sharp enough to listen but he wasn't into pain management. I'm no more interested in pain than the next guy, so I learned pain avoidance techniques without his help. I suppose Harold kept me from getting killed a grand total of four times before I met Beth, and once got me to save Mom. I don't know if I was prone to getting into near fatal situations or stopped being as careful once I realized Harold was on the lookout for me.

Harold didn't seem to worry about my father, but that was likely because he wasn't home. He'd dropped my mother from his life the night she told him she was pregnant. Mom kept the baby, which is why I'm able to write this story, but had a rough time of it while I was little since her own parents refused to help and my father's parents refused to believe he was the father even with the DNA test. Once I got to be of a reasonable size she didn't have to spend as much time looking after me. She was maybe a little put out that I kept growing after I managed "reasonable", but that extra size got me the athletic scholarship I needed to be able to afford university. The scholarship took care of the basics and I did odd jobs, sometimes very odd jobs, to take care of luxuries like food. Beer was mostly beyond my budget. That was okay since I didn't much like to drink. I know, not your typical college student. What can I say?

I saw Beth around the campus a few times over the next little while though never close enough to talk. I suspect it was only because we'd met in that unique way that I even noticed her. She wasn't the type of woman I tended to notice. Too short, wrong colouring, a hand shy in her chest measurement. We didn't seem to have any campus activities in common, either.

About six weeks later I was between girlfriends and bored so I gave Beth a call. My little list of friendlies should have been between black covers to mesh with tradition but the covers got scorched and I had to throw them away. My list bored me just then. It shouldn't have, as several of the women whose contact and other particulars were listed there were very hot and interested, hence the scorched covers I'd had to throw away.

Beth answered and remembered me, two points in my favour. However, she was otherwise engaged. I don't remember now whether she was involved with a great laundry marathon or needed to wash her hair. A sufficiency to remind me not to expect her to jump at the last minute, which was fair enough and confirmation that I was no more the great love of her life than she was of mine. On the other hand, I was peeved. It wasn't fair for her to point out my discourtesy so blatantly. Maybe it was. Maybe she was just upset because the dog ate her homework.

I didn't call for another date and she didn't call me for help, so it was several weeks before we came across each other again. I'd had some silly urge to walk by her building. I'd never done that before. Beth was way below my radar. Anyway, here I was walking peacefully along her street, Fox, maybe half a mile from my neighbourhood. The sun was out, the sky was blue and there was a light haze over the apartment block. On fine days I liked to explore the city when I needed to get out and about.

I noticed that the only building with its own haze was Beth's, where I'd dropped her off weeks ago. I had no idea, of course, as to which apartment was hers since I wasn't stalking the woman. I wasn't even looking for her. She wasn't my type. I was only walking through a section of town I hadn't been familiar with on a lovely day for the fun of it.

There was a bit of a furor in the apartment lobby for some reason but it didn't seem significant. Something told me to cross the street to see. It wasn't curiosity. It was just an urge. The haze over the building started to come out the front door, which was unusual behaviour for fog, but not unknown. I was crossing the doorway into the building, noting from the mailboxes that Beth was in apartment 46 (number 6 on the fourth floor) when somebody hit the fire alarm and the next thing I heard was a woman screaming.

"Where's Beth?"

Indeed, where was Beth? Not here, not in the lobby. I wasn't too sure how I knew that. I headed for the stairs without thinking.

By the time I got to the fourth floor the smoke was too thick to see through. I dropped to a crawl at floor level. Smoke tends to stay up. I checked out the apartments. There were eight on this floor, likely all one bedroom units or maybe bachelors. Most smoke was seeping out the door of number 5, across the hall from Beth's, or at least it seemed that way. I figured there wasn't any real chance Beth was home with all the foofraw going on, but Harold the genie said otherwise, with a strong push to go try her door. It would be locked, and then Harold could decide whether to make me knock it down or go find her somewhere else or give the whole thing up as a bad job.

As it happened, Beth's door was unlocked. I thought any reasonably modern apartment building had doors that locked automatically when they closed, like a hotel room door. I was wrong. These were like a lot of motel rooms, where the door had to be manually locked, the same as most bathrooms. I knocked and opened the door at the same time, calling "Beth". Her apartment wasn't too smoky yet, but it was bad enough she'd probably bailed out, maybe the back way if there was one. Fire Code wouldn't have let these apartments be rented out if there wasn't one. That is, if the inspector had ever been around.

The door to what had to be the bathroom was closed and there was some noise behind it. She wasn't anywhere else in the apartment. I knocked and went in. Beth was in the shower, which explained why she hadn't reacted to the smoke. It couldn't get through the water and the water had kept the air reasonably clean and blocked the noise. I rapped on the side of the shower and got a scream worthy of Janet Leigh.

"Beth, this place is on fire and we have to get the hell out of here. Now. Fast. Move it."

"Kyle, my hero?" She didn't sound all sugary like a maiden in distress. Actually, she sounded pissed, as in 'what are you doing in my bathroom you pervert', though at least she didn't say it.

"Yeah, me, let's go."

"Why do I get in trouble every time you're around?"

"Come on, Beth!"

"I'm naked. I can't go out like that!"

"Looking good in it, too, kiddo. It's go out naked or burn to death. Move it." I reached in and grabbed Beth, picked up a set of feelings I put aside to analyze later, and slung her over my shoulders in what they called a fireman's carry. I grabbed the biggest towel I could see and wet a hand towel for my mouth and nose to cut down on the smoke I'd inhale. Beth was pounding on me but not saying much.

"Here we go." I opened the door and flame had started cutting into the smoke. I wondered how long it would take the fire department to get there. Surely the alarm was wired into the nearest station.

I didn't stand around wondering. All I heard from Beth was "Oh shit" and then we were crawling to the stairwell. It was hot and messy and I was burdened with a smallish person who still weighed too much. I gave Beth an end of the towel I was using as a breathing mask. The floor was starting to heat up so I scurried, not that easy with a hundred pounds plus on my shoulders.

"Here, Kyle."

Beth noted the door to the stairwell. I was almost blinded with the smoke by that point, but managed to reach up and get the door. It was cool on the other side. Pretty much clear of smoke, too.

"You all right?"

"Yeah, I've ridden men naked lots of times, especially when things get hot. Mind you, they're usually naked, too."

"Didn't seem the time or the place."

"Look, you can let me go."

"I'd prefer to hold on." One hand on a naked butt that seemed very pleasant indeed. Of course I let her go. Sometimes I'm not all that smart.

"Here's the biggest towel I could find." I regretted handing it to her almost as soon as I did, because I thought she'd look really nice naked, but I couldn't see well through my streaming eyes as the tear ducts made an effort to wash the smoke out of my eyes. Beth had the towel on in almost no time. She took my hand and led me down the steps until we exited into the lobby. Turned out Beth was only close to the most naked one there, Her towel was a little bigger than another woman's, someone who lived on the second floor who'd been in bed, probably alone.

"How'd you end up here?" Beth whispered to me.

"Dunno. I just had a mild urge to go for a walk and check out another area of the city I haven't walked through before. Then there was the ruckus in the lobby here. Someone yelled out 'Where's Beth?' and I took off upstairs without thinking about it. I already had your apartment number from the mailbox, so I checked it and your door wasn't locked."

"Weird. I always lock my door."

Somebody was checking off names and trying to make sure all the tenants were accounted for. Beth spoke up when it was her turn. The guy in apartment 45 didn't answer though everyone else was accounted for. I told whoever that apartment 45 seemed to be where the fire had started.

