Merry - Chapter 72

   Panic thoroughly enjoyed Merry's afternoon performance. She walked around with her robe flapping open, to show herself off to him. She clearly enjoyed him watching her. She was excited to finally get to "cook" for him, as that satisfied a craving she had for her science girl project. She sashayed around and laid all over him. She pampered him with his tater tot snack in bed. She improvised a tray to eat off of, by flipping a cardboard box over and cutting the middle out to make side legs.

   "I remember you once telling me about you and your mom watching TV, when your dad was working the late shift at the steel mill he worked at. You were talking about how happy it made you as a little kid? To be allowed up late with your mom, watching late TV… and eating snacks. You said your mom got you a metal tray, and put your TV snacks on it… and it was one of those little things as a little kid that made you giddy. You thought it was… the neatest thing ever, was how you put it."

   Merry smiled and put the improvised cardboard tray over his legs. Put the tray of tots on the cardboard, after they had cooled down enough they wouldn't burn either of them. She smiled and winked at him, as she blew on the hot tray. She salted them for him, she put his ketchup onto the tray for him. He had to stop her from popping them into his mouth after salting and dipping them in ketchup. Big wide pupils and sparkling eyes. The silly, dopey grin on her face the entire time.

   To Panic? This made the same pleasant warm feeling, deep down in his guts he felt every once in a while. When he walked outside in the dead calm of an arctic patch in winter, late at night. When no other creature was stirring, and it was like he had the entire night world to himself. Arctic cold, a dozen degrees Fahrenheit below zero, but with no wind, and you could hear everything. Almost no sounds, save for the periodic commanding loud snapping noise the trees made. Noises that scared most people, but he found satisfying and would never know why.

   The strange calm he enjoyed when walking around in an ultra thick fog. The night noises came from everywhere and nowhere at once. The thick fog that you couldn't see anything more than a couple feet in front of your face. You had to really know the ground you were on, to keep your way and know where you were. Like the arctic blast of a winter night, another scary weather pattern that kept ordinary people indoors and he could walk around by himself. Confident he would see and deal with absolutely no one. Again, as if he had the night world to himself.

   But this was different. He was feeling this with someone present. It reminded him somehow of the times one of his treasured cats he had a close relationship with, brought him a dead animal and left it close to him. Uneaten, it was for him. A gift. Freely given. Predator to predator. Close friend to close friend. Panic understood now, what Merry meant by wanting to feed him. This inner glowing warm feeling, was made by science girl's chemicals. Triggered by pleasant events around him. He could be as close to this creature with him, as he was with one of his favorite cats.

   Panic decided against saying anything about it, or teasing her good natured about this. When things are going great? Don't do a thing, don't say a fucking word. Just enjoy it, it can change in the blink of an eye and you'll sometimes never know why. Merry could often times be very aggressive about sex, and that was putting it mildly. This was the polar opposite, she was mushy sweet and compliant. If he so much as touched her gently, she moved or rolled or otherwise anticipated where he wanted her to go, what position he might want her in, and whatever he wanted her to do. When it's in season? Fill up on it. He did.

   When they were done, Merry showed him how she attached her cute leather anklets and wrist-lets he liked seeing on her so much, and had him put them onto her. She handed him the jewelry he liked to see dangling around on her body one at a time as well, then presenting the body part to put it on. She whispered hoarsely in his ear laying there after this, that she was pretty sure she was in the mood to keep them on for a couple days at the least.

   Later on? It was time.

   "Merry? Would you please hand me my laptop, and… your phone that does the hot-spot."

   She complied eagerly.

   "First and foremost? I want you to understand my motivation. The operation up behind the bar? I'm not too concerned with it. You got clear-cut self defense, and… if anyone suspected, knew, or could even prove I was there and helped? Accessory to self defense isn't a crime. Now, that said? This last one… I'll just say that my own personal sense of self defense, could be construed to be a bit broad, as compared to normal legal standards of self defense. And we'll leave it at that. I'll be damned if I'm burning out a nest of poisonous snakes in my back yard, and letting one alive to start a new nest."

