Well, I guess she meant tonight. Right now. Shes here. She actually started driving up here without even waiting to see if I wanted her to. I guess I cant blame her for that; must have been all those times before when I said, Why dont you drive on up here? So she touched my knee while we were sitting on the couch, and she just kept looking at me with this creamy look in her eyes, and I mean I have been raging. Hot, and I mean sick with it. God I wanted to fuck her, just roll over and start banging. She showed me her tattoo: a casual flip of her panties to expose her butt crack, then she squatted down in front of me, the curvature of that fuckable ass inches from my face. All I could do was stare and say, Nice. So I have been pretending to sleep. Dick hard most of the time. She put her hot hand on my ass for a while, just left it sitting there, sending insistent little waves of horny annoyance into my flesh til it rattled my bones. But still I didnt move. Then, finally, after getting up to pee and shifting positions one or two times, I had the dream: Were starting to rub together at last. I kiss her once, barely. I bite her neck gently and she moans, Cant. I say, What do you mean, cant? She says, How long are you going to keep doing this to me? I say, Doing to you? Youre the one who drove up here! and with that, she lifts me up off her, bodily, and slams me down on the floor next to her, enraged. She starts gathering her things to leave, all the while ranting, and accusing me of lying about various things: I can feel your three hands on my back, like an artist! Well, its time to stop drawing this picture...What do you do, anyway, to make all this money? I tell her I work in the bookstore, and I work at my schoolwork, just like I said before, but she squints at me and doesnt believe me. I am unable to control a slight leer, a slight grin, as I grab at her wrists over by the heater. She shrinks away in horror. I say, Im not going to hurt you. She says, Oh yeah, try and make it better now. Its too late. Then there is something about a stepfather--hers?--named Sylvia, who is perhaps outside the apartment; Im not sure because then I wake up, still lying next to her, and start telling her, I had this scary dream. We had a fight-- She says, thats funny, because I dreamed the same thing. There was this stepfather guy named Sylvia or something-- I say, Right. But in my dream, he was in my dream... Then there is a thumping noise at the window. All the shades are open, have been throughout. There is a tall, but slightly hunched, dark, cloaked figure with a rubber mallet. He thumps on the windows, and moves on toward the door. She and I are lying on the blanket, in full view. My mind is racing Who-the-fuck-is-that, who-the-fuck-is-that, who-the-fuck-is-that... then finally, I try to think, Weapons, weapons... but I can think of none. My heart is pounding. I find myself withdrawing my hand from her pussy, suddenly losing interest. Then I really wake up. My heart-pounding gently subsides, the shades are all pulled down. She is asleep or at least quiet beside me. I realize I cant have sex with her, I realize the dream was telling me how betraying Anne and myself would feel. Sylvia is the dark, looming character of betrayal from Annes stories shes told me. The guy with the hammer threatens safety, violates. The lies the woman accused me of, at once absurd and completely accurate. The hatred that shone from her eyes.... It is all just too much. I cant do it. But how do I keep from doing it? Shes going to be here for over two days, and she keeps having that look-- Warrior. Also, right now, Im going to go masturbate so maybe I can get some fucking sleep. Incidentally, the thumping noise at the window was probably really caused by her cat, that looks like it oughta be in the house of a rich girl--voluptuous 19-year-old redhead with sweet snatch--with a polished ebony Yamaha grand piano for it to sit on.