ANYTHING  

     The wipers traced their restless path back and forth
across the windscreen, giving clear vision for only a moment 
before the slashing rain again obscured the view.  
     It was a metaphor for his life, Lance thought, as he 
peered through the heavy rain.  Moments of insight quickly
clouded by the splashes of the seemingly random movements
of the others in his life.  Elaine, normally a treasure, 
had been distracted of late, yet would not tell him why.  
Now she was gone--a one week visit to her sister.  They 
were married.  They were supposed to share their troubles.  
What had happened?  All he knew was that he was hurting.
     It had been two lonely days.  No calls on the telephone,
no word.  It hurt.  The wild impulse was to hurt back.  He
crushed that impulse, ruthlessly.  He was better than that.
     Lance grimaced as an oncoming car drove by with its
high-beams on--as if the weather by itself weren't enough,
he thought.  His own beams swept past a lone figure, standing
in the lee of a lamp standard, thumb stuck out.  A hell of a 
night for hitch-hiking, he shook his head, and a hell of a
place to hitch-hike.
     "Ah, hell," he muttered out loud and turned at the next
cross street.  Lance doubled back then turned once more 
onto the main thoroughfare.  This time he slowed down to take
a better look.  Picking up hitch-hikers could be dangerous,
yet he hated to see them passed by, cold and wet, with little
hope of a ride.
     The figure, wrapped in a rain slicker held out her thumb
once more.  'Her'?  Yes.  It was a woman.  There was a small
back-pack beside her.  Damn.  He'd hoped that this person was
simply going to another location in the city.  Well, maybe 
she was.  
     "Where are you going?" he asked the wet face that 
appeared in the open window.  Lance grimaced when she gave 
as her destination a town some 200 km north.
     "Sorry, I'm not leaving town, but I can get you to a
better location."
     "Great!" The face smiled.  "This isn't a good city to
hitch-hike through.  Nowhere for cars to stop."  The woman
opened the door and quickly slipped inside, placing her pack
on the floor at her feet.  
     The window was already on the way up as she closed the
door, and Lance started the car forward immediately.  A 
glance in the rear-view mirror had shown approaching 
headlights and he was in no mood to be involved in an 
accident.  He shifted smoothly through the gears, 
accelerating until he reached his cruising speed--about 
5 km/h below the limit.  
     The headlights in his mirror drew ever closer, then
disappeared as the vehicle pulled into the fast lane and 
whipped past him.  Lance shrugged his shoulders and shook 
his head sadly, too many accidents were caused by driving 
faster than conditions safely allowed.  
     Next to him, the young woman was pulling off her hood,
revealing a full head of chestnut brown hair.  More than that
he didn't notice--driving required his full concentration.
     "Thanks for stopping.  I really appreciate it."  Her
voice was smooth and soft on his ears.
     "You're welcome.  It's a bad night.  You'd probably
be better off spending the night and starting again in the
morning."  He slowed to a stop at a red light.
     The young woman smiled, "I wish I could, but I have to
be there by 9:00 a.m. tomorrow."  She glanced at him, then
did a double take.
     "Something wrong?"
     "No.  For a moment you reminded me of someone, but I
guess I've never met you before."  Susan wondered if it could
be him, but dismissed the thought.  It would be too much of
a coincidence.
     Lance turned and looked more closely at her.  She had
dark brown eyes that fairly glowed and he was caught up in
them for a moment before a horn sounded.
     "Damn."  The light had changed.  He still hadn't had
a good look at her face.  "I'm pretty sure we've never met.
I would have remembered you."  She gave him a sharp look,
which he caught in his peripheral vision, then returned
her gaze to the road.
     "Too bad about having to get there tonight.  I fear you
are going to get quite wet."  Lance switched the wipers to 
high speed as the rain suddenly increased in intensity.
     "Yeah.  I'd do *anything* for a single ride all the way
through."  She grinned as his head gave a sharp jerk, denoting
his surprise.  "Well, that's my dream, anyways."
     Lance laughed.  He lowered his voice as much as he could
and injected a leer into it:  "Anything?"  Once again she 
looked at him sharply, and he wondered why.  It was only a
joke.  