"Look, I'm going to see what I can do for Ms. Harper. You don't need us, right?"

"No, it's okay. She's checked off. It'll be a couple of days anyway before she can go into her apartment even if the fire leaves it alone."

"You want to stay here, Beth? If you'd rather, I can go get my car, such as it is, and drop you off somewhere. Man says you can't get back into your apartment until maybe day after tomorrow."

"I'd prefer that, now I'm not so heated. Thanks." She backed into a corner where her towel was enough to preserve a considerable part of her modesty. I knew she had a nice bum just from the feel of it. I had been in too much of a hurry to get a good look when I picked her up. She had fine, shapely legs. They weren't long, of course, given how short she was, but they were really easy on the eye.

I jogged home and was back in a quarter hour. The lobby had thinned out a bunch. The Red Cross were there to offer places in the arena across town to anyone who had nowhere to go. The Fire Department was still working on hotspots. The media people were all over the place. I'd had to park on the next block because of them. News was probably sparse. "Small apartment fire, no one hurt, mostly smoke, film at eleven."

Turned out I was wrong. The guy in apartment 45 where the fire originated succumbed to smoke inhalation and died before the firefighters made it in. (Just for the record, they weren't all firemen. I saw at least three women wrestling the hoses too.)

"Beth, if you want I can pull up out front and you can get in the car here. Otherwise I'm a block and a half away."

"Can you carry me?"

"Yeah, if that's what you want. You'll have to hold on."

"That's what I want, Kyle. I especially want to hold on."

It hadn't occurred to me that what Beth needed more than anything else just then was a hug. She'd been so competent once I got her to the stairwell that it hadn't crossed my mind that she'd nearly died, and might well have if I hadn't happened along. She was entitled to a bit of a breakdown if that's what she wanted. What she wanted was a hug, and I was nearest, I suppose. I simply picked her up, covered as much as I could with the towel, let her wrap her arms around my neck and hugged her tight. Then I carried her to my car. I had thought it was farther away. I wanted it to be.

"Are we there already?"

"Unfortunately. Come on and let's get you in."

Once Beth was in and her towel re-arranged I asked where she wanted to go.

"I don't know. I don't really know anyone well enough here to drop in on to stay for a while. I haven't got any money for a hotel. I haven't got any clothes so I can't sleep in the park. Suggestions?"

"Come stay at my place. You can have the bedroom and I'll sleep on the couch. It's comfortable enough. We can probably put up with each other for a week or whatever it takes them to get your place back to rights."

"God, here you save my ass and I reward you by throwing you out of your bed. We'll work something else out. I'm little, there should be a corner you can shoehorn me into."

"What size are you?"

"Why?"

"If we're lucky my sister has something close enough to your size that you can go shopping in it. Then you can get something to wear."

"No money, Kyle, remember?"

"I can stake you to a few clothes. As few as possible, of course, since you felt pretty good bare. Keep the receipts and somebody's insurance ought to pay me back."

"All right. I'm a four for most things."

"Miranda is likely a six."

When we drove up to my place, the west half of a semi-detached that I had all to my lone self this year, Beth got out when I opened the car door for her and followed me in. I'm good at opening doors for women, not so good at the rest of the Sir Galahad routines. The first thing I did, fool that I am, was to suggest she might want to shower off the soot and the grime. I offered a big robe for after.

"I'm going to call my sister, and then maybe we can eat something and go shopping afterwards. Sound okay?"

"Yeah, that's good."

I called Miranda while Beth showered and my sister dropped off a few clothes even before Beth was out of the shower.

"Where'd you get this one, Kyle?"

"Saved her from a burning building."

"Bullshit."

"No, I'm not kidding. Film at eleven. Besides, even if she feels good she's not my type. Too short. Too smart."

"You could do with smart."

Miranda left before Beth came out of the shower. She was shaking her head, though whether it was at me or at my strange story I didn't know.

Miranda's clothes were too big for Beth, as expected, but they fit well enough for short term decency. I drove her over to the mall, trying to figure out why I seemed to be saving this small woman from strange fates. So far a bomb and a fire. I'm not absolutely positive that the bomb blast would have done her any great damage, though I thought at the time it would have resulted in a very difficult jigsaw to put her back together again. The fire fighters might well have got to her before the fire did, or might not, but I suppose I had been making sure. Or Harold had.


Vague Warnings



"You're not accident prone or anything, are you?" I asked.

"Not usually. It only seems to happen when you're around."

"Oh." That was a direction of causation I hadn't considered. I can see being pushed by Harold the genie to save Beth if Harold had taken it into his head that she was my lifelong love or something. I suspect Harold reads more romance novels than I do. It was a lot stickier if Harold was pushing Beth into danger so I could prove to her that I was a suitable male protector. Beth may not have been my type, but I still didn't want to be a danger to her. She was a decent soul, and besides, no one deserves that kind of risk. It was an interesting dilemma, actually. In the one case I should stick around Beth to serve as her protector and in the other I should run like hell to protect her. Once I worked out which way it worked I'd have to act, but in the meantime we had to get her some clothes and sundries.

Once in the mall Beth took on the normal glazed air of a shopping female. She was smart about prices, purchased just what she needed and had the good sense to buy on the heavy side of the minimum she needed, just as I'd asked. I accompanied her everywhere, except the changing rooms or the lingerie sections. I am a guy. A couple of times she asked my opinion, which was flattering.

"Do you think this skirt makes me look fat?"

"Nothing could make you look fat. That skirt comes close, though." She didn't buy the skirt.

I suppose you could say that getting a swimming suit in the fall doesn't make sense, but Beth swims for exercise and the university has two indoor pools, one heated and one not.

"What do you think of this one?"

I thought it made her look like a rape just waiting to happen, or something like. No man I knew would be able to keep his tongue in his mouth. It's a good thing I needed to cough just then. My handkerchief picked up the drool.

"Bloody fantastic."

During the afternoon I discovered that Beth was fun to be with. She had a great love of the double entendre, and reminded me of a story I'd read once called "The Girl in the Freudian Slip" - not the book and play by William F. Brown, but another one I haven't been able to find since. She talked a great fight but I rather thought she had less experience with men than she protested. Not my problem, I suppose. I had no plans to become one of her men. Or maybe her one man.

"What do you think of this blouse?"

"Not good. I don't think the colour is good on you and the cut's bad." She accepted my judgment again, somewhat to my surprise. This wasn't the first time I'd ever gone shopping with a woman, just the first time I'd been able to endure it for the afternoon. And the first time someone had listened to my opinion about clothes. Spending time with Beth was not a hardship posting.

My larder was bare so before we went home we hit the grocery store and picked up some eats. Beth swore she could cook so we got the stuff to cook with as well as a few prepared meals that my parents called TV dinners. I sometimes cooked. One of my girlfriends was kind enough to explain that it was a good thing I thought I could cook since no one else ever would. I think she left me shortly after. She couldn't cook either.

By the time we were done shopping it was getting late and I was getting hungry. I was also hoping the insurance money came through before my credit card bills showed up.

"Come on, Beth, try out some of your new clothes. I'll buy you dinner. There's a nice little family restaurant a couple of blocks over - casual dress."

"You mean I don't get to wear the mankiller stuff?" I had no idea which outfits fit that classification, but I hadn't seen everything she bought. When you're five foot two and lightly built everywhere I don't think there's anything that would fall into a mankiller classification, but I didn't worry about it. Beth was getting to be a friend, and I was pretty sure I was stuck with her as a roommate for a couple of weeks at least. I was actually looking forward to it. That surprised me, since my experiences with a roommate the year before had been pretty bad. I hadn't minded the parade of pretty girls he'd run through the place, but I had been unhappy about the lingerie that tended to be everywhere.

