"A blow job's ten extra but I don't feel like it tonight anyhow. I don't do ass fucking. I gotta fuck on my side cause I got a bad back and if you shit in bed or do anything funny I'll cripple you for life."

This was the first time she'd said anything to Stony. He sat on the bed and tried to say something amusing. "You tongue-kiss?"

Ignoring him she walked around to the opposite side of the bed and lay down on her side facing the wall. She left the boots on. Stony stared at her spine, noticing little bumps all the way up.

He lay on his side in the same position, his nose touching the back of her neck, his prick flat against her buttocks. He could sense that her eyes were open. The overhead light was still on. She lifted her left leg so that he could slip it in. Stony lowered himself a little so his lips were kissing her shoulder blades and taking his prick in his hand he tried to get inside. He couldn't do it. Death Valley. When he pushed harder she winced in annoyance. He froze, afraid she was going to do something like she threatened. He stared at the overhead light for a second, absently kissed her back.

He wanted to lightly run his palm along the hills and curves of her side, but he was afraid. Her leg was still up in the air. Thinking that she might be getting impatient he tried once more to get in. No dice. He spit in his hand and rubbed the saliva over the mushroom tip of his dick. That made it easier. A little. A little, a little more, soon he was all the way in but still was afraid of stroking her belly or touching her tits. He held his breath as he fucked. He liked rubbing his crotch against her buttocks every time he went in deep. Raising himself slightly on his elbow he could see her profile. She was absently chewing on her thumbnail and spacily staring at the red on red fake brocade wallpaper.

"How you doin'?" Stony ventured as he kept it moving around. Leaning slightly forward, not enough for him to fall out, she clicked on the plastic ivory-colored radio on the night table. Frankie Crocker's low-key riff filled the room. He stopped moving inside her, his guts felt like spilling water.

"You come?" she asked. Stony started moving again, though he was losing his hard-on.

"Almost." He stared at her back, her shoulder, the wallpaper. Frankie Crocker chuckled. He started feeling angry, and he fucked harder and faster, but she didn't move.

Tell me somethin' go-o-od
Tell me that you love me...

She laid her arm against her side and patted her thigh in rhythm with the song.

***

When Stony came downstairs to the lobby he found Butler sprawled out on a narrow sky blue couch with metal rods for legs. One arm lay across his eyes, a foot rested on the linoleum floor. Above him on the wood-paneled walls hung a Woolworth's painting of a kid fishing near a barn. When Stony got closer to the painting he realized the wood paneling was contact paper. Stony lightly kicked Butler's foot. Butler raised his head, eyes dazed, arm still shielding his face. "Hey! How'd it go?"