She licked that sexy scar of his. "I couldn't agree more with what you just said about taking things slow, and this...this...this is wholly unlike me."

He twisted his head to the other side, and kissed her from a different angle. "Me, too. I mean, I never-" he got momentarily hung up as he helped her strip off the wet bathrobe. It fell to the floor. "-do anything rash like this."

"Rash, that's the word." J.C. raised her chin so that he could trail kisses down her neck. She tugged at his T-shirt and jimmied it up, yanking it over one ear. "I mean, I'm nothing if the soul-" she gasped when he returned the favor by lifting her tank top over her head and exposing her naked breasts "-of discretion."

Liam felt the blood rush to the back of his eyeballs. What was left, pooled between his legs. "Discretion is good, very good." He ran his hands up and down the sides of her long torso, then up again, the last time with his thumbs splayed wide. When they came in contact with the undersides of her rounded breasts, he stilled his hands. "You're...you're..."

J.C. sucked in air. Her eyeballs rolled upwards. "Wet." She reached out blindly for Liam. Her hands found the waistband of his jeans. Her fingers ran along the inside rim, meeting at the center.

"Exactly," he gasped as she slid her fingers farther in and twisted them against his stomach, manipulating open the metal fastener. His hand joined hers, and he pressed her fingers against the front of his pants, reveling in the pressure of her fingers atop his engorged penis.

J.C. could feel the heat permeating the denim of his pants. "Do you think we're being, I don't know, impetuous?" Although she had no intention of removing her hand.

"Is that such a bad thing?" He lowered his head and sucked a nipple into his mouth. His pants only felt tighter.

J.C. gasped. "I guess not." She let her head drop to the side.

He pulled at the drawstring of her pants and the walls of Jericho came tumbling down. J.C. melted like microwaved Velveeta as he pulled her to the oriental rug on the floor.

His gaze roamed her body, and where his eyes traveled, his fingertips followed. Her collarbone, between her breasts, to her belly button for a sly little scoop, then lower. He traced the triangle of hair between her legs, the inside of one thigh, then up the other, skimming the nail of his index finger across the top of her thigh and to her hipbone, before sliding across an imaginary bikini line and back down to the nexus of her legs.

He shimmied down the carpet and positioned his head above her stomach. Forming his lips into a circle, he blew out, tickling her skin, ruffling her springy curls, and inducing a rapid influx of moisture between her legs.

J.C. gulped. So this is what foreplay was all about? Not some fumbling below-the-waist action on the part of a teenager. Not the desperate connection between one human being and another on a Saturday night when the only other action is watching college basketball on TV.

And that wish of hers, the one about aligning the sun, moon and stars?

Well, she had suddenly become a believer in astrology. How else to explain the way her body was surging with energy? Now she understood why people hardly ever had their fantasies fulfilled. If they did, there'd be massive power realignments, causing unexplained blackouts up and down the Eastern seaboard.

Then he rubbed his cheek back and forth against the juncture of her legs, and J.C. nearly fell apart.

"I mean, what we're doing, now -" J.C. had to wonder aloud between gasps "-like this, I mean, is it even real?"

Liam raised his face and smiled. "Honey, this-" he lowered his mouth and breathed in deeply"-is about as real as it gets."

He placed his hands on her hips, and then his mouth buried into her.

J.C.'s pelvis lifted off the ground involuntarily. Her jaw dropped open. Her fingers clawed in the pile of the carpet.

And when his tongue lapped her clitoris, she started to reconsider. Maybe there was such a thing as luck after all?

###

Talk about responsive. Liam nearly went off like a rocket when J.C.'s hips bucked off the floor.

He had always had a thing for women -- the look of them, the feel, the smell. But with J.C. Schubach, this thing of his was more like a THING. And the preliminaries to sex were quickly producing the kind of response that he usually associated with...well...sex, and then, only on rare occasions when the placement of elbows here and knees there didn't seem to get in the way of total physical fulfillment.

But with J.C., his THING seemed to have moved beyond the purely physical. It was like entering some all-consuming, uncontrollable state, like some sex-crazed aliens had infiltrated his gonads and were dictating a frenzied state of arousal.

This couldn't be healthy.

But Liam was willing to risk it. Even if it meant cavorting with extraterrestrials. Especially if it involved anything with J.C. Schubach.

He pressed his lips more firmly against her slick labia, and worked his tongue into her opening. Then easing one hand from her hip, he found her clitoris with his thumb, and gently circled, rubbing smooth, light strokes, gradually increasing the tempo and providing an arousing counterpoint to the stabbing motion of his tongue within her sensitive orifice.

J.C. focused on the amazing things happening between her legs - in disbelief and utter greed. So much for worrying about whether she'd shaved recently or whether the guy was enjoying himself. From his spirited activities, Liam McDonald seemed to be quite into it. Quite into her - and her needs.

As was J.C. For the first time -- at least the first time with a partner -- all J.C. cared about was the build-up, her build-up, and she was doing it without the aid of picturing Antonio Banderas or a battery-operated, hand-held appliance. She was into herself, into her body, sensing the blood rush between her legs, the ultra-sensitivity of her nipples, the flush of her skin.

She squeezed her eyes shut and grabbed Liam's shoulders as the throbbing mounted. She could practically see it grow as the adrenaline built in her body and the surge of pleasure intensified beyond the so-so sexual buzz that usually accompanied her climaxes.