Beth changed into something casual but pretty while I put the groceries away. She'd wanted to help but I was the one who knew where everything went, except the spices. Guys didn't use spices, did they? I was pretty sure the dish detergent went under the sink. What on earth is coriander for? What is it? Why is it? The stuff for washing clothes went next to the back door. Who would ever eat muesli? How do you keep from breaking your teeth on it? Do you have to feed it? Anyway, I worked my way through what we'd picked up and put the bags away at the end. I picked up the wrappings from Beth's clothes and sundries. She'd needed a brush and comb set, makeup - she didn't get much of that - toothbrush and some fancy toothpaste, all that kind of thing in addition to her clothes. She had to be pretty smart to sort that out and not miss anything. Razors, shaving cream, deodorant. I put that in the bathroom for her. She would get the lower shelf in the cabinet over the sink.

Beth came out washed and dressed, hair combed but flowing down over her shoulders to midback. It was longer than I remembered it. Who'd have known that ordinary brown hair, with maybe a touch of gold in it here and there, could look so good? She wore a sweater and skirt combination that I hadn't noticed her getting. They went well together and demonstrated that Beth had nicely sculptured legs and a sweet form. I suppose I should have noticed when I picked up her naked body, but I'd been busy, you know? She'd felt good but I hadn't seen much, though I knew about the legs.

Beth and I had a very nice meal for a decent price and talked at each other throughout. I guess we touched on nearly every subject of interest to either of us. I finally found out that she was in third year, specializing in business administration. She discovered that I was in third year, too, specializing in football and economics. She found that an interesting combination. I guess she had the view that most football players specialized in underwater basket weaving. She didn't object when I admitted that a few were so inclined, but that most of us mastered academic subjects, and planned on postgraduate study of some kind if we didn't make it to the pros.

"I believe you, Kyle. Thousands wouldn't, but I believe you. Those thousands wouldn't believe I've just received the most lucid and understandable description of the business cycle I've ever heard, either, not from a football player. A defensive lineman at that."

"Defenders are always brighter, Beth. You want to find the real dozy guys, try an offensive lineman, especially a guard. The centre has to be able to count, or at least recognize numbers."

"That's cruel, Kyle."

"Unjustified, too. Two of the offensive linemen graduating this year have been admitted to medical school."

One of the things that had passed over the table was the news that Beth didn't have a boyfriend at the moment and that Henry Ives, the guy whose car was blasted, had been nothing more than a casual acquaintance. The bomb had been a warning for him to cough up the drug money.

Henry was now a guest of the state.

There was a little warmth at our table. Some of the frostiness between us melted. She still wasn't my type, but I was beginning to see how somebody who might go for the type would be very pleased with her. I didn't know what type attracted her. It wasn't big galoots. Probably smallish academic types. I knew a few, mostly good guys. They'd be good for her. I felt a little unhappy. Maybe a twinge of jealousy, if she'd been my type. Maybe gas. I hadn't eaten for a while. I sometimes get gas pains when I eat a lot after not eating for some time.

"Anything else you want to do?" I asked after we'd paid up.

"No, I think I just want to go home, thanks."

That night I cleared the junk out of the third bedroom. There was mine and then the second bedroom was a home office I used for schoolwork.

"Do you think we can fit a second desk in here?"

"Lots of room."

Once we had things sorted out that far - I had promised to go through the stuff I'd cleaned out of her room so we could use the hall the way it was meant to be used, instead of as the initial stages of an obstacle course - we cleaned up and found ourselves in our respective beds, not that there had been any chance we'd have to share a bed.

"I thought you said you'd let me have the bed and you'd sleep on the couch."

"I lied."

"Good night, Kyle. Thanks you for being so helpful, and for letting me stay. I'll see what I can find for myself tomorrow."

"No need, Beth, unless you want. You can stay here until your place is ready. As long as you want." I surprised myself with that last part of the invitation. It hadn't been a mistake. I'd had a rough time with my last roommate, which is why I was living alone in spite of the expense. I didn't think I was ready to try again. My subconscious appeared to think otherwise.

It didn't take long to fall asleep.

I was walking across part of the university campus. I was near the library. I looked up at the main offices of the university, a building in classical style with the service building or cupola on top that seemed a part of any classically designed university building.

We'd been lucky as a university. There hadn't been any riots such as those at Kent State, with attendant loss of life. There hadn't been any maniacs shooting people because they were women, or just because, like Université de Montréal and a number of others. I guess our luck had just run out. The first gunshots rang out as I looked up. For some reason I was convinced Beth was in the bunched together students who'd thrown themselves to the ground at the evidence someone was shooting to kill. I was pissed at Harold for being so late with the warning. Several students ran around like chickens with their heads cut off. I yelled at them to get down while I raced over to save Beth. The gun, some kind of rifle, kept firing. I was reaching for Beth when the first blow hit me, just under the shoulder blade. A second hit me and I felt myself falling.

Beth hit me a third time.

"Wake up, damn you, you're dreaming!"

"Snort, get down, snurgle, all right, don't hit me again, I'm awake."

"You sure?"

"No. I think I'm awake. Maybe I'm just dreaming a naked girl is pounding on me."

"Yeah, you're awake. Only you would be able to tell I haven't any clothes on in the dark."

"Do you need rescuing?" I tried to put a leer in my voice. It mustn't have worked.

"No, you did. Do you have nightmares like that very often?"

"Never. I don't even remember my dreams."

"Well, you were having something that seems awfully close to a nightmare. It'll do until a real one comes along."

"Then I suppose I should thank you for waking me. Seems someone up in the cupola on the administration building was shooting up the campus and you were in danger."

"I never go in range of that building. My classes are all over on the south side of the campus."

"I suppose my subconscious doesn't know that."

"Can you get back to sleep now?"

"I'll try. And Beth . . . thanks for caring."

"I care about getting my beauty sleep."

I didn't believe that any more than she did.

The next one involved water. I think Beth was drowning. Maybe I was. Some kind of sea monster was pounding on me. Beth again. I woke up faster, this time.

"No nightmares?"

"Never before."

"Same one?"

"No, this time you were drowning."

"Your subconscious learns fast, I guess. Better tell it I swim like an otter. I was on the swim team in high school. I'd be on the swim team here, too, if I was bigger." There was a note of longing in her voice. I hugged her to me without thinking.

"If you can keep your hands to yourself I'll stay with you. It may be the only way either of us can get any sleep."

"Yeah, I can do that. Sorry."

"You're not doing it on purpose."

I wasn't sure. I wasn't doing it consciously, but I had a pretty active subconscious, what with Harold and the warnings and who knew what else. Who knew what it was about? I've got to admit that curling up to Beth with a hand and arm around her naked body felt awfully good. It still felt good when I woke up.

Damn. It was quarter to eight and I had an eight thirty on Monday. Not, perhaps, the best way to start the week, but it did get everything going so I didn't suffer too much from weekend drag. Kept me sober most of the weekend, too, and I found I preferred being able to see without flinching. I hurtled out of bed to get started on clean up and dressing without paying any special attention to my cuddle doll. Other than a quick peck on the cheek.

"Thanks, sweetheart, gotta run."