   "Now. I want to check on the Christmas package, and see if it's been opened yet. But… I don't want to leave an obvious bread crumb trail. The last thing I would do? Is make obvious search queries. That would be retarded. Not only could anyone interested see it? Later on down the line, someone could easily see the long string of search queries. It would make it obvious."

   "Off the record… this target? Was a hunter and he reloaded. You've seen me and the boys reloading rifle cartridges. I'm sure you realize from all our talk, that it can be dangerous if you don't know what you're doing… or, perhaps worse? If you know what you're doing, and you allow yourself to be distracted and make an oopsie. Under such circumstances? It's possible for the rifle to turn into essentially a pipe bomb. A pipe bomb that your head and hands and chest are all over it. You've seen us shoot rifles, you've noticed we snuggle up to the gun like a teddy bear. Here? The teddy bear is a pipe bomb. The results should be obvious."

   "Also off the record? What happened here, was that the target… accidentally used the wrong powder to reload his favorite rifle with. He also more than double charged it. Bolt rifles are intended to operate in the 60,000 pounds per square inch range of pressure. They'll tolerate sustained use slightly above that, with the gun wearing out quicker than normal. The guns are 'proofed' at 100,000 psi for a couple shots to verify the heat treating. Unfortunately for this asshole, he accidentally created a situation in excess of 225,000 pounds per square inch. That's best estimate."

   "Its impossible to prove exactly which powder was in the last shell in the gun that went kaboom. Its impossible to prove exactly how much powder was in it. Its impossible to verify that the previous round wasn't a squib round that left a projectile in the barrel, and the shooter unwisely touched off the second round with a plugged barrel. All that can be ascertained, is that a high pressure situation happened, and that the results were a catastrophic accident."

   "When they go to the man's house? He has a reloading bench in his spare bedroom. I wore gloves fresh out of a package, I wore sterile booties over my boots that were also fresh out of the package. I wore an outfit that sealed all hair and such things, and it was fresh out of a plastic package as well. If you remember the automatic lock pick the first assassin used on your motel door lock? I used the same device. I greased the lock carefully, so as not to leave tell tale little scratches a pro could find. I verified that no cameras had a field of view of my ingress to the house."

   "Its a most unfortunate accident, these things happen every once in a while. How sad."

   "Moving right along. I want to see in the news stories, that a tragic accident occurred. I'll use a VPN first of all, that's a Virtual Private Network. That will disguise my IP address. Enough people use them, it's normal. Assholes stealing identities on the internet made using them common. I'm also going to use what's called a TOR network. That stands for The Onion Router. It's a safeguard for anonymous internet usage. It used to be perfect, but its been compromised at least once. But… it's so hard to do it? And you have to know beforehand who you're looking for, where they're at, what routers they're using… and most importantly, you have to be waiting for it all to go down. You can't later on, simply see what searches a person doing all this made. That's impossible if you weren't waiting on it, and have the backing of FBI or NSA."

   "In addition? I won't be using my normal operating system. I'm going to boot into a special Linux operating system, that's custom made to be as untraceable as possible. It runs entirely in memory, and so leaves zero footprint anywhere on the hard drive. Forensic examination of this hard drive later on down the road? Will not show any of my searches I'm about to so. And at the search page company? Multiple requests from multiple IPs are coming in with the same searches. These IPs are located around the world, at random."

   "Now then… let's make a search…"

   Panic let her watch as he finally, after all this preparation, typed into the search bar… 'breaking news in Maryland'…

   Indeed as he scrolled down, there just happened to be a story. A tragic accident on a gun range. One police officer dead, no other deaths or injuries. A large number of smaller stories were the media gabbing incessantly about how dangerous guns were, and how this could even happen to a police officer, an obvious expert trained in the use of firearms.

   Merry quietly read and observed. Panic quipped…

   "I doubt Internal Affairs will lose a whole lot of sleep over this. You? Will act very surprised, when Uncle Mikey informs you of this… development. You two will chalk it up to… karma. Are we understood?"

   Merry nodded her head slightly.