     Susan contemplated the situation.  If it was him,
what was he playing at?  Was he simply joking, or was it 
something more.  Should she draw him out, test him?  The 
devil-may-care attitude which had landed her in so much
trouble in the past leapt at the opportunity.
     "Anything," she confirmed in a steady, confident voice.
     The word hit Lance like none other ever had.  Was this
woman serious?  If she was, would he take her up on it?
No one had ever offered 'anything' before.  He pulled his 
thoughts back on track before they ran away with the 
possibilities.
     The car came to a halt at another red light.  Lance 
slowly turned his head to look at the woman next to him.
She was looking straight ahead.  
     "You sound serious."  His eyebrows were lowered in
doubt.  He shouldn't be doing this.  Why was he pushing it?
     "I am."  Susan's stomach jumped as she spoke.  There.
It was out.  The next move was up to him.  She turned to
look at him.  Now it was he who was staring out the window, 
lips pursed.
     The rain, which had moderated in the last minute, again
increased in intensity, drumming on the car roof.  The man 
relaxed, a decision made.  The light changed.  Susan heard 
the ticking of the signal light and the car turned off the 
thoroughfare.
     "Where are we going?" she asked, her heart pounding.
What *had* she done.
     "I've just accepted your offer.  I'll get you where
you are going before 9:00 a.m. tomorrow.  In return, you
have agreed to do anything.  This is correct?"
     "Yes."  She was uncertain.  Her resolve came back.  She
had to know.  "What do you want?"
      Lance laughed.  "What does it matter?  You've already
agreed, in advance, to 'anything'.
      Susan's heart was beating rapidly as they moved through
the residential streets.  Was she really up for this?  Would
she really go through with it?  
     "Where are we going?" she asked again, determined not
to be put off this time.
     "To my house," he answered.
     "And how do I know that, once I've completed my end
of the bargain, you won't just put me out to fend for 
myself?"
     The man shrugged.  "I guess, all you have is my word."
     "And is that worth anything?"
     "I like to think so.  And how do *I* know that you'd
live up to your end of the bargain once I delivered you to your 
destination?  Do I have *your* word?"
     Susan was struck silent.  Her word meant everything to
her.  If she gave it, she would be bound by it.  She didn't
notice the car pulling up to the curb.  The man looked at her,
waiting patiently.  She decided.
     "Yes.  You have my word."  She looked out the window to
the dark house.  "We're here?"
     "Yes."
     "Well, what is it you want?"  She had to know what she 
had let herself in for.
     "I haven't decided yet.  I came here to feed the cat."
He turned the engine off.  "I won't be back for several hours,
and there is no one else to look after her."
     "Oh."  Susan hadn't been expecting that.  "What's the
cat's name?"
     "Smoke."
     The son of a bitch.  It was him, had to be him.  The
dirty, cheating, son of a bitch!  What was he saying?
     "You can come in, use the bathroom, if you wish, or
you can wait out here.  I'll be about 10 minutes."
     "I'll come in."  She had to know for sure, and besides,
she wanted to change out of her wet pants.
     The number on the house was 1174.  Now she was positive.
So this was the louse that her best friend from college had 
married--and Elaine had seemed so happy, so sure that he was
Mr. Right.  When she first saw him, she hadn't been sure, for
he was now without the beard he had worn in the wedding 
pictures which Elaine had sent her.  The son of a bitch.
     Susan followed him in and removed her boots at the door.
He, his name was Lance, she recalled, pointed the way to the
bathroom.
     What *was* he doing, Lance wondered.  If he wasn't careful
he would be carried away--and then what?  Was the urge to
hurt back that great?
     "Meow."
     "Hi Smoke.  How's the cat?"  She rubbed against his leg,
purring to see him.
     "Meow."
     "Hungry, eh?  We'll find something."  He opened a can
of food for the long-haired black cat and ladled out her
dinner.  He pulled out a chair and sat back to watch her
eat.  Suddenly he became aware of his guest, behind him.
     "Nice looking cat," she commented.
     "We think so."
