Sue reached the patio, and he turned to her, scowling. He pointed to the ashtray resting on the glass-topped umbrella table. "Where is it?" he demanded.

Sue frowned. "Where’s what?"

"You know damn well what." Cal’s body quaked lightly, partly from anger and partly from withdrawal. He had ridden a good thirty miles around and through Dareville and was looking forward to coming home to relax with the remains of the joint he had left in the ashtray last night.

Only the ashtray was empty now, save for the tiniest bits of ash even the sharpest of roach clips wouldn’t pick up. The joint was missing, as was the dime bag resting on the table beside it, and he said as much.

"And so you know," Cal added, "‘dime’ doesn’t mean I paid only a dime for it."

"I know what it means, and I didn’t take your stupid pot," Sue said dryly. "I don’t do drugs."

Cal exhaled sharply through his nose. A hit off a joint would probably do Her Majesty some good, he surmised, but he kept that thought to himself. He was light-headed and parched from the ride and definitely not in the mood to argue. She had to be lying, he knew. The cottage sat on a remote piece of land just within Dareville’s borders; there wasn’t a neighbor for at least three miles, and the property sat on a cul-de-sac, so traffic was a non-issue.

"Well, if you didn’t take it, and I know I didn’t move it from the backyard—" Cal began, his tone patronizing.

"How do you know you didn’t move it?" Sue challenged. "Perhaps you were so stoned at the time you just don’t remember."

"It wasn’t in my room when I left for my ride this morning. I would’ve seen it otherwise, even with all your crap lying around." All the crap that had been lying around his room for the past two weeks, that Sue had said she would move. Maybe her neglect in following through on her promise was her way of trying to get him to move out altogether. Fat chance.

"I’ll move my stuff when I can," Sue insisted. "My studio is too small to hold everything, and I haven’t had the time to move my equipment around to make room."

"Seem to have found the time to move my stuff," Cal grumbled as he yanked hard on the front zipper of his bike jersey.

"I didn’t take your stupid pot!" Sue echoed, her voice a screech.

"Well, if you didn’t, who did, then?"

"Well…" Sue dramatically took a seat in one of the patio chairs and nodded to the wooded area bordering the backyard. "I suppose we could sit here and wait to see how many woodland creatures come stumbling from the forest with the munchies. Maybe we’ll see Bambi and Thumper raiding the garbage cans."

"Very funny. I don’t need this." Cal pulled the jersey over his head and used it to wipe away a few beads of sweat lining his breastbone. He bit back a smile; the catch in Sue’s throat as he flexed his muscles was too audible to miss, and the sudden drop in her gaze spoke volumes. He watched her shift uncomfortably in the chair until he could no longer resist.

"You okay?" he asked sweetly. "You went all quiet there for a second."

"I’m fine." Sue’s annoyance betrayed her discomfort, easily. "It’s just…this stupid chair. It’s so stiff."

He was ready to let another comment fly when suddenly the catch transferred to his throat. Sue wiggled her hips and crossed her legs, and when she did so a well-timed breeze lifted the hem of her flared skirt. Cal was granted a view to rival the infamous Basic Instinct money shot: a flash of creamy flesh—no stockings—and feather soft pubic hair just barely covered by a patch of…was this woman wearing a thong under that conservative dress?

Now it was Cal’s turn to wriggle like an awkward teenager. He clutched the bike jersey close to his shorts and hoped Sue wouldn’t be able to tell that he was using it to conceal his stiffening cock, which would surely become quite visible underneath the Spandex. The movement, however, did nothing to vanquish the image in his mind of what Sue would look like wearing just the thong, of his tongue gliding across her hip and following the string trail down to her pussy. He saw her open wider for him, granting him access to her slick core and throbbing pink clit…

He pressed his other hand against the shirt covering his crotch, and hoped Sue didn’t have X-ray vision.

To his relief, Sue bolted upright and straightened her skirt. "You know, I’d love to stick around and argue more about your absent-mindedness and your enabling of bunny rabbits, but I’m late for work," she said, and started back around the house. "Try not to do anything foolish today, like burn down the house or kill the cat."

"Hey, you think maybe Typhoid took my stash?" Cal called back. "Maybe he’s the one enabling your furry friends." Cripes. What kind of lame comeback was that?

Sue did not turn around, but flipped back her hand toward Cal and extended her middle finger. Another breeze teased at her skirt, but it wasn’t strong enough to expose anything above the backs of Sue’s thighs.

Nice thighs they were, too, Cal observed. Smooth and supple, and supporting a nice, heart-shaped ass, one he never really appreciated during their accidental coupling.

Oh, but how he would have appreciated rubbing his oiled-up cock between her cheeks, and spraying his hot seed onto her back…

He shook his head. No, he was going to stand by his word this time. He wasn’t going to initiate intimate contact; she would have to do it.