   "Good. I'm allowed to act in self defense, like any law abiding citizen, but… I'm definitely not supposed to… operate… on this continent without approval. Of course, that said? Police officers aren't supposed to take oaths to protect and to serve, then participate in felonies and murders. This situation will never be written down, it will never be joked or talked about with Uncle Mikey or anyone else. And remember… you paid me to perform this off the books operation on your behalf."

   Merry almost whispered…

   "Tater tots…"

   "Payment in goods and services, is legally the same as a money transfer. We? Are both in for a penny, in for a pound. I just want you to understand the seriousness of the situation."

   "I do."

   "Also. Not that it would ever happen but…"

   "What?"

   "Well… love can be fickle. If, let's say… a couple years down the road, you decide I'm not the man for you. You're tired of me? Whatever, shit happens… in such a situation? Remember… you would still never mention what never even happened in the first place. Because… who benefits from this operation. Me? I'm not particularly threatened by this asshole…"

   Merry whispered.

   "I am."

   "Right. Can you even imagine a prosecutor or a jury that wouldn't assume you plied me with sex to perform this operation on your behalf?"

   "I hadn't… thought of it like that…"

   "I'm just saying, is all…"

   Merry paused, then added…

   "You? Can be a very cold, calculating bastard."

   "Compliments? Will get you everywhere. Merry, don't think I'm threatening you… I'm protecting you from ever making a very bad mistake. As one of the founding fathers once said during the American revolution. We must all hang together? Or we will hang separately. Which brings up the final point…"

   "Christ what's that. Afraid to ask…"

   "In the event of… us hanging separately? Because we didn't hang together? Who would be the only one to 'hang', if I were to mysteriously die and disappear, hmm."

   "Me. Again, you're a cold, calculating bastard."

   "Do you know why I don't… offer my services to do certain kinds of… work?"

   "You told me. Your code."

   "Not just that, though that's my primary motivation on that count. Additionally? A contractor that performs… certain types of work? Can sometimes find… himself, the loose end. A generic case? A contract might pay, lets say, ten million to have a prominent politician assassinated. For an additional five million? Why not 'purchase' the life of the operator. For security of the operation. Sick jokes in the industry? It's called purchasing 'additional operation insurance'… or… a 'retirement contract'…"

   "Your… own people… could potentially eliminate you for extra money?"

   Panic nodded.

   "It's a dangerous world to get into. I'm capable of it? And even I don't want any part of it. My advice? Stay out of that world. Understood? I'm not threatening you, I love you. I just need to impress upon you, the seriousness of this. Okay?"

   Merry nodded.

   "I understand."

   Panic kissed her lightly on the forehead, quite affectionately. Turned off the laptop, and removed the little thumb drive he had booted his live operating system off of.

   "Honey?"

   "Yes dear."

   "Is… your light-switch off right now?"

   "No. Once the work is done? I'm fine."

   "How would you… die… and go off grid, if you wanted to?"

   "Hmm. Why would you ask such a thing… just curious…"

   "One day, when I finally retire?"

   Panic smiled.

   "Oh, sure… any number of ways, really. One good one? Blood. Now, let's say I was staying somewhere. There was a health and welfare check on me, no one had heard from me for several days, I missed a dinner date, and they were worried they hadn't heard hide nor hair from me. Common, right?"

   "Sure."

   "Okay. Police force their way into where I'm staying. They find, a huge pool of blood, right on my pillow and the mattress near my pillow. We're talking quarts… and on the floor next to that bed? More quarts of blood. Obvious drag marks that led to the door and outside. It would be helpful if in the several days intervening? Heavy rains. Now… what would you conclude happened, were you to come upon such a scene. Hmm?"

   "Ah… a killer got in, slit your throat in bed… you flailed around, and died on the floor… you're describing enough blood, that no one could possibly have bled that much, and lived."

   "What problems could you come up with, pulling this off?"

   "Well… DNA testing on all that blood, obviously."

   "Right. It would actually be my blood."

   "How?"