     "We?" she asked
     "My wife and I."  Somehow it didn't seem to matter that
this woman, who had offered him 'anything', was in their house
while Elaine was away.  It wasn't as if he was going to do
anything--he wasn't really going to take her up on her offer,
not in a sexual way, at any rate.
     "You're married?" she questioned.
     "Didn't this give it away?" he laughed, pointing at his
ring.  "Don't worry, she's out of town and our deal has nothing
to do with her."
     Bastard, she thought.  Oh, Elaine, what am I supposed to
do now?  What do I tell you?  
     Right now there was nothing to tell.  She wouldn't really 
have anything on him until she found out what her end of the 
deal would entail.  She could get out of the deal now, but 
then she would never know just how much of a bastard Lance 
was.  Yet if she allowed him to drive her, she would be honour 
bound to complete the deal.  What to do?  
     Susan became aware that Lance was looking at her, 
studying her.  Wrapped as she was in her slicker, he
wouldn't be able to get much more than a general idea
of what she looked like.  Her body was good, in general,
but her best feature was, by far, her eyes.  They sparkled
or smoldered or blazed, depending on her emotions, yet
whatever she was feeling, they drew attention to her.
They were like magnets, she had been told, drawing 
others in.  He seemed immune . . . for the moment.
     "Time to go," he said, no expression on his face as
he looked her up and down.  There was something strange
there.  It was as if she held him in some sort of 
disrespect, which amused him.  It wasn't he who had 
suggested the deal.  
     Yes, it amused him, yet also annoyed him to think
that she thought badly of him.  Who was she to judge, she
who had offered 'anything' to a complete stranger?  It 
took about two seconds for the annoyance to turn into
a low-grade anger.
     Again, a wild impulse rose, telling him to take her
up on her offer--fully; to teach her a lesson.  Again
he crushed the thought, recognizing that it was really
Elaine who was the object of his anger, and that this
stranger was not deserving of it.
     Still, she would remember this ride for a long time, 
he promised himself. 
     Susan was burning with a dozen jumbled emotions and
she barely noticed as Lance excused himself at the front
door to pick up something he had forgotten.  He was back
in a matter of seconds.

     They made a dash to the car and quickly got inside.  
The rain hadn't slackened at all during their stay in the 
house.  Before closing the door and moving off, Lance 
shrugged his way out of his raincoat and placed it and 
his hat on the rear seat.  It was a bit cool for that 
and Susan looked at him questioningly.  He ignored the look.
     Within minutes they were back on the road out of town,
Lance driving carefully as he mulled over his position.  
Did the hurt which he was feeling, due to Elaine not trusting
him with whatever was bothering her, justify striking back?
Would he use this opportunity regardless, to show her what 
it felt like? 
     She was certainly lovely, this woman who sat beside 
him.  He hadn't asked her name, probably wouldn't.  It was
as if by mutual agreement, once the deal had been made,
that neither of them asked any personal questions of the 
other.  Both seemed to want their strange relationship to
remain obscured by anonymity.  
     Lance had often had this very fantasy, and now the 
fantasy was reality--a woman had agreed to 'anything',
something even Elaine had never done.  Why would she do 
this?  Did it really mean that much to her to arrive at 
her destination dry and comfortable or was it that the 
'cost' meant nothing to her?  He was glad that he had 
slipped a couple of condoms into his pocket when he was 
back at the house--just in case.
     Susan sat quietly, caught up in her own thoughts.  
What did she think she was doing?  Unless she called this 
off, and quickly, she would end up having sex with the 
husband of one of her best friends.  Best friend?  Yes,
that was true, remained true, even if they hadn't 
seen each other for over a year.  What had Elaine done 
to deserve that?  Was it really so important to prove 
what a louse Lance was?  
     She gradually became aware that she was becoming 
uncomfortable.  The heater was on, and the car was now 
quite warm.  Dressed as she was, she would soon begin 
sweating.
     Susan undid her seatbelt, undid her rain jacket and 
began to struggle her way out of it--not the easiest thing 
to do in a seated position.  She put her left arm behind 
herself to grab her sleeve, arching her back as she did so 
to give herself room.