Then it was all me - shave, shower, lots of deodorant, back to hurtle into jeans and a T-shirt, change the T-shirt for a dress shirt (it was an economics class, and a little attention to dress paid big dividends in getting the professor onside; I wasn't fond of macroeconomic theory, though I thought Keynes had known what he was on about even when you couldn't trust the politicians to get it right, which might have been what Marshall and Pigou meant), grab the keys since it was already too late to walk, pick up toast and peanut butter and a cup of coffee in the travel mug, kiss the little woman and gone.

I was almost halfway to the campus when it hit me that everything after picking up the keys was new. Usually there wasn't anything else until I was out the door. I couldn't object to the toast and peanut butter. It was gone anyway, wherever food that gets near me goes, I suppose. The travel mug was empty. It had been good coffee. Even after the food and the coffee the kiss lingered. Nothing passionate. Chummy, even. But definitely memorable. Maybe it was the gold streaks in her hair.

My type had always been big, deep breasted blondes. The gold in her hair had obviously fooled my subconscious into deciding she was close enough to my type to kiss in the morning. I wasn't fighting it. That kiss had been nice.

"Sorry I didn't wait to see if you needed a ride this morning," I apologized when I got home.

"That's okay. I don't have classes until eleven thirty on Mondays."

"Uh, thanks for the toast and coffee, too. I usually don't get anything if I'm in that much of a hurry in the morning."

"No problem. It's as easy to get something for one as for two. Did you sleep well?"

"I was out like a light for the whole night after you came to bed. You're very comforting, you know."

"Yeah, well, it worked for me, too. I kind of expected a nightmare after that business with the fire, but I slept better than for a couple of months, anyway."

Supper was in, that night. Neither of us had enough money to make eating out other than an occasional treat. Beth hadn't lied too much about her cooking skills. She couldn't have been cordon bleu since she couldn't crack an egg one handed the way Michael Caine does it in The Ipcress Files. (Did you know that the hands cracking the eggs were actually Len Deighton's, the author of the book?) Beth accused me of lying about mine, though. That was when I successfully boiled the water for the pasta. I explained that I'd never done it before, so my success was obviously derived from the need to look good in her eyes.

We both laughed at that bit of nonsense.

I don't think supper was all that special, but we both enjoyed it more than any other recent meal. It was the company, of course.

"Are you going to have any more nightmares?" Beth asked when we were getting ready for bed.

"Don't think so."

"Better not."

This time Beth and I were walking in the woods. It was a bright sunny day with birdsong and gleams of light and blue sky through the forest canopy. For some reason I was happier than I'd been for ages. I couldn't say how long. We were chatting about something or other, nothing too serious. It wasn't campus gossip. Beth didn't gossip.

She turned towards me to make some kind of point and I heard the crack.

"Get down." I pushed her down and away and was hit myself by the massive bole of a tall . . . 

"Would you for the love of Pete wake up?" Beth yelled at me. "Not again. I'm never going to get any sleep around here if you don't stop having these nightmares."

""Urgh, gurgle, zoomph, I'm awake. Sort of. Stop pounding on me."

"Am I going to have to sleep with you again?"

"I'd like that."

"Okay, just sleep, right now."

With that she slid in beside me for the second night. Just like the night before she was as bare as a newborn and felt just as smooth and warm and wonderful. It was comforting to have her there, so comfortable that it was no time at all before I had wrapped an arm around her and dropped off, sleeping the sleep of the just even if I could have been court martialled for my thoughts. The key to a good night's sleep, at least when Beth was in my arms, was not to feel guilt. It was pretty hard to feel guilt when all I could really feel was Beth. It was too bad she had a problem with football players. I'd given up thinking she wasn't my type. She was Beth, and somehow over the past forty-eight hours I'd decided Beth was my type. It was infuriating to think that maybe Harold had been right.

At breakfast the next morning Beth asked me to take her to the mall after classes.

"If I'm going to end up sleeping with you every night so we can both get some sleep, I need to buy pyjamas. You should get some, too."

"I don't think the magic would work as well if we wore pyjamas, Beth."

"You're just a pervert who likes to feel up little girls."

"You know that's only partly true."

"Which part?"

"Girlzzz."

"Oh? Tell me about it."

"I only like to feel up one particular little girl." For some reason Beth blushed. I hadn't thought she had it in her.

"Oh."

I think that put an end to the need to go to the mall.

That evening Beth decided we'd take one more shot at sleeping by ourselves. Whatever trauma had affected me should have worked itself out. She may have been right. I was cross country skiing with Beth, both of us bundled against the cold on a beautiful winter morning, the sun shining brightly, reflecting off the snow. The sky was that brilliant deep blue you get on a few winter mornings. The snow was unmarked except for our trail. The hills were a goodly distance away. There was no real threat of avalanche, or trees falling on us, or polar bears or whatever. I was just enjoying time with Beth. I turned to her to add a remark, likely something brilliant like "Time for lunch?" when a voice out of nowhere screamed "Fire!"

I couldn't figure it out. There wasn't a prayer anyone could get a fire started in all that snow, and it wouldn't burn anyway. The call came again, louder and harsher:

"Help, fire, help, somebody, help me!"

Dear God, it was Beth's nightmare. I stumbled up, not being the lightest sleeper known, and made my way to her room. She was bolt upright in bed, screaming.

"Fire! help!"

I grabbed her shoulders and gathered her in. She was rigid as a board.

"It's okay, it's all right, I've got you, you're safe, the fire's out."

She shuddered awake.

"What are you doing here?"

"You had a nightmare, about the fire."

"Me?"

"You."

"Shit. Your bed's bigger. Let's go."

Beth and I slid into bed as if that's what we did every night. Tonight she was spooned into my back, her perky little breasts flattened against me and an arm slung over my waist. I enjoyed it immensely, though not so much that I didn't fall asleep almost immediately. I woke up once in the night to hear a fearful moan from Beth but then she pulled her arm a little tighter, murmured happily and dropped off to sleep again. I soon followed.




Vague Warnings



Thursday night was fine. No nightmares for either of us. Of course, we'd gone to bed together for the first time. Just to sleep, Beth said, and that was all, but it was a good sleep for us both I think.

At breakfast Friday morning Beth seemed a little upset, but not nearly as upset as her words made out.

"Look, Kyle, staying here with you has saved me a lot of trouble and even some money, but it's destroying my social life."

"Why is that?"

"No one will ask me out because they assume we're together."

"We are together, in a way, I guess."

"Not that way. Everyone assumes that since we're staying together under one roof that I'm sleeping with you."

"You are, aren't you?"

"Not the way they think. You know that's a euphemism for what we aren't doing."

"Oh. Do you think that we should be doing that, just so they aren't wrong about you?"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." I couldn't help grinning. There was a little extra vehemence in her voice that suggested maybe the thought had crossed her mind more than once.

She didn't know yet that she was my type, now. She probably still thought I was fixated on tall, willowy buxom blondes. Well, I was, but somehow she'd slid up the scale with them. My mind's eye held a truly weird vision of Beth and a bevy of said blondes serving my every need. She stood out as the exception. It was even a little funny that she was the one in front, the one with the golden aura. I needed my mind cleaned, I think. Maybe I'd needed my mind cleaned for a very long time.

"No, I don't suppose it was. But I can dream, can't I?"

"Nightmare, more like. Look, my girlfriend said people are starting to talk, about how maybe you've got me captured here and enslaved to, uh, cater to your needs."

"How do they explain the fact that you go to class everyday and come and go as you please?"

"I don't know. Likely the picture is so satisfying to them they ignore those little logical inconsistencies. Maybe they think I'm a slave to my passions."

