Monday, November 19, 2007

Day 18: 1933 (32266 Book, 149,351 Total)

Decisions? We don't need no stinkin' Decisions.

After all, we still have three more days, right?

(Pounds head on the wall for a while.)

I think I am staying in this house. I have no idea where Russ will be.

Yes, of course this is affecting my writing. I can't remain concentrating on anything for more than a few minutes at a time. And in the greater picture, that really doesn't matter all that much. So I'm not writing a lot. I'm sure we'll all survive it.

I also had to get the DAZ newsletter done today. That took a bit of work and I'm not convinced I got it right.

But I am done with everything for right now. It's time to go get some sleep! Maybe by tomorrow, I'll have thought out an ending to this story, too.

Oh and the picture? That's taken over my shoulder. It's Zaphod where he likes to sleep on my chair behind me while I work. Silly cat.


"Your rooms," Royce said, waving a hand toward the door. He seemed in a hurry to get away. "I'll see you about eight in the morning."

He nodded and put his hand to the palm lock, having no doubt it was already keyed to him. The lights were already on inside, and he could see a large sitting room. The door to the bedroom was open.


He reached for his laser -- and stopped. He knew who it was before she came fully into view.


"Zerod?" she stepped out of the room, her own pistol in hand. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"I could say the same," he said. "But I should have expected it."

"Royce," she said with a shake of her head. "He asked me to stay at the compound and he'd set me up in a suite."

"And he said the same to me." Zerod noted, finally, that Cailin wore only a light robe. "Should we be angry with him?"

"I don't know. Maybe we should. . . . discuss it."

He followed her into the bedroom.

She took him into her arms and pulled him down to the bed, even before he could slip out of his own clothing. He let her do part of the work, enjoying the exquisite torture of her fingers brushing against his skin.

Her hands felt like magic, and he thought his must feel the same when he brushed his fingers along the side of her neck and down her left breast.

She pressed her mouth to his ear, whispering something -- he wasn't even aware what the words might be, the passion swept through him so quickly.

And for awhile he forgot about bombs, work -- and even that he was an assassin. He only knew the joy of being with her.

The night passed gently, wrapped in each other's arms, content with the night. For a few hours they didn't speak of assassins and bombs.

But the morning came, and they dressed and went to work, neither trying to stop the other from what they had to do, though Zerod could see as much regret in her eyes as he felt.


Royce did not mention it, and it seemed rather crude to thank him for sending his sister to Zerod's bed. Instead, they had a quick breakfast and went back to work, sifting through reports of anything that happened the night before -- just a safety precaution. It brought nothing to light.
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