     She quickly became aware that Lance was very aware of 
her every move.  Her breasts were now straining forward, 
and she knew he was enjoying the view.  The bastard had set 
the heat so high on purpose, it came to her.  That was why 
he'd taken off his coat before they'd started.  He knew this 
would happen.
     Susan was about to complete the removal of her jacket
with all due haste, when something about the situation 
began to appeal to her more reckless side.  Instead, moving
slowly, she exaggerated each move, twisting her torso, 
presenting her breasts to their greatest advantage.  
     She heard him suck in his breath and smiled to herself.
Her movements were having their desired effect on him.  The
thrill of that caused her nipples to start to harden and to
scratch at the material of her shirt.  A shiver ran down her
back, causing her breasts to shake.  It came to her that
this wasn't exactly the best way to get out of the deal 
which she had made, but it didn't seem to matter.
     She sure knew how to put on a show, Lance thought to
himself.  That she was doing it for his benefit, he had no 
doubt at all.  The little vixen.  He allowed a slow smile
to cross his face and relaxed back into his seat.
     Traffic was light, for which he thanked the gods, and,
although the rain was still moderate to heavy, driving 
was no longer the strain which it had been.  He glanced at 
the speedometer and saw that he was going 10 km/h below the 
posted limit.
     That was a little slow and he knew he had subconsciously
slowed down to increase the length of time the trip would
take.
     "You like to show off."  It was a statement, not a
question, and it was delivered in a tone which suggested
mild amusement from a superior position.
     "That depends on who I'm with," she answered coyly,
bringing out a pink tongue to wet her upper lip.  Susan
resented the implication that she was a tease, coming as
it did from an unfaithful husband.  Someone should teach
the Bastard a lesson, she thought.  He was just a little
too controlled, and she resolved to break that control.
     
     Susan dumped her raincoat into the back of the car
and stretched luxuriantly.
     "Ah, it's a relief to get that off.  It gets kind
of hot, after a while."  She emphasized the word hot,
knowing that he would pick up on it.  She wondered if
she could get him hard and keep him that way for the
duration of the trip.  It must be uncomfortable, she
thought, to have an erection trapped in one's pants
for any length of time.
     Susan placed her hands behind her head and stretched
again, arching her back and thrusting her chest forward.  
She held that position for several seconds then relaxed with
a long drawn-out sigh.  
     "Ah.  That feels better.  I hate the feeling of being
confined--one of the reasons I never wear a bra--and that
raincoat is certainly confining."  Her words, along with her
actions, drew even more attention to her breasts, with those
hard nipples now pressing against the thin material of her
shirt.  She *was* a calculating little bitch, she thought to 
herself with a little grin.
     A picture of his passenger, more than just a little
confined, appeared in Lance's mind.  He shifted slightly in
his seat to ease his situation.
     "So, you're not really into bondage, is that it?" he
asked, holding back a smile.  "It'd be too bad if that's
what I had in mind, wouldn't it?"  That ought to wipe the
smirk from her face.
     An image came to her mind, of her, spread-eagled on
a bed, naked, unable to move, unable to prevent him from
taking her in whatever manner he wished.  To her own 
astonishment the image excited her and she unconsciously 
squeezed her thighs together.  A wicked thought occurred to 
her--two could play this game.
     "And would my hands be tied apart," she put her hands
up in the classic 'surrender' position, "or would they
be together above my head?"  She moved her hands up and
crossed her wrists, her breasts rising and pressing out as
she did so.  His head turned to look as she knew it would,
and his eyes flicked back and forth between her and the
road for the next couple of seconds before he returned his
gaze to the front.  In the light from the street-lamps, 
she noted that there was a bulge in his pants.  Victory!
     Damn the woman, Lance thought.  She was good, but 
he'd show her, do her one better.  He shifted slightly
once more and was chagrined by the knowing smile which
this elicited.
     "You mean you haven't considered the idea of one
wrist to each ankle?" he asked with exaggerated surprise.
It allows of so many more possibilities, don't you think?"