"Really?"

"Well, you're a big hunk so maybe when you slake your passions the woman at the other end of the slaking is reduced to a quivering blob of lust." This conversation was interesting, but not going in the direction I'd anticipated. Beth didn't look precisely enamoured of the thought of being reduced to a quivering blob of lust, but there might have been a touch of fascination. She wasn't the type to want to lose control of herself to that extent. I may have been making it all up out of nothing, too, simply to stroke my own ego.

"Why don't you ask somebody out, then?" That wasn't what I'd meant to say.

"I couldn't do that. Nowadays women can ask men for a date. I know all that. I've even done it in the past. Many times." Now I knew she was lying, at least about the many times, but I wasn't going to call her on it. "No one I might ask will say yes. They're all too frightened of you."

"Nonsense. I don't have a reputation as a brawler. I've never been in a fight, even in a game. I've never been possessive of a woman."

"You're a big bruiser, though. That will scare some of them. You've never had a woman living with you before, either."

"I suppose not. What did these men you've asked say?"

"I haven't actually asked them, yet. I just know they'll turn me down. After all, I'm not some beauty queen worth taking risks for."

"You know you're worth taking risks for. I've taken risks for you."

"Yes, and I'm grateful, truly I am. I'm especially grateful that you've never tried to take advantage of having helped me, saved my life, even. In some cultures that would make me your slave."

"Don't be foolish. You've done as much for me, helping me through my nightmares."

"Maybe. But you wouldn't have those nightmares if it hadn't been for me."

"Foolishness again. What was the point you were starting to make?"

"I guess I was thinking that I can't stay here forever. I've got to find somewhere else. You've been a fantastic roommate; I don't mean that you're the problem. I just have to get on with my life and I don't think I can do it if I'm staying with you. I have to get out and meet people."

"I suppose. Staying home on Friday night doesn't do your femme fatale image any good, I'm sure. Tell you what. Just for this week I'll take you to the dance. We'll dance a time or two. You can find some kind, studious lad who matches your ideal and I'll see if there's a buxom blonde for me. Okay?"

"Well, at least that'll get me out."

"Only problem is, I've got a game tomorrow and have to be in bed by midnight."

"I can put up with that."

"I didn't mean that. I only meant that I have to be here asleep and you can't have anyone over. You don't have to come home when I do."

"You know you don't sleep well if I'm not with you, and I don't sleep well if you're not with me."

"Suit yourself."

"Leave about nine?"

"Sure."

Practice that day was just running patterns and plays, offensive and defensive, making sure we were up on our thinking, review of the other side's last game film, checking for patterns in their play, raising our spirits. Last year these guys had lost us our chance at a bowl game. Not one of the big ones, of course, but a trip south in December would have been a nice bonus for the year. Even to the Cheetos Bowl.

Coach didn't want any of us worn out for the game. He told all of us he expected us to be in bed by eleven.

"Okay, no later than midnight. It is Friday night."

We all laughed. Coach was a fair guy, and a realistic one.

"What I mean is, I'll put you all on your honour to be asleep by midnight. How's that?"

We all roared, and agreed.

Going out with Beth as if she was a real date, or at least an almost date, given that I was squiring her to the dance but not expecting her to spend all her time with me, was strange. We'd fit well with each other as roommates, much better than I'd expected, especially with a woman. I had only the one older sister, and though we loved each other and would do anything for the other, we hadn't gotten along all that well at home. Mostly it was fights over the bathroom, though we could work up other conflicts if we wanted to, and we often did.

I'd expected living with a woman to be dealing with someone who took as if entitled, which Miranda had. It might have been more because she was the older. Certainly she acted as if I were ten when she was twenty-two, not something a sixteen-year-old would take from his eighteen-year-old sister without fighting. Beth and I didn't even have conflicts over the bathroom, which is a rare roomie indeed. As a matter of fact Beth was incredibly considerate, likely a good bit more than I was.

She cleaned up pretty good, which is a slur since she was always clean and neat. She didn't use much makeup, but what she did use made her look a touch older and even more attractive. I wasn't really looking forward to her dancing with other guys, even if those were the rules tonight.

I had been looked at around campus as more of a hunter-gatherer than a stay-at-home guy, so there was a stir of interest when I brought Beth into the dance. More than a few looked long and hard at Beth, trying to figure out what she had going for her that others who'd tried to rope me hadn't. I don't think of myself as any kind of a catch, but there were women at that college who were looking for a catch of any kind. All they insisted on was warm and breathing, and they were prepared to negotiate.

I paid Beth's way in even though she'd managed to get her banking straightened out and replaced her cards and had money in her pocket. I wasn't too sure who'd had to cough up for the fire damage, but I got an insurance company cheque for what I'd paid out for Beth plus an allowance for her room and board, which I thought was more than necessary but didn't turn down. If you can get anything out of an insurance company, keep it. Maybe frame it. It's rare.

Beth was a little frustrated that I'd paid for her, but I made it clear that whatever current customs were, I'd invited her to the dance and I expected to pay. Even Miranda, a free spirit if there ever was one, would have agreed with me. Our family is perhaps a little old-fashioned, but there are some courtesies that have been beaten into me for too long to ignore. Beth didn't fight hard over my gesture, which was good of her. I hadn't thought she was able to pick out those times when I wouldn't budge. There weren't many of them, but it was better to back off when you hit them.

The dancing had already started. I wouldn't usually get to a dance until later, but I had to make allowances the night before a game when I had to be in bed early, at least for a Friday. Beth accepted when I asked her to dance. She was a beautiful looking little thing as she danced with me, making me feel a little less of the big clumsy galoot most people considered me to be. I didn't step on her toes, anyway. The next one was a slow dance. Beth fit in as if she belonged in my arms. It was quite amazing. I'd held this woman naked in my arms every night since the fire, but there was something very different about holding her with clothes on. It wasn't just because she was holding me, too, though that was part of it. Maybe it had something to do with showing the people around us that we thought something of each other.

After that, we'd had the obligatory two dances and we were free to search out other partners. That wasn't normal behaviour for a dance date, but it had been what we'd agreed. We were roomies, actually, not involved. That's what we told each other, anyway. That's the way it had to be if we were going to stay roomies for a while. It was going to be at least a month more before her apartment was ready. They hadn't even finished the structural analysis to determine whether the place could be repaired or not. At that time in the school year I was pretty sure that she wasn't going to be able to find other housing. Besides, I liked having her around.

I caught up with a svelte blonde who had a massive rack. I suspect she wasn't much more than a C-cup but they looked bigger since she was quite thin. Not skinny. I think she said she was a swimmer, but she didn't have the shoulders for it and I suspected that her chest would create too much drag. I'd have to ask Beth.

She didn't mind dancing with me, so we gyrated through one of the faster ones. I was surprised at how stiff she was, as if she were holding herself on display. It was an attractive display, though. The next one was a slow one. She felt pretty good in my arms. She plastered herself over me. There wasn't any question that she was available if I was. I thought I'd ask Beth why some women seemed determined to give themselves to the first big one to come along, even when the two of them haven't exchanged more than four words: Care to dance? Yes. Didn't even have to be a good-looking big one. After all, she'd made it clear she'd take me.

I managed to escape the blonde but not easily, and decided I'd ring in a change for a few minutes. I saw Beth dancing with some nerdy guy almost as short as she was. He seemed to be talking a blue streak. She didn't look like she was enjoying the experience. I wasn't sure how I knew that. The same way I knew she'd enjoyed dancing with me as much as I'd enjoyed dancing with her, I guessed.