   "I run my own private hobby blood bank. I simply collect a pint of blood every so often, until I have enough saved up. I would pour the blood with me actually laying on the bed, to get the body profile right. Then? I would wiggle around and 'fall' onto the floor. Where I would pour the rest. Then? An assistant… would drag my 'lifeless' body out the front door. The heavy rains for several days washed everything outside away. I would probably leave a 'murder weapon' behind around the bed, too. I would definitely cut myself several times, in harmless locations? To ensure small pieces of skin and body hair were down into the blade, and again, what is actually my blood."

   "Hmm. Interesting. Remember when I said, at the end of the eavesdropping operation, I would simply start using my own name after retirement?"

   "Yes…"

   "This sounds even better. Why just disappear when I could be murdered and missing first. As you say, extra layer of security."

   Panic hugged her.

   "And? I'd finally know the correct name to scream out during sex."

   Merry smiled and started chuckling, and Panic caught the giggles with her.

   "How many bags of tater tots would that contract cost, hmm?"

   "Well, price structures vary, according to the difficulty and risk of the contract requirements, naturally… I'm pretty sure? An operation such as that would require some seriously rough, kinky sex. Over a period of time, mind you. And? That's on top of all the tater tots it would cost."

   "But.. it would be possible."

   "Anything's possible."

   Merry spoke as she went and got her little jewelry box and went to the bed. Panic followed her over. Merry prepared a positively huge hand-rolled cigarette for the two of them, and they finished it slowly, continuing long past the point their heads were already swimming. Unable to sleep from the night's sleep and the nap, they laid on each other and simply enjoyed the closeness.

   Merry asked…

   "What were you thinking about dinner?"

   "Hmm. Can you make spaghetti? You claim to be Italian…"

   "Boil the spaghetti. Pour sauce over it. Standard college student cuisine, really."

   "Oh, honey… what about meatballs. What about meat in the sauce?"

   "Hmm. Do you make sauce from scratch?"

   "Lord no. Skykid does, naturally. What I do, is buy cheap spaghetti sauce in bulk? And I brown a shitload of ground meat, and dump it in. That makes half decent sauce."

   "And the meatballs?"

   "You add things like bread crumbs, egg, rice, spinach, parsley… mix it up… then you make the meatballs out of that. I boil them to cook them, save the grease water, and add the sauce to that and simmer it. Skykid does scratch sauce, and goes nuts on the meatballs. I don't go the whole nine yards like he does, I'm not a gourmet like him."

   "So, we're making spaghetti for dinner?"

   "Um, no. We'll just practice making a bunch of sauce and meatballs… and… get a bunch of hoagie buns. Some cheese, and, I can make as many meatball subs as I want for a while. Let's get a bunch extra buns, and, we can make garlic bread too."

   "You sound like you're going to live off of meatball subs, and garlic bread for a couple days."

   "Hey, that's a good couple days."

   "Are you trying to teach me how to cook? Jesus, this is pathetic, the guy has to teach the girl how to cook."

   "No dear. Always remember… I just shoot for what I call 'edible'. Skykid? Is who you want lessons off of. Not me."

   "Hmm. The fuck am I going to do once Skykid goes home?"

   "Internet. Email. A social media video. I'm sure he won't mind, food is one of his biggest joys in life, he's fucking French. He calls my wine I make? Prison hooch. He calls my food I make? Survival food."

   "Hmm. It doesn't bug you to not be good at it?"

   Panic smiled.

   "Merry? Don't have an ego about cooking. It'll just get in the way. Every time. The ego getting bruised? Will keep you from trying to learn. You start to learn and do all right, and brag? Someone will come along and embarrass you for bragging without a good reason. You actually get really good, and brag too much? Same thing, plus, it makes you what I call a 'poor winner'. If you can manage your ego, and stay humble? That's the best thing. That way, you never brag, and… you're always hungry to get better."

   "Is that Skykid's learn to cook pep talk?"

   "No. Actually? That's Little Robbie's fighting lecture, believe it or not. Most people think they can't fight, so, they never try to get good at it. Other guys? Think because they're big and strong, or, big and fat? They're hot shit, and all they ever do is walk around a couple of small towns and push people around. A guy like me or Robbie? Is their worst nightmare."

   "Cooking, and fighting… are the same?"