     Yes, it did, Susan was forced to admit.  She would
have comparative freedom of movement, be able to get into
several different positions.  She could be kneeling on the
edge of a bed, sitting on her heels, able to lean forward 
to take him in her mouth--would he want that?  How big 
was he anyway?  Her hands would be unable to aid her, it
would only be her mouth, moving up and down, taking him
deeper and deeper, to bring him off.
     Then all he would have to do would be to give her a
little push and she would be on her back, her knees drawn
up, legs and arms ready to give him a body hug as he 
lowered himself down on her, drove into her.  She could
see herself holding on for dear life as he plowed into
her, faster and harder, until he came with a roar and
collapsed on her, panting in her ear.  God, she was getting
wet just thinking about it.
     "Many possibilities," his murmured words cut through
to her consciousness and her eyes widened as another
possibility came to her.
     On her knees, ass in the air, breasts and head pressed
into the mattress, hands pulled back behind her as she waited
for him to approach her from behind.  Totally vulnerable, 
unable to see him, only able to feel as his smooth, warm,
cockhead came into contact, began to push its way into . . . .
     What if he wanted . . . no, he couldn't, wouldn't want 
that--would he?  No.  She wouldn't have anything to do with
anal sex.  She turned her head to see him watching her; he
must have seen her head move.
     "I . . ."
     "Agreed to anything," he interrupted and finished for her,
"I know, and you don't know how that pleases me."
     They both slipped into silence.
     Lance laughed to himself.  He had no proclivity towards
anal intercourse, but she didn't have to know that.  However,
the vision of her, ass in the air, trembling, waiting for his
approach, excited him further and he reached down with his
left hand to move his hardening cock into a less cramped
position.  He was glad that they had left the street-lamps 
behind and that the car was in darkness.  Likely she had not
seen. 
     Yes, he could see it now, a wonderful, beckoning ass,
high in the air, thighs trembling with anticipation as he
moved forward.  Would there be a sigh of relief as his cockhead
touched her labia, stroked her lips up and down?  He would 
let her believe that she was safe, then slowly allow it to
wander farther up until she knew differently, until she gasped
with the knowledge.  She could tease, he could tease.  Then
it would be back down and into a lovely wet vagina, her sob
of relief mixed with a cry of pleasure even as he took his 
pleasure from her.
     Susan was locked into the same scene, but she was 
wondering how it would feel to have her virgin ass taken.
Would he be gentle?  She'd heard it could be very painful
unless care was taken.  But how would it feel to have a cock
moving in and out of that forbidden place?  Could she do it?
She had no choice.  She had given her word and it was too
late, now, to back out.
     What *had* she done?  How in the name of all that is 
rational could she have let this situation develop?  Her head 
slumped fractionally.  How could she ever face Elaine again?  
There was no *real* excuse for what she had done and she knew it.
     She would have to break her word.  Yet how could she do
that?  Her word was sacred.  Once broken like this, it would
be so easy to break again and again.  This she knew.  Even if
she never broke it again, the stain of this lapse would be a
long time in fading.  It would put her back in a place which
she had worked long and hard to get out of.  
     No.  There was no choice.  She would have to go through
with it.  Susan gave an inner sigh of relief as that decision
was made, and it annoyed her to realize that part of that 
relief was based on the excitement she was feeling, on the 
fact that this game they were playing had caused her to 
lubricate.  Even the thought of anal sex was somehow exciting
her further.  It was a taboo which she would have no problem
breaking, for it wouldn't be her decision--it would be his.
     Susan realized that she had been tensing and relaxing her
thighs rhythmically and made a conscious effort to stop.
     They were approaching a curve and Lance shifted down to
take the corner.  Once out of the curve, his hand returned
to the shift, only to feel hers close over it, to rest lightly
on his as he made the shift back up.  He left his hand where
it was and she made no move to withdraw hers.  
     A slight shiver went through him.  She had escalated
once again.  Now they were touching.  He knew how quickly this
could lead to further touching and his breathing quickened.
He took a long slow breath to calm himself, then turned his
head to look at her.
     It was a mistake.  In the glow from the dash lights, all
he could make out was the shape of her head and her eyes, eyes
that seemed bigger for all that, eyes that threatened to draw
him in, to drown him in . . . .  Lance gave his head a quick 
shake and returned it to its forward position.  He realized that
he was not breathing and carefully inhaled.  A giggle from
beside him told him that this had not gone by unnoticed.