My next dance was with a brunette I'd known for a while. We'd had a very brief affair the year before. I think she was cheating on her boyfriend to get back at him for cheating on her, though I didn't find that out until later. I suppose two times isn't much of an affair, but it's the next step up from a one night stand. She had been a tolerable escape from whatever I'd been escaping at the time. From the looks of things tonight she and the boyfriend had broken up for good. She was out hunting. Perhaps Beth would know why some people can't be faithful to each other. It seemed to me that faithfulness was essential to any kind of commitment and you shouldn't be with someone, except casually, unless you were committed. This business about fuck buddies bothered me, and I didn't have any.

I'd been with a number of women and had broken off relationships as often as I'd been dumped. I wasn't any saint. I'd never been unfaithful, though, while at least twice the woman I was with had stepped out on me. It seems to me that if you want to go try out the next meadow over to see if the grass really is greener, you ought to at least let the guy you're with know that it's over. Otherwise it's too much like the dog in the manger: I think I can do better but I want you in reserve in case I don't like it as much over there as I think. It's even worse with someone who starts casting around "for the experience". Maybe I'm foolish. Lots of couples engage in extra-marital activities. It's not for me, though, even without a wedding band.

The brunette tried to make a move.

"Let's go over to your apartment and make a little whoopee, Kyle."

"I can't upset my roommate."

"We can bring him in. I wouldn't mind two of you."

"I don't think she'd be into it."

That shut her up for a minute. Then she started talking about motel rooms and I had to remind her it was the night before a game and I couldn't do that.

I'd had two dancing partners that evening, other than Beth, and hadn't been very happy with either of them. I decided to sit out a couple and maybe make a more reasoned choice. I saw Beth dancing with a different guy, taller but skinny. It was a slow dance and she seemed to be holding him off. My blood started to boil and I had to remind myself that I had no claim on her and no right to be the least possessive. I started to my feet as I recalled that I had every right to be protective, though. The dance ended and Beth disengaged neatly before I could do anything stupid.

I think she saw me, because she came over to sit with me for a few minutes. Guys didn't choose to ask her to dance while she was sitting with me. I saw a couple veer away. It didn't seem to bother her any.

"Kyle, are these guys all as young as they seem?"

"Not really. The dance is partly a hunting ground, and some guys haven't learned how to hunt. In the same way, some women haven't learned how to be prey."

"God, you're cynical. What about just dancing for the pleasure of it, of moving your body to music?"

"Most of these guys don't really like to dance. They're just here because the women are here. And some girls, who should know better, but don't. Not all the women are prey, either. A goodly number are predators in their own right. Like the guys, they're either looking for short-term pleasure or a long-term commitment."

"What about you?"

"I'm escorting the most beautiful girl in the room. I'm happy with that."

"Don't you like to dance?"

"Sometimes. I'll even dance with you. Come on."

It wasn't the way we'd agreed, but Beth and I spent the rest of the evening, at least until I had to go, dancing with each other. I enjoyed myself. Beth made no effort to search out another partner, or even to be available for one who might show up. I hoped she enjoyed herself, too.

Then the time came for Kyle to get his butt home to sleep.

"Beth, I'm sorry if you're having fun. I've got to go home. If you want to stay longer I can get somebody who owes me to bring you home later."

"What if somebody asks me to stay the night?"

"Your choice." I hope she didn't notice how that thought speared me, worse than a helmet tackle.

Beth laughed gently.

"No, Kyle, we'll go home together." I guess she noticed.

On the way out, one of the offensive lineman, Joey Gretna, the guy who was planning a doctorate in biology since he wasn't pro material, asked Beth if she was going to the game.

"I hadn't thought about it."

"Well, since you're Kyle's girlfriend, they'd let you sit near the bench. Your choice, of course."

"I'll check with Kyle."

She didn't deny that she was my girlfriend and I wasn't going to correct the record. She was, for the evening at least.

"Sorry, Joey, Beth. Beth, this is Joey Gretna, best offensive guard in the state. Joey's not big enough for the pros so he's planning a dissertation on the mating habits of the desert fox. The word is that he's done a lot of field research already, at least on mating habits." Joey laughed.

"Joey, this is Beth Harper. Beth's a good friend who's presently homeless."

"And you're taking advantage?"

"Certainly. Blame me?"

"No, not at all." Beth smiled at the compliment.

"I hope you have a good game, Joey."

"We'll look for you."

On the way home Beth asked me about the team section of the stands.

"A few of the guys are married, so their spouses sit there. Lots of parents want to see their boys play, so that's for them, too. Most of the rest of us have some kind of short or long term relationship, so significant others and friends have tickets for seats there as well. We're all given tickets for two seats each. Sometimes my dad comes, but mostly I pass my tickets on to those who need more than two, for when a whole family shows up, say."

"Do you still have a ticket left?"

"Yeah, sure, do you want to go? I never thought you'd be interested. I don't give my tickets out until just before the game when they can do some good."

"Will you give me one?"

"Of course."

"Will you keep one for me for the rest of the season?"

"Sure."

I was surprised since Beth hadn't struck me as a woman who'd be interested in contact sports. She was a swimmer, trying herself against the stopwatch most often, not trying to drown her opponents. I wasn't trying to kill or maim my opponents, either, despite appearances, but I was trying to cause havoc. That attitude probably wouldn't get me too far in a pool. Maybe for water polo.

When we got home it was straight into bed. I was surprised that Beth snuggled right in with me as usual. For some reason I'd expected her to stay up for a while. The comfort of that little warm body close in put me out in no time.

The next morning we woke as usual, staring at each other. I suppose I knew Beth's naked body better than her clothed one. She knew mine, too. Neither of us was very careful about our personal modesty around the house. Why would you bother when you slept naked with the other person? It was just comfortable.

"Thank you for taking me out, Kyle. I had a good time."

"I had a better time than I'd expected. It must have been the company."

"Of course it was," she grinned. Beth's grin made her light up. I loved to see it, and did what I could to keep it there.

I left early. Coach always wanted us to get to the field in the morning before the game and we'd have a team lunch and he'd do what he could to make sure we were up for the game. We'd gone over the mistakes we'd made in the last game the day before. On game day he'd congratulate us for what we'd done right.

Football wasn't quite just a game anymore. Certainly not for those on the team with a reasonable shot at the pros. It was still a fun time for those of us who didn't worry too much about our professional chances and simply tried to make our friends who were going on look good. Take me, for example. I was a damn good defensive tackle, but I didn't have the size to play that position in the pros, and I didn't have the speed to play linebacker or the hands to be a running back. I looked on my job, apart from winning the game after causing serious difficulties for the other team's planned plays, as making the linebacker who played behind me look good. Hugh was a definite pro prospect and a good guy so I did what I could to make his statistics better. How? Usually if we were going to get a sack I made sure he got it. If we blocked up a running play I'd shift the back his way so he'd get credit for the tackle. Stuff like that. The statistics weren't important to me and wouldn't do me any good in the long run anyway, but he could always use better numbers. Especially when the scorers could see him on top of the back but not notice my hand on an ankle, even on the replay. It's what you did for friends. Help them out. In a way, it was what I was doing for Beth.




Vague Warnings



By the time we came out for the game we were all revved up and ready to hammer the other team into the ground. So were they, of course. I was pleased to see Beth in the team friends section. I hadn't been all that sure she'd show up even when she'd asked for the ticket. I think she was sitting with Joey's sister. That's who was supposed to have my second ticket.

