“I can’t say anything more that that.”Ah. Whatever answers they had were classified, I guessed. Heck, we were probably classified. Sheila brough... my wife, Ann, forward to sit with me, collected the samples, and went up on deck. Ann apparently had a monster headache, too, but hadn’t fallen and hit her head.“How are you, babe?” I asked.“What the fuck is going on?” She asked.“We may have been exposed to something dangerous. We’re under quarantine,” I told her.“Are they going to lock us up?”Jim. “And now gimme that kiss. You want it too. I can tell.”Angered by his persistent self-confidence, his sheer audacity, she looks at him. He reads confusion in her eyes: growing lust mixed with rampaging rage. Too easy to fathom, clearly not used to direct confrontation. Easy prey.His face still in her iron grip, he slides his hand into her hood. Pulls her by the neck; a peck on the lips. She's trembling. Tears in eyes. Fighting with lust. Just one fleeting kiss and yet...“Impressive, isn't it?. More

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