     "Poor boy."  She had leaned over and was whispering, her
breath warm against his neck.  His eyes half closed in the
sweet agony of it all.  "Don't worry, it's not too much longer,
only another hour and a half."  
     Could he hold out that long?  He hadn't intended to get
so wrapped up in this.  He had felt sorry for her, traveling
all that way in the rain; waiting, perhaps hours, for a ride;
getting soaked; being cold.  It had been that extra heavy
down-pour at the stop-light which had decided him.  He hadn't 
really wanted anything from her.
     But now?  The situation was becoming so erotic that he
didn't know how much longer he could control himself.  Already,
he wanted to stop the car, to move, with her, into the back
seat and to take her.  She was provoking him, he knew, and
although he ordinarily wouldn't have any trouble resisting
her, things weren't ordinary.
     Why hadn't Elaine called?  Why couldn't she explain why
she had to leave?  Why, why, why?  Was there another man?
He didn't think so--or did he?  He sighed.  All he knew
for sure was that he was vulnerable and that this vixen
beside him excited him in a way which Elaine had never done.
     'Anything'.  What an offer!  How could he turn it down?
'Anything', and that husky whisper driving him onwards, that
warm breath against his neck, so erotic.  His cock was hard
now, and straining to be free.  All he had to do was to
step onto the brake, stop the car and . . .
     Lance jumped as her hand touched him through his pants.
     "Oooh.  So hard," she breathed.  She was into it now,
enjoying her power.  She stroked up the length of him.  He
wouldn't be able to resist for long.
     "Ah!" Susan let out a gasp as his hand caught her wrist
in a grip of steel and moved her hand back to her side of the
car, pressed it down on her thigh, then let it go.
     "Not while I'm driving," Lance pushed the words out
through clenched teeth.  "It's too dangerous."
     Susan grimaced.  She had allowed herself to get carried
away.  That hadn't been the idea.  The idea was to make him
suffer, to get him hard and keep him that way for the entire
trip.  Instead she had come within a hairbreadth of pushing
him too far.  Why he hadn't simply stopped the car and 
commanded her to finish what she had started, she didn't know,
but was grateful for the reprieve.  She would have to watch
herself.
     She stared ahead to the road, watching the white dotted
centre line go past.  There was something unreal about the
whole thing, like they weren't even in the reality they knew.
Behind there was only black.  To the sides there was black.
Only ahead was there a small hole torn in the black, caused
by their headlights.  A small moving patch of light, and
them in the car, moving steadily on, yet moving nowhere,
caught in the vastness of the night.  No friendly lights
from buildings at the side of the road, for there were
no buildings along this stretch of the highway, and no
other vehicles had come into their sight for the last
twenty minutes or so.
     A small cocoon moving through the void, with only
the pair of them.  Were they the only ones in existence,
she wondered?  The unreality of the situation sent 
shivers up and down her spine.  Was that why it had
been so easy to allow herself to be carried away?  If it
was, then the danger was still present.
     It was Susan's turn to jump as Lance's hand settled
down on her shoulder, then inched forward until his wrist
was resting there and his hand and fingers drooped down.
     His forefinger sallied forth and touched at her
nipple, eliciting a small gasp.  He tweaked it back and forth,
delighting in its hardness, its resistance to his finger.
     His voice was low and husky, "And how well would you
be able to concentrate," she was having difficulty concentrating
already as little jolts ran up and down her body, radiating
from her nipple, "if I were doing something like this as
you attempted to drive?"
     His finger kept up its relentless flicking.
     "Sorry," she gasped out, "it won't happen again."  To
her mortification, she was breathing harshly, and her words
had come out in spurts.  Damn him!  She fought the desire,
the imperative to send her fingers flying down to the juncture
of her legs, to open the zipper in her jeans, to reach forth and
touch herself, find her clit even as he assaulted her nipple.
It wouldn't take her long to come, she knew, only a few moments
of stroking hard and fast and she would be off on her flight
through paradise.  