The game seemed to go as fast as ever. We hit change of ends after the first quarter down by ten: a field goal we'd had no chance against and a touchdown that should have been stopped - not over my side, thank heaven. Coach was pretty quiet. We all knew that this was a make or break game for our hopes for a bowl game invitation. With one loss already it was unlikely we could win the conference. We were ranked about twenty-three nationally. A loss would probably drop us off the list.

The second quarter started with a long bomb that should never have been caught but our receiver had magic in his hands. They dropped him on the two. One surge from the fullback in behind Joey with a successful conversion and we were within three.

The other side stumbled on their next series and we picked up the ball just our side of midfield. It wouldn't be modest to say they stumbled because I was in their way, but it's true. Three times. We got within field goal range before we faltered and Coach ran a new play. The holder passed off to the back who managed much more than the eight yards we needed. With the conversion we were ahead by four. The play's success came from everyone knowing Coach didn't take chances. He was a straight ahead guy. So when he pulled that trick out of the box they were all caught flat-footed. It took the steam out of their next series, and a blocked punt did the rest. It was my linebacker friend who blocked that one. Guess who paved the way. I didn't want us to lose, not in front of Beth, at her first game.

A few plays later we were in. We ended the half up by eleven. Coach was happy enough that he spent a few minutes talking to the friends of the team. He spoke directly to Beth once that I saw, which was nice of him. He probably thought we were on a roll and it didn't take anything from him to keep us there. He was one of very few men in the game who knew when to leave well enough alone.

The second half was more of a grind. We had the measure of their offence and their defence dug in. The third quarter was scoreless. They picked up a touchdown in the fourth quarter from a mistake in the coverage, and went for a two-point conversion, which would have brought them within field goal range. I got a hand on the quarterback and my personal linebacker got a hand on the pass so they stayed five down, and that's the way the game ended.

I wasn't player of the game or anything - defensive linemen don't get that honour. The team awarded me the game ball, though. I gave it to Beth. She didn't quite know what to do with it.

Joey told me not to worry, that they'd taken care of it, but I didn't have any idea what he was talking about. He was off to the showers before I could ask.

"Beth, do you have any idea what Joey was talking about?"

"I suppose he's referring to the two guys from the other university who barged into our seating area and tried to give Joey's sister and me a hard time. Before either guy could get a hand on us they were swamped and the cops hauled them away. I never realized your team was a family, Kyle, a real crew of gentlemen. I didn't even have time to be scared."

"I'll have to thank the offensive line."

"The backfield, too, Kyle, even the quarterback. And Coach didn't say a word to them. It was almost as if it had been a designed play."

I'd grown used to my weird genie keeping an eye out for Beth as well as me and was surprised I hadn't felt even a twinge. On the other hand, I suppose Harold had figured out there wasn't a tinge of danger even with those two idiots trying to cause trouble. No point in taking on a whole family, after all. They didn't know that, I suppose.

Teamwork always. That was what Coach taught. I was surprised he hadn't been over the fence too.

"Too old and fat, Kyle," he told me.

"Too slow, more like," one of the assistants said. "You let us catch up to you."

After the game Beth and I just went home. I was too tired to have any energy for a celebration and Beth wanted to put her trophy away. She was proud of it.

"Kyle, we're having a class party Monday evening. We should have dates for it, I guess, though it's no big deal to go stag. Will you take me? You don't have to."

"Love to, Beth."

We were in school and mid-terms were coming up soon so neither Beth nor I had any time to explore what any of that meant. I was learning that being around Beth made the days happier - not a feeling I'd run across before. I took pleasure out of feminine company from time to time and I enjoyed spending time with my buddies but with Beth I was just happy. I liked being happy more than I liked being unhappy - duh - so I spent a lot of time with Beth. It was only being around Beth or chatting with Beth or making a meal with Beth. Nothing exotic or romantic. I doubted I'd recognize romantic if I fell over it.

Her class party was an interesting event since a bunch of the art students had decorated the location with beautiful pictures. There were mythological scenes, of the clean variety (assuming you know of any; I didn't), unicorns and maidens, knights killing dragons, elf queens and princesses. I was surprised that I thought I recognized one of the elf queens. It seemed to be Beth's face, starkly beautiful in a look I remembered but hadn't seen often.

"That you, Beth?"

"Yeah, I sat for Robert when he did it. Looks better than the original, hey?"

"No, closer than most perhaps, but not better." I was jealous of Robert. What else had Beth done for Robert that he saw the beauty that so many passed over? Was Robert Beth's past lover, even current love?

"Robert's a dear. You'll have to met him, Kyle. There he is, over in the corner with his date."

She dragged me over. I wasn't any too keen on making the acquaintance of Beth's lover. I was a damn fool. I had no right to jealousy. No attachment. Just a big black hole full of envy and resentment. It wasn't any help that Robert was a tall, handsome and well-mannered gentleman. He'd be a better bet than me any day even if I can break him in two. I wouldn't do that to Beth, though. Mind, I was tremendously relieved when Robert introduced his date. Allen was a nice guy, too.

"Your painting of Beth as the elf queen picked out a side of her very few people seem to notice," I told him. "That must be the artist's eye."

"Thank you. I've tried for ages to get her right. She changes so much, all of her beautiful. She won't let me do a nude, though. Claims she's too modest." I almost choked over that, given how little modesty she showed around me, but managed not to get myself in more trouble. "Then there's the problem with Beth's smile."

"How so? When Beth smiles the world lights up."

"That's an effect no painter can capture. God knows I've tried."

Beth was embarrassed by Robert's praise, and maybe by mine, too.

The rest of the party was comfortable. People took it that Beth and I were an established couple and we got a few "couples only" invitations, family things, nothing outré. Beth accepted two for us. Perhaps I should have objected. It would have made more sense to cut my head off. If Beth is prepared to let the world think we're a well-established couple who am I to contradict her? Entirely apart from the pain she would mete out, I mean.

I didn't mind being linked with Beth as a couple. The people who knew I preferred tall buxom blondes didn't understand how I could be linked to a short, slight, brown-haired girl, but then I didn't either. I just was, and I wasn't the least bit unhappy about where I'd ended up. Matter of fact, I was pleased as punch.

The rest of that week was pleasant. Looking back on it it's difficult to pick out any one special thing. It just felt good. Classes went well, practice went well, living with Beth and sleeping with Beth went well. Life's usually pretty good. This was better. We had another home game Saturday, which we won by a bigger score. I did all right though I wasn't the standout I'd been the week before. We came off the field after the final gun and were greeted by the friends of the team. They'd been let onto the field since it was our last home game for a couple of weeks. Wives and girlfriends kissed their boys. Beth kissed me. It wasn't the first time she'd kissed me, but it was the first time I felt like it belonged. I wasn't even surprised.

After I got back from class and practice Monday Beth greeted me at the door. It hadn't been customary, and I could tell there was something special on her mind.

"I've got a letter from my landlord, Kyle," she greeted me. My heart sank through my boots. Her apartment was ready and she'd be moving out. I steeled myself for the news. It had only been two weeks and already I knew I'd miss her, her cheerfulness, her companionship, the happiness that seemed to flow out of her. I figured that was the way the world went. She'd go back to whatever circle of friends she had and the men who, no doubt, pursued her, and I'd go back to my pre-Beth existence, not a bad life, just one with less light in it. I supposed I should have been happy that I'd had those two weeks. Lots of people don't get even that much happiness out of their lives. I shouldn't be ungrateful. I wasn't prepared to give those two weeks back whatever I might be offered for them. They were too precious. If they could only live as memories, then at least I had that much.

