Laurel had a firm, athletic body, and she was expert at using it. A little too expert, I thought when we were done. The lovemaking wasn't exactly by the numbers, but she did order everything on the menu, like a teenage kid trying to impress his date. She'd impressed me, all right. She'd also worn me out a little too soon to do my ego any good, although she seemed to take my lack of staying power as a compliment. Seeing me tangled in the sheets, spent, sweating, and out of breath, she'd grinned with satisfaction, as if in her world wearing her partner to a nub was as close as she ever got to expressing affection. Only that wasn't quite fair. Afterward she sat at the top of the bed, her legs and hips covered with the sheets, her small round breasts and flat tummy exposed, and watched me with what I took to be genuine pleasure as I dressed. "What are you grinning at?" I said to her as I put on my shirt. "I had a good time," she said, "so I'm smiling.
