Page 24 of Lucky Night

10-41 SUSPICIOUS FIRE

Fire Marshall investigation is required.

CODE 1 Occupied Structure or Vehicle. A structure (commercial, residential, public), or vehicle (car, bus or train) that is occupied at the time of the fire.

So there is a fire. A suspicious one. Or does the code just mean an alarm has been triggered? Fire Marshall investigation isrequired. How could they know there’s a suspicious fire if it still requires investigation?

Shouldn’t a radio code be a little bit less ambiguous?

She checks a few other sites. Nothing. Good. She won’t let this rattle her. She’ll just—

What are you doing on the sofa? he demands.

He’s standing in the bathroom doorway, watching her.

What’s wrong with the sofa?

It’s not the bed. Get over here, woman!

She rolls her eyes but she rises, smiling. Jenny’s coming! She’s on her way. His heart soars, as does his cock. Can a cock soar? It can certainly perk the fuck up, as his always does for her, this woman who quickens his blood. Who pushes him to lyricism, to think in ludicrous phrases likequickens his blood.Idiot thoughts. But so what? She’s returning to bed.

Come, madam, come.Phone in one hand, glancing down at it, other hand plucking at her belt. That’s right, my lady, loosen that encumbrance, that vexing…he could tie her up. Lash her wrists to those sleek and handy bedposts and lavish all his attention on her, for as long as it takes. Drive her mad, multiple times. Be driven mad by her in turn. Is she ready? Futzing with her phone—she’s bored. He can cure that. He can—

It’s been a while, she says. Should we call down?

The desk clerk said they’d make an announcement. Let’s give them a few more minutes.

She slides into bed, and he adjusts his robe over his tormented genitalia. She’s not ready. Which is fine. Though, to have her inches away, semirecumbent yet unattainable—it’s torture. When they’re apart he manages, barely. He has his rules, his bulkheads. His own hand, when necessary.

It’s frequently necessary.

He crosses his ankles, tucks his cock under the belt of his robe so it doesn’t whang out into the open. He settles back into the pillows.

So, he says. We were talking about your books.

Werewe?

We were. Your millions of ghost books. I understand they’re quite sexy.

They’re romantic, she says. It’s YA. I can’t, you know, write pornography.

But there is boning, correct?

There is boning, she concedes. Very vague, and very hazily described.

He empties the last of the champagne into their glasses. So how does that work? he says. How do ghosts and humans screw?

Oh my God, Nick. Are you seriously asking me about this again?

You’ve never given me a clear answer! As a purveyor of this kind of literature, this spectral smut—

Smut! she cries. That’s me. A big old smut slinger!

I just think you should be able to explain the mechanics.

She whaps him with the end of her belt. If you’re so curious, why don’t you read one of them?

He wrinkles his nose. I’m not really your target audience, amI?

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