   "No. Everything is the same. Cooking. Fighting. Shooting. Electronics. HAM radio. Computer programming. Mathematics. Music… everything. Step one? Try it. Read and learn about it. Learn a few basic concepts. Terminology. Step two? You're always looking to learn the next thing. Now… some people? Are just naturally better at some things than others, and they progress faster. That's a strength, you stay humble and keep at it. Use your strengths. The things you're not naturally good at? That's your weakness, always work on your weakness. The three rules then? Always be humble. Use your strengths. Work on your weaknesses. Then? Partner up. Rob is way better than me at machining and welding and fabricating. Me? I'm way better at electronics and computers. If we work together? We can do what neither of us can do alone."

   "I still felt silly, when I froze up in DC that night. Plus? I couldn't even have a gun."

   "I keep telling you, don't think like that. Remember, a waitress living in DC? Isn't supposed to have a gun. And… you weren't trained to be a SWAT team member, you're an undercover pool worker. Apples and oranges. You had no reason to expect combat in the middle of DC, for Christ's sake. You needed help? And you got it. Move on."

   "Yeah, I know. But then… what you did? You made Uncle Mikey's operation so much better, it isn't even funny."

   "Same thing again, honey. You needed a combat specialist, and you found one. Apples and oranges. Don't lose your confidence over it."

   "I guess you're right…"

   "Honey? I can't do what you do, not as good as you do it. And yeah, I'm better at something you have no business having experience in. But, together? We were a hell of a team. Look, Merry… you're kinda a star. You said yourself, Uncle Mikey picked you out, special. He groomed you to be what you are. Merry the waitress? Is going to be the centerpiece, the star, that brings down the trials in DC. I understand your eavesdropping operation now, what it's for. You're really good at what you do."

   "Hmm. You sound like Uncle Mikey now."

   "Why did he pick you out, anyways?"

   "Oh. At the academy? They have little exercises. You pretend to be this or that. People like Uncle Mike? Are looking around for something, and, if they find it? They find it. Apparently, Uncle Mike was looking for a waitress. That he could put right in town. One that he thought would… sort of attract… FBI agents and cops."

   "Not being rude, but, you can't be the only 'waitress' he found…"

   "No. He liked my hobbies. One of which was acting, remember?"

   "Oh, yeah. That would attract an Uncle Mike, I guess."

   "Uh huh. Then? He liked my college sports. I'm athletic. I can rough house with the boys some."

   "Yeah, but… again, not like there aren't a lot of girls coming in from sports…"

   "And Army and Marines, too. But… I guess they don't 'blend in'. They bring other agents in, that don't know? Everyone tries to guess who the undercover workers are. No one ever busted me. The undercover girls? Go in groups. We have girly girls, that look like models. They're great at being strippers, escorts, models, and arm candy. Other girls? Are good at being professional women. Me? I'm part of the 'service girls' club. We're good at being waitress, barmaid, cash register, assistant gopher… like that."

   "I have to admit… I would have never guessed you weren't a waitress, when I met you. And even then I felt silly thinking something was up, until the donut shop. That pushed it over the edge."

   "Doing the exercises? None of the test agents trying to guess, picked me to be the pool worker. A couple of them? Were trying to chat me up and get my number. They actually thought they were trying to get a date with an out of work waitress. Didn't you ever notice, how much cops look like cops? Even out of uniform?"

   "But, you're acting, right?"

   "Doing the exercises… if we're too quiet? We stand out. If we try to be the center of attention? We stand out. All I do, is wear my 'sweetie' face, and a low-key 'sassy' character… and bingo."

   "But… how did you get the perfect job location?"

   "Hmm. Uncle Mikey was willing to wait. I got a job at a truck stop, on the bus line. Any job within so many blocks of the Hoover building? I kept applying for. Less than a year? I was at the steakhouse. How did you meet me?"

   "Hmm. You walk outside the Hoover building, looking for pictures of steaks in the windows? First place you find. That's how me and George came in."