     Thank God!  He had stopped, removed his hand and returned
it to the steering wheel.  Damn!  He had stopped, removed his
hand and returned it to the steering wheel.  She was both 
relieved and frustrated.
     There.  He'd taught her a lesson.  But it had cost him
as well.  It had taken all of his will-power to remove his 
hand, to stop flicking at that lovely long, hard nipple.  Even 
now, he could still feel it, could imagine how it would feel 
scratching lightly against the bare skin of his chest or his 
back.
     The only reason he hadn't responded to her apology was
that he didn't want to give away the fact that his breathing
had been as laboured as hers.
     Two people in a car.  Two people in the night, each
wanting, each knowing that the next time there would be no
stopping it, each afraid to continue, afraid to stop.

     They crested the hill and the lights of the town came
into view.  Almost there.  The moment of decision was
rapidly approaching.
     They drove on in silence, each wondering, searching
the self.
     "Where are you going?"  Lance finally broke the silence.
Susan gave him directions and he nodded.  He knew the town
well.  "The Marble Motel is only a couple of blocks away,
if I'm not mistaken."
     Susan nodded.  So that was it.  In a way she was 
disappointed in Lance, for in spite of what had gone on
between them, there had seemed to be a decency in him.  On
the other hand, she was hotter than she'd been in a long
time and the thought of him between her legs was causing
those selfsame legs to tremble in anticipation.
     She would not, she affirmed, go back on her word.
She felt all squishy inside.
     Lance pulled up to the curb.  The Motel was across
the street.  He looked at it for a long time, then looked
directly at Susan, a wicked smile coming to his lips.
     "Ready?"
     "Ready," Susan confirmed, expecting the worst, hoping
for the best.
     "Good.  Now here's what I want . . ."  His eyes went down
to her breasts as they heaved and fell with her breath.  It
took an act of will to raise them back to her eyes.
     "Tell me," Susan demanded, "I can't take the suspense
anymore."
     "Good."  His eyes were laughing.  
     Susan braced herself.
     "I want you to pass the favour on--twice."
     "What?"  She didn't understand.
     "I did you a favour, bringing you here.  I'm asking you
to do two favours--things you normally wouldn't do, things
which will take you a little out of your way--for others.
You do that and I'll consider myself paid in full."
     "What kind of favours?"  Susan was completely off balance,
trying to fathom what he wanted of her.
     "That's entirely up to you."
     "And the motel?"  She gestured across the street.
     "Maybe another time."  Lance put the car back into gear
and they glided off towards her destination.
     "You had this in mind all the time," Susan accused him.
"You deliberately strung me along."
     "Yes," he admitted, "but I can't say I wasn't tempted.
Gods, was I tempted!"  She already knew that, so why not admit
it, let her know that he acknowledged her effect on him.
"However, whatever problems I have, I'm going to try to work 
them out.  As fun as it might have been, this isn't the way."
He pulled up in front of the address she had given him.
     "Good.  Actually I'm glad.  But do you know what I'm
going to do, first thing I get inside?"  She grinned at him.
     "I think I have a good idea," Lance laughed.
     "And poor you has to wait another three hours."  She smiled
as he nodded.  "Drive carefully--both hands on the wheel."  She
got out of the car and began crossing the street when she heard
his window opening behind her.
     "Oh, by the way . . ."  Susan turned back to face him.
"Thank-you."
     "For what?"
     "For making a fantasy into reality."
     Susan raised her eyebrows questioningly.
     "Nobody else has ever offered 'Anything' before.  It's 
something I'll treasure--always."
     Susan smiled.  "You're welcome.  Oh, and I'll see you again,
probably sooner than you expect."
     She left him wondering what that meant.

     The house was silent.  There was not even Smoke to greet
him as he came through the door.  She was, no doubt, sleeping
somewhere.  Lance hung up his coat and headed for the bedroom.
He was exhausted.  Even so, his mind would not allow sleep to
come.  
     Over and over again he replayed the events of the drive,
wondering how she had finished off what he had started.  In his
mind's eye he could see her and, tired though he was, he knew
he would have to finish off what she had started as well.
    
     He woke to the sound of the telephone ringing.