"There's a problem."

"Oh?"

"There was unsuspected structural damage. The whole building's got to come down. Maybe it was cheap construction in the first place. I can't move back."

I whooped as if it was the best news I'd heard in a year (which it was), grabbed Beth and starting hugging the daylights out of her. I backed off to give her a kiss, a little more heartfelt and a little less exuberant than I'd intended, and let her go.

"Beth, I don't want to be ill-wishing you or anything, but that's the best news I've heard in a long time."

"Me too, Kyle." Her brilliant grin faded for a moment. "Assuming you'll let me stay."

"Dear Lord in heaven, Beth, you can't possibly believe there's a chance I wouldn't."

Her brown eyes sparkled.

"I didn't think so, but I didn't want to presume."

"You witch, you just wanted to make me say it."

"Perhaps. It's nice to hear, though." She returned my kiss, heartfelt, maybe a tinge of passion. I wasn't sure about that and I had too much to risk any of it by taking advantage. The kiss was wonderful in itself. Maybe there was a promise of a little more someday and maybe something had escaped that she'd meant to keep inside and maybe I was fooling myself. There was no point in pushing, now that we had more time, not that pushing was ever a good idea. Sex with this woman might be a marvelous experience. I was beginning to realize that there was a lot more than a night or two of good sex at risk here. I'm slow, sometimes, but I usually get there.

"Beth, next weekend is an away game. The university will pay for spouses and girlfriends to travel with the team. Will you come?"

"Of course."

Coach always had a briefing session for the wives and girlfriends before an away weekend. I'd never been involved before, but this time I had to tell the team manager that I wanted to speak for a place for someone. Coach heard of it. He might have been listening in for all I knew.

"If that girl's what's got you playing the way you're playing now, Kyle, I want to meet her. Not your usual at all." I hadn't known quite how close an eye Coach, and his spies, kept on us. "Bring her to the briefing session at six."

Beth didn't have any reluctance to go. She told me that even though she'd only exchanged a few words with Coach, she rather liked him, and would be pleased to get to know him better. She showed no embarrassment at being grouped with the wives and girlfriends.

"I'll bet it's all about not wearing your man out before the game," she laughed. "I think I can safely promise that, at least this weekend." We hadn't progressed that far, if we were going to, though I enjoyed her little dig. It was something to look forward to, her suggestion that, perhaps, it might happen. Another hint, something to work with, something not to push.

Beth told me afterwards that she hadn't expected the warnings about not going about alone, even, or maybe especially, on the other campus. Sometimes fans got way out of hand. The best protection was removing the risk or the temptation.

Beth said she'd been right about part of the briefing, though expressed in terms of shopping and sightseeing and "anything else", whereupon Coach blushed. I didn't know he had it in him. Beth was surprised, too.

"I suppose it's part of what makes him such a good father figure for you all."

The weekend away was a good time for us. We won though we didn't get too stuck up about it. It had been a weaker school. Coach was careful not to run the score up too much even if the stats might have been good for some of the guys. They didn't need the stats enough to rub our opponents' noses in the mud. He left them their pride.

Beth and I enjoyed each other's company in a novel setting. The university town wasn't startling, but it was new to us. It was sort of familiar at the same time, but I think that's because I was with Beth and she was with me. That's what we told each other, anyway.

We turned in at curfew, each of us a little excited at the thought of sleeping together somewhere that wasn't home. Whatever we might have thought about doing, and we had traded a few caresses, didn't happen as we both fell asleep. Sleeping together and waking up together was still as comfortable as it had always been. It felt like forever. It was only three and a half weeks, but it felt to me like we'd been married forever. And it felt good.

I suppose it was the comfort and happiness of that weekend that prompted me to ask Beth a question.

"Beth, love, will you marry me?" I did it right, down on my knees, looking soulfully into her big brown eyes.

"Yes."

"When?"

"Soon."

"How soon?"

"Tomorrow."

I suppose she loved me. She's told me often enough since, and shown me, too. I've told her often enough as well. People need to hear that sort of thing. It's not enough to feel the truth. I was stunned by her answer at the time. It was all I'd ever wanted in life.

The next weekend was an away game again, but I was married for that one. Coach laughed like hell when I told him.

"And I thought you might be one of the dumb ones. Smartest thing you ever did in your life, Kyle."

"I thought so."

Beth and I never did make love before we married, but we didn't put getting married off very long, once we were both sure that's what we wanted. Her father had given up hope for her, she'd been so picky. I couldn't see ever giving up hope in Beth, but you could say I was prejudiced in her favour. Her mother thought she'd been waiting for her one true love to show up and take her off on a gallant stallion to the land of happily ever after. I don't think she expected a big galoot who'd pluck her naked body out of the shower and crawl away down a smoke filled hallway, but the result's the same.

Making love with Beth after we were married was glorious. We'd both known it would be. Beth wasn't nearly as experienced as she'd have had you believe, but I'd known that for months. Well, weeks. I hadn't really known her for months. She may even have been virginal, though that's not anywhere I was going to go. Nothing that happened before we met has any meaning to either of us anyway.

Making love meant hearts and flowers, roses and light, even in the depth of winter, and still does. Harold the genie had an easy time of it until the kids came. There was only the one time, when he made us miss a plane that went down somewhere. After the kids came he was pretty busy for a while. Kids are like that, all risk and no thought for the future. After all, death has little or no meaning for the young, but Harold was there keeping an eye out. My kids are probably still more prone to taking risks than most.

Beth has aged wonderfully well. You can see some laugh lines now, though her face still lights up a room when she grins. She's still small and slight, though a little heavier after three kids. She still loves me as much as ever and, of course, she's still the light of my life, my reason for living.

I never got an offer from the pros. I wasn't quite big enough or fast enough, and I had always known so it wasn't a disappointment. Beth seemed just as glad when I hung up the cleats for good. My practice has been good to us, though, and we live well.

Robert is named for Beth's artist friend, who finally did get a chance to paint Beth nude and did such a wonderful job we have the painting in our bedroom. He married Allen when it became legal in our state. They visit fairly often. He still pesters Beth to let him paint another nude of her, and I think she's going to give in. The head and shoulders he did ten years ago is hanging in the National Gallery now. Robert is twenty-nine, with two little ones of his own and a wonderful spouse who reminds me of Beth even though she's a buxom blonde. Some genes carry over, I guess.

Bethie is twenty-seven, and has modelled for a number of Robert's paintings, in costume or nude as the mood struck the two of them. He's still painting her even after the twins. Her husband is long suffering. Actually, he's as bad as I am, and loves to see her modelling, especially nude, just to get a chance to look at her again. That's one reason I'm looking forward to seeing Beth model for Robert. It's different seeing a loved one posing for a true professional.

Becky, twenty-five, was pregnant before she discovered that the love of her life wasn't. He even hit her, once. Becky had enough confidence in herself and her family to tell me and I passed the word and he hasn't been heard from since. I don't know if he's in Guatemala or dead and don't much care. The team is family and you take care of family. Charlene is everyone's darling. I hope she doesn't mind that she's named for Coach. He's embarrassed enough for two.

We hadn't planned to stop after three but Beth's plumbing gave way, thankfully not to a recurring cancer. We still keep in practice in case a grandchild or great grandchild ever asks us about sex. It would be embarrassing to tell whoever that we'd forgotten, now, wouldn't it? Besides, it's still wonderful.