   "Uh huh… brand new jeans and T shirt girl in town, right near the Hoover building. Every FBI business card I got given? And there a pile of them… I handed over to Uncle Mikey. He told me which ones to go out with. It didn't take long, to hit pay dirt. The ones leading up? Mikey passed on anything he found interesting to IA, keeping me out of it."

   "Then the wives thing happened…"

   "Yeah. That was just icing on the cake. Mike held off filing any charges, curious to see what else might happen. That's when Mister Pound took a shine to me, and… Uncle Mikey? Decided to see how that went. Rest is history."

   "Did Uncle Mikey know about… your…"

   "Me being a mild sociopath? Yeah. I told you, I was young and single, I was gonna date anyways. Me being me? I'm just going through the motions, dating. There's a lot of girls that just lay there, you know. That's all any of them got. I told you before, I'm not exactly ashamed of it, but, I'm not proud of it either. They had to wear a rubber, and Uncle Mikey fed me their medical records. I was safe."

   "If I'm a cold, calculating bastard… then…"

   "Yeah. I was a cold, calculating bitch. I'm making this sound like it didn't take long? I've been at this for going on ten years. Very few got their three pumps. Any agent that got rough? IA started watching them. Any agent that tried to powder my nose? Or give me pain pills? IA put them on a list. You'd be surprised, how many of those I turned over, and, they never got anything off me. The less I did? The more they tried. Any agent tried stalking me? IA again. I've never set foot in the Hoover building once, only Uncle Mikey runs me. All the fuck-ups? IA puts them on surveillance, and… they get busted on their next girlfriend. Not me. Or, IA just interviews their ex girlfriends, and… same thing."

   "How many careers have you ended?"

   Merry smiled ever so sweetly, then casually dropped her face all at once.

   "Remember you told me that night, you lost count? Well… I lost count a couple years in."

   Merry put her normal smile Panic liked back on…

   "I'm not as big of a… whore… as you might think. Most of the busts? Were them acting up trying to get to go out with me. Lots more? Were them dating me, and me not putting out yet. If an FBI business card was a high risk name, to Uncle Mikey and IA? Eh… they might get the occasional three pumps, if they seemed like they might be… a high value target, so to speak."

   "What about that thing, you said you swore off men for a while…"

   "Ha. Any girl 'swears off men' when she breaks up with some guy… and it's funny… the longer I did it? The more business cards I got, the more they acted up."

   "Then, you finally landed your famous third agent boyfriend…"

   Merry smiled broadly…

   "Yep. Uncle Mikey was psyched. IA already had him being butt buddies with way too many DC cops, that were on the city IA list. Oh, I worked his ass good. I got him drunk and passed out, and some techie copied his hard drive on his laptop. I went through his personal phone, his work phone, and his burner phone. I put bugs and trackers on him here and there. He'd take me out and meet guys? I'd go dancing and drinking… and my phone was rigged to be transmitting the conversation, even if he turned it off."

   "Hmm. When you met me. Was I just…"

   Merry chuckled.

   "No dear. By this stage of the game? I'd come clean on that. You were my own, personal, oh-my-god I picked you out and wanted you for my own. I swear. Did I see your consultant badge? Sure. I never lied to you about that… I overheard you telling George, how you gave up your job and your woman and your whole life? To pursue your case, whatever it is. I told you, I can't tell you enough… after all I've seen and been through? As jaded as I am? I heard that, and I got hit like a ton of bricks. I honestly got weak in the knees, and got dizzy. I wasn't kidding about having to change my panties."

   "I never get tired hearing it… go on…"

   "Honey? I never heard of a guy being like that, much less ever seen one before. I was afraid I was honestly going to faint. I started hanging out at your table, and trying to flirt with you. When you wandered back in? I did everything but throw myself at you. Then… you actually thought we were supposed to watch movies, and eat takeout in bed? You fell asleep? Christ… you were killing me… so yeah, the next morning? I'd had enough… I fucking raped you. I wasn't taking no for an answer."

   "How did this go over with Uncle Mikey? I'm figuring out he knew about me long before me and him met…"

   "Oh yeah. I woke his ass up with our burner phones? And made him run your background while we were 'walking around' that first night. Once he gave me the green light you were clean? And I got you into my apartment? You were not getting out of my apartment without getting raped. Uncle Mikey, is, about the only person I can be myself with before you came along, so, he was making fun of me for acting like such a teenage girl. It was funny."

