That stopped her. She turned and almost shrieked at him.

"What? What are you saying? Killed who? Can you even listen to yourself?"

He paused, hoping she would calm down. This wasn't going the way he had thought or hoped it would. He needed an admission from her. Instead, she was starting to cry.

"Nicole, I loved you. I don't know what is wrong with me, because, fuck it, I still do."

She composed herself, wiped her cheeks and folded her arms across her chest.

"Okay, will you do me one favor, Henry?" she asked quietly.

"Haven't you gotten enough from me? What more do you want?"

"Would you please sit down on that chair there and I'll sit over here."

She directed him to the chair and then she moved behind the one where she would sit.

"Just sit down and do me this favor. Tell me what has happened. Tell me as though I didn't know anything about it. I know you don't believe that but I want you to tell me like you do. Tell me it like a story. You can say whatever you want to say about me in the story, any bad thing, but just tell it. From the start. Okay, Henry?"

Pierce slowly sat down on the chair she had pointed him to. He stared at her the whole time, watched her eyes. When she stepped over and sat down across from him he began to tell the story.

"I guess you could say this started twenty years ago. On the night I found my sister in Hollywood. And I didn't tell my stepfather about it."

An hour later Pierce stood in the bedroom and saw that nothing had changed. Right down to the stack of books on the floor next to her side of the bed, nothing seemed different. He stepped over to look at the book that was opened and left on the pillow where he used to sleep. It was called Iguana Love and he wondered what it was about.

She came up behind him and lightly touched his shoulders with her fingers. He turned into her and she brought up her hands to hold his face while she studied the scars running across his nose to his eye.

"I'm sorry, baby," she said.

"I'm sorry for that downstairs. That I doubted you. I'm sorry for everything about this past year. I thought I could keep you and still work like -"

Her hands went behind his neck and she pulled him down into a kiss. He turned her and gently pushed her down onto the edge of the bed in a sitting position. He then slid down to his knees on the floor in front of her. With his hands he gently spread her knees and moved forward between them. He then leaned further into her and they kissed again. This time longer and harder. It seemed so long since he had felt the contours of her lips with his own.

He reached down to her hips and pulled her toward him. He didn't do it gently. Soon he felt one of her hands on the back of his neck and the other working the buttons of his shirt. They struggled with each other's clothing until finally they broke apart to work on their own clothes. Both knew without saying anything that it would be faster.

They worked with gathering momentum. When he pulled his shirt off she grimaced at the sight of the bruising on his chest and side. But then she leaned forward and kissed him there. And when they were finally naked they moved onto the bed and pulled each other together in an embrace that was fueled by equal parts carnal lust and tender longing. He realized that all the while he had missed her, missed her sense and the emotional makeup of their relationship, he had also missed her body. He had a flat-out craving for the touch and taste of her body.

He pushed his face down to her breasts and then slowly moved further down, pressing his nose into her skin, holding the gold ring that pierced her skin between his teeth for a moment and tugging it before moving down further. She had her neck back and her throat exposed and vulnerable. Her eyes were closed and the back of one hand was against her mouth, the knuckle of one finger between her teeth.

When she was ready and he was ready he moved up over her body and took her hand and brought it to his center so she could guide him. It had always been their way, their routine. She moved slowly, taking him to her place, her legs coming up his sides and crossing behind him. He opened his eyes to look down on her face. One time he had brought the goggles home and they had taken turns wearing them. He knew at this moment her face would register a wonderfully velvety purple on the vision field.

She stopped and opened her own eyes. He felt her let go of him.

"What?" he said.

She sighed.

"What?" he asked again.

"I can't."

"Can't what?"

"Henry, I am so sorry but I can't do this."

She unhooked her legs and dropped them to the bed. She then brought both her hands up to his chest and started to push him off. He resisted.

"Get off me, please."

"You're kidding, right?"

"No. Get off!"

He rolled onto his side, next to her. She immediately sat up on the edge of the bed, her back to him. She folded her arms and leaned over, as if huddling with herself, the points of her spine creating a beautiful ridge on her naked back. Pierce reached up and lightly touched her neck and then ran his thumb down her spine like he was moving it across the keys of a piano.

"What is it, Nicki? What's the matter?"

"I thought after what we talked about downstairs that this would be good. That it was something we needed. But it's not. We can't do this, Henry. It's not right. We're not together anymore and if we do this -I don't know. I just can't. I'm sorry."

Pierce smiled, though she could not see this with her back to him. He reached over and touched the tattoo on her right hip. It was small enough to go unseen most of the time. He only discovered it the first night they had made love. It intrigued him and turned him on in the same way the belly button ring had. She called it a kanji. It was fu, the Chinese character pictogram that meant "happiness." She had told him that it was a reminder that happiness came from within, not material things.

She turned and looked at him.

"Why are you smiling? I would think you'd be upset. Any other man would be."

He shrugged.

"I don't know. I guess I understand."

But slowly it dawned on her. What he had done. She stood up from the bed and turned to him. She reached over for a pillow and held it up in front of her, to cover herself. The message was clear. She no longer wanted to be naked with him.

"What?"

"You bastard."

"What are you talking about?"

He saw the sparks in her eyes but this time she wasn't crying.

"This was a test, wasn't it? Some sort of perverted test. You knew if I fucked you, then everything downstairs was a lie."

"Nicki, I don't think -"

"Get out."

"Nicole…"

"You and your goddamned tests and experiments. I said, Get out!"

Embarrassed now by what he had done, he stood up and started putting on his clothes, pulling on his underwear and jeans at the same time.

"Can I say something?"

"No. I don't want to hear you."

She turned and walked to the bathroom. She dropped the pillow and walked casually, showing him the back side of her body as if taunting him with it. Letting him understand that he would never see it again.

"I'm sorry, Nicole. I thought that -"

She closed the bathroom door loudly. She never looked back at him.

"Go," he heard her say from within.

Then he heard the shower come on and he knew she was washing away his touch for the final time.

Pierce finished dressing and went down the stairs. He sat on the bottom step and put on his shoes. He wondered how had he been so desperately wrong about her.

Before leaving, he went back into the living room and stood before her bookcase. The shelves were crowded. Hardcover books only. It was an altar to knowledge and experience and adventure. He remembered one time walking into the living room and finding her on the couch. She wasn't reading. She was just looking up at her books.