His hands gently caressed her breasts and thighs as she rocked slowly, teasingly, back and forth, the moist heat of her growing passion flowing over him as he stiffened even more to fill her by the heartbeat.
Her long hair cascaded across both their bodies, hiding and revealing as the animated locks responded to her enhanced emotional state. Private words were spoken, secrets revealed, as the couple went beyond words, every breath needed to fuel their bodies locked together in the writhing rhythm more basic and primordial than speech or thought.
Suddenly, Krysty arched her back, thrusting herself hard against the man. Ryan grabbed her hips, holding her motionless for a tick as he thrust deeper into her innermost reaches until their minds were conscious only of each other responding, touch, taste and sound combining into a wild elixir of near drunken intoxication. The creaking of the bed was muffled by their breathing as the chill vanished from the small room, and for a brief moment of time, the world was at peace for the two wanderers.
AS ASKED FOR, there were two double beds in Doc and Dean’s room, along with a table, chair and a tin bucket full of tepid water with a cracked ceramic mug tied to the handle with old twine. An oil lantern lit the bare room bright enough for reading, but both of the occupants were too exhausted to think of anything but sleep. “Ah, Morpheus claims even the giants of yore,” Doc said with a yawn, sitting on the edge of his bed. Easing off his boots, he massaged his stocking feet. “Time to surrender to his dark embrace.”
“Sounds good to me,” the boy agreed, rubbing his eyes sleepily. Carefully checking his blaster, Dean set it on the table between their separate beds.
“Hey, Doc?” he asked, climbing under the covers.
Already under his blankets, the oldster turned over. “Yes, my young friend?”
“Can you tell me about women? I’ve only had a little experience with someone I liked at school.”
That brought the time traveler fully awake as if doused with ice water. So the boy was starting to notice the wonderful attractions between men and women. This should have been a question for his father, but Doc was here and there were few matters the companions didn’t discuss openly. Modesty and reticence were two of the first causalities of the nukestorm that had consumed the world.
“Ahemwell, certainly,” Doc said, brushing the hair off his weathered face, “Are, ah, are we discussing the mechanics of intimacy?”
Dean chuckled at the predark word. “I know what goes where,” he chided. “I’ve seen a lot on my travels with Rona, my mother.” The boy sat up in bed, hugging his knees. “I mean, how did Jak ask the barmaid and how did he know she liked him, and?”
“I see, you wish to know the answer to the ultimate question,” Doc replied. “A question that has a thousand answers, and no answers. How did our Mr. Lauren know? He did not know. He simply asked.”
“But”
“Let me explain. There is a classic tale from predark days of an ordinary man who stood in the middle of Times Square, part of a huge ville in its day, and to every woman who passed by he asked if she would like to, ahem, copulate with him.”
“Do what?”
“Have sex.”
“Really? Some fool tried that with Krysty or Mildred, and they’d get a chair busted over the head. Or worse.”
“Indeed. As did this fellow. He got slapped, punched, kicked, stabbed, shot” Doc paused dramatically. “And copulated.”
There was a minute of silence from the other side of the room. “So it’s random, sort of a shotgun thing. You keep asking until one says yes, and with any luck, she’s good folks.”
Doc nodded at his pupil. “Wise enough for this night, young Master Cawdor. Understand?”
Dean chewed that over. “Not really.”
“Me, neither.” Doc laughed, and turning down the wick, he killed the lantern. “How my dear Emily or the sweet Lori ever succumbed to my dubious charms I shall never understand. But if you do figure out the mystery of the ages, please be so kind as to inform the rest of mankind, won’t you?”