   "What did Uncle Mike think about… that time you scored the Gamma for me, when I met your biker friends…"

   "Oh. At first? He was sure you were doing a sort of normal guy thing. You know, pretending to be hot shit? Guys lie to get laid, you know. You'd be surprised how many guys claim to be FBI agents, and just work in an office in DC. It's funny."

   "At first… then?"

   "Well, remember, I have a masters in Psych. He knows I'm good enough at it, I'm usually right on stuff. I told him, the boys were treating you differently than they treat normal citizens in that situation. You made them slightly nervous. When I told him your story about the equator job? He got back to me the next day, he had read some stuff that fit with your story… he said to watch it, you might be a real psycho. Remember… Uncle Mikey? Came to the FBI from military intelligence. He said, you knew way too much about the problems down at the equator. Little stuff, that was never in the papers, that you shouldn't know. You made Uncle Mikey nervous at first."

   "Not you?"

   "No, not really. I was so into you, though… I had to know if you could be dangerous or not. Remember, I've hauled off and slapped you several times. Pretty hard. One time? I pasted a couple in a row on you. Once? When you were pretty drunk? Nothing. No, if you were dangerous to be around… you'd have clipped me back. Remember, Mikey's up IA's ass… the feebs got your nickname pegged right, that's for sure. I know they call you 'the boy scout' behind your back. It's appropriate. No, as dangerous as you might be? You're fucking harmless to women, children and small animals."

   "So, you really were trying to get me to backhand you…"

   "I had to know. If you were going to snap one day, like a dog turning on it's owner. I was willing to get a good one for it, but… you're really something else. That one night? I lit you up, like, three times. Hard. You just looked at me… you don't even care. There's only one time, you were even remotely scary… that was the night you were afraid I might have killed or seriously hurt the donut girl."

   "How was that to you…"

   "Weird. You really are some kind of boy scout, you know. I mean, I realized… I can light you up and leave a mark on your face? You could give a shit less… but… you thought I might be hurting civilians bad? You were ready to either take me in, or, you also offered to cover it up and clean it up."

   "Was that first taste of date rape, another test?"

   "No, not really. I honestly was jealous, and… it was hard to believe you're actually clueless when girls are hitting on you. Later on? I remembered… you didn't know I was throwing myself at you, until George told you. You gotta understand, I'm not kidding when I say that sometimes, out of nowhere? You just do something so sweet, like when you let the old couple think we were married? Oh, god… then I thought you were fucking with me, laughing at the sneak out for donuts thing, was the secret to a happy relationship? Yeah… I shouldn't have done that."

   "Well, it wasn't all bad. I let you drown me? And I got into the Merry club. I look at it, like it was a breakthrough."

   Merry pushed him gently back on the bed, and slid over his hips to sit on him, kissing him.

   "That's the thing, honey. Lord knows when I'm in the mood for it? The rougher, the better. You? Don't seem to need to be in the mood, you just let me do anything I want, anytime I feel like it."

   "What's wrong with that? If you like it…"

   "That's the thing. Your taste test, to try out the new mattress? I'm not supposed to actually be jealous or mad during rough sex. I've read about it, trust me… I know the rules. That was wrong of me to do that. If you haven't noticed, I've been kind of… postponing… your romantic rape night, kinda. You're in the Merry club, you don't have to let me drown you. I'm worried I might do something you don't like…"

   "Well, quit worrying about it then. You wanna know a secret?"

   "I thought you didn't like secrets…"

   "Some secrets are okay. This morning? When you got wet and called it an emergency?"

   Merry all but blushed and bit her lower lip like a schoolgirl…

   "Yeah… I was embarrassed… I had to beg for sex, like a little girl… and the more you teased me? Mm…"

   "I get the same way about you… and this morning? Yeah…"

   "Well then, that's what you like…"

   "No. Merry? You're the expert, and… you got all this science girl stuff down pat, trust me. But, there's something you missed."