She gasped. This was no buzz. J.C. could feel her brain start to short circuit. She could feel the loss of awareness in her extremities. She existed strictly as nerve endings and skin and wetness centered in that one core place, from which she was spiraling out of control.

Her nails dug into his skin, trying to get purchase, trying to keep herself grounded. But with yet another and another jab of his tongue, he wouldn't let her.

There it was -- the flashpoint. Her hips levitated six inches in the air. And she came so hard she screamed, loud enough to wake the dead.

Well, maybe not that loud. But certainly loud enough to rattle her mother's soup tureens in the dining room breakfront.

###

Liam lifted his head. He'd never had a woman come apart in his hands the way J.C. just did. And while he didn't doubt the effectiveness of his sexual technique, J.C.'s reaction went beyond responding to his prowess. In fact, it wasn't a response, but an outpouring of her body from within.

Liam felt the immediate urge to let go himself, as a relief, a satiation, but also more. He wanted to thank her for being so open, give her an appropriate gift of himself in return. Be open in a way he had never been before.

Liam raised himself above her chest, gulping for air, dizzy with power. "Protection?"

He was giddy but not stupid.

"Protection?" J.C. opened her eyes and looked around cluelessly.

"Contraception? Do you have any?"

"Contraception?" J.C.'s head shot up. "Right? You didn't bring anything?"

Liam ran his hand through his hair to pull it off his forehead. Useless, really, since it sprang forward again. "No, I don't usually carry condoms when I go gardening. At most, I thought we'd talk, maybe have a Dr. Pepper."

"Did you say Dr. Pepper?" Talk about sweet. Sweetness and sex -- the combination was devastating. The desire that much more intense.

"Phoebe gave me some condoms for a birthday present. There up in the nightstand next to my bed."

"I had this instant good feeling about your friend, Phoebe, even if she doesn't wear red shoes." Liam levered himself up and held out a hand. "Lead the way."

She raised a rubbery limb. "I'm not convinced I can stand."

He lifted her up and cradled her against his warm chest. "Why don't we have you save your energies for other activities? Upstairs, I presume?"

She nodded, and he took them two at a time. When he got to the landing, he headed toward the larger bedroom on the right.

"No, I'm the room to the left," J.C. corrected. The larger room contained her parents' double bed, but the thought of doing it in their four-poster. Nah...

Liam used his back to push open the half-closed door and did a double take. It was like being caught in early teenage girl-land circa nineteen eighty, what with the cheerleading pompoms, well-thumbed copy of Judy Blume's Are You There God, and Scooby Doo alarm clock.

J.C. saw his startled reaction. "This was my parents' house. I only moved back and since I was thinking of selling the place anyway, I haven't bothered redecorating. Just be glad I don't have my Patrick Swayze Dirty Dancing bedspread anymore."

"For that I am eternally grateful."

Then she glanced at the twin bed. "Is it too narrow?"

"Not to worry. I'm nothing if not adaptable." He dumped her somewhat less than gracefully on the chenille throw, her naked butt rubbing against the fluffy nubs of the material.

Then he kicked off his well-worn running shoes and went to work on taking off his pants in quick order. The age-old question: Would it be boxers or briefs?

The jeans dropped to the floor and he stepped out of them.

J.C. blinked. "I guess you are adaptable, after all."

###

The box of condoms still wore the ribbon Phoebe had used to mark her present. J.C. tore it off, pulled out a packet and ripped open the foil.

"You sure it will fit?" J.C. asked, comparing the shriveled prophylactic with Liam's forcefully erect penis. Her question about size shifted beyond the condom.

With a practiced hand, Liam slid it up the length of his member. "I'm sure we'll figure it out."

J.C. leaned back, prepared for a brief coupling allowing Liam to get to the good part, so to speak. After all, she had already had her fair share of experiences for one day: a hangover, new flowers, having the earth move.

Little did she know. Because she found herself sitting up, with her legs draped this way and that, his mouth on hers, his hands on her nipples before moving deliciously lower. Then they were both on their knees, their eyes locked, their hands joined at the sides, and his penis jutting against her skin, all silky and hard.

That was until she crumbled backwards and he came down with her. He flipped her over to her stomach and spooned her back to his stomach, the length of him touching the length of her, his knees pressing against the super-sensitive backs of hers. And when he entered from behind, slipping in, tight but oh so right, and began stroking, long, slow strokes, the pleasure built little by little -- then by leaps and bounds -- leaving J.C. grinding her teeth and teetering on the brink yet again.

She grabbed his hand, which was splayed over her stomach, and guided it lower, using it to rub against her pubis, gently. No, that wasn't right. She didn't want gentle.

And he knew it, pressing harder, firmer, increasing the movement of his hips at the same time, so that the sensations grew. From without and from within.

J.C. gasped, arched her head back, and felt the world shatter around her.

At the same time, Liam lifted his head off the pillow -- which was a good thing, since J.C. would have smacked him but good in the nose -- and thrust one more time, so deep they were combined in a way that seemed to go beyond the linking of anatomical parts to something evanescent yet sublimely eternal. Like the resonating, triumphal end of Handel's "Halleluiah Chorus" or the blinding grandeur upon first sighting the Taj Mahal. It was pure poetry.

Not to mention great sex.