   "What…"

   "You don't have to try to be anything for me. It's not like, you have to do this, or be like that… to keep me. You… don't have to try that hard. Whatever you're in the mood for? Is probably fine."

   "Really? I'm always trying to figure out what---"

   "Right. Look Merry… there's, like, three kinds of fucking different women do. Some girls, a lot of them actually… just more or less lay there, with this retarded look on their face."

   Merry smiled.

   "That's submissive women. Or, a woman being submissive. Some guys, a lot of them? Actually like that."

   "Okay… some girls… I don't know, us guys call it… they fuck you back… there's also really aggressive women? They… well, they usually fuck you…"

   "Well? Which one do you like?"

   "Merry, that's just it. You do all three, and, sometimes you're in the middle, leaning more one way or the other… I pretty much enjoy it all. What's the middle one, the girl fucks you back called?"

   "Different things. I prefer the one term, she's an 'active participant'…"

   "And, what's the girl that rapes you called?"

   "Aggressive to dominant. It's a range. They're all in ranges…"

   "Oh. What were you this morning?"

   "Pretty submissive, but, slightly an active participant."

   "Yeah… pretty much, whatever you're in the mood for? Good chance I'm into it. Okay? Quit worrying about it… do you wanna know what the switching around is like for me? It's like instead of just buying a car? I get to walk around the car lot, and I get a different car to drive every time I go. It's… a really good deal."

   Merry just looked down at him, her hands on his shoulders, smiling. Biting her lower lip like a little girl, as she had done that morning. The dopey look was back on her face again. She looked like she was going to blush, but just managed not to. She kissed him, and laid her head down and talked into his neck.

   "Thanks… you're really good to me, you know that? I told you before, I… never had this before, and I don't wanna lose it… for anything…"

   "That's just it, Merry. When it's love? You don't have to try. Everything's already okay, that's why you even got to that point. If you don't start acting like a spoiled cunt, like most women seem to? You're fine."

   "All right. Thanks…"

   Panic let her lay on him for a little while. She didn't go to sleep, but, she didn't try to talk or do anything either. He just idly ran one hand over her back and shoulders, the other up and down her upper leg. They laid like that for a while.

   "Merry?"

   "Hmm…"

   "Are we going to go and get the meatball stuff?"

   "I guess we have to…"

   "Merry, can I ask you something, and you promise not to take it the wrong way?"

   "Sure…"

   "Are you, like, a nympho or something?"

   Merry laughed into his neck, then sat up on him, still laughing. Smiling, she answered him.

   "No. An actual nymphomaniac? They're addicted to sex. They'll fuck nearly anyone, anytime, anyplace. Nothing but the act of sex itself drives them. Think of it… like a drug addict. Doesn't really matter where they get their drug, as long as they get it."

   "So."

   Merry smiled and bit her thumb, like a little girl.

   "Okay. I'm… I'm in love, like a young girl. I admit it… and…"

   "And… here we go…"

   "And… I've been thinking about this. I think, I'm hitting… you know, that phase…"

   "What phase?"

   "Men hit their sexual peak, in their late teens, then it trails down really slowly, the rest of their lives."

   "And women…"

   "Women have an initial small peak in their teens, a little dip, then… it ramps up… stays high… and ramps down a long time later. A plateau, on a graph."

   "Hmm. And… when does this start and end?"

   Merry continued to smile, bite her thumb, and shrugged…

   "30 to 45 or even 50 is normal… at the end of the plateau? Menopause starts… I'm thinking I'm into the plateau…"

   "So, you're going to be like this, for 15 or 20 years? Jesus…"

   Merry bit her thumb and giggled, nodding her head.

   "Christ… how am I supposed to get any work done?"

   Merry shrugged.

   "In between fucking, I suppose. Is it going to be a problem?"

   "Eh. I'll just have to get used to it."

   Merry laughed, and nodded. Slightly silly.

   Panic smacked her hip, and pretended to be annoyed with her.

   "Come on, plateau girl… put some clothes on. Meatballs, remember? It's Sunday, the grocery store ain't open all fucking day, you know."