Far be it for me to ignore advice from something not quite as tall as my knee.  I can’t read omens, but there are definitely times where it makes sense to do that thing where you lose a yard or two just so you can punt the ball ahead.  Hey, I was a nerd – I don’t have to know football terms.  (Oh, I’ll watch the local team, but the last few years have been hard on the old enthusiasm glands.  If they are, indeed, glands.  I know I have a bejeebus reservoir for moments the bejeebus might be scared out of me, so why can’t I have enthusiasm glands? 

This may be why I failed anatomy.  I’m not that kind of doctor.)

So, before I fonged the ball into enemy territory, I did a little more picking up, stripped to my boxers, grabbed a couple of the graphic novels I had been accumulating, and headed to bed.  I thought about checking my e-mail and bank account and all that, but I knew if I started noodling on the computer I would stay up too late, and really, I wanted to earn my +2 hat of “Sleep before Midnight.” 

It made sense at the time, which showed you just how tired I was.  I did make a dent in my pile before I fell asleep on a glossy page.   I might not keep them in “collector’s condition,” but at least I don’t drool on them, right?

Somewhere in the night, I was moved gently off the book, and a blanket was moved over my shoulders.  I heard a couple of various audio “alarm on” references, and then something very sweet and warm snuggled up against me.  I had enough consciousness to think, “I hope it isn’t Peredur,” before sleep embraced me like it was a threesome.

I guess.  I just wanted to use the phrase while no one could hear me think it.

I woke up uncommonly late, with my bladder complaining bitterly.  Truly, I hate to think it’s that sullen on a regular basis.  I really had no choice but to mollify it, which indicates that I am willing to be taken hostage by my bodily functions.  I didn’t think it was a good precedent, but sometimes civilization has a point by not letting you pee on the bed.  Or onto the floor.

I didn’t want to move as Rohana had an arm slung across me, and I was afraid moving would disturb her.  Of course, apparently my waking had inspired similar things in her, so in lieu of breaking some kind of dating urine code I slid as smoothly as I could off the bed and dashed into the bathroom.  You know, when you’ve gotta go…

A few minutes later, able to concentrate on something else than irate body parts, I returned to find that Rohana had stolen the sheets and half the blanket and all of the pillows.  Her hair was splayed behind her, dark in the little bit of light that came from the blinds over the window.

I probably spent too long just looking at her.  She fit there, in the bed.  I realized that as soon as I thought that I was doomed.

“Are you just going to look,” she mumbled from under the pillows, “or are you coming back in?”

“You have all the sheets.”

“There’s a solution for that,” she said, rolling onto her back.

If some alien observer had come in and watched what we did as art, I imagined that they would notice all the interplay between light and darkness as indicated by the sheet.  We wrestled for it at first, a linen umbilical of sorts between us.  It went over her head, and then mine, twisted and then taut, wrinkled and then puffed up by air and wafting gently down to coat curves and straight lines both with painted shadows.  

I won’t say it did or did not get messy, but it did get thrown into the laundry hamper before Ro went off and took a shower.  I made breakfast for us, and we ate in-between giggles, occasional ribald gestures and companionable silence.

“I don’t want to leave, but I do need to get back home,” she sighed.

“When shall we two meet again?” I asked, with a grin.  I knew anything else I put forward would sound terribly whiny, and I didn’t want to pressure her.

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll be around,” she said, grinning right back.  “The only question is whether or not I’ll have to knock.  You know, you might be entertaining witches or something.”

I rolled my eyes.   “I am on the witch wagon.”

“Wagon?  I thought they used broomsticks.”

“Well, I thought ‘stake,’ but then thought it was terribly tasteless.”

“You should never have a tasteless steak,” she agreed. 

“Well, I agree that they should be rare,” I offered.

She snorted.  “I don’t think I needed a medium to predict that.  So, what about Dragons?  Sleeping with any that might get jealous?”

“Do I look like a princess?” I scoffed.

“No vampires, no things that go bump in the night, no elves, no aliens, no coeds?” she giggled.

“No wonder it’s dark,” I rolled my eyes.  “What, you think I’m some kind of monk?”

“You’d be helpful around the house that way.”

“You need a eunuch?” I asked, surprised.  “You don’t live in a harem, do you?”

“Nah, just a proactive housekeeper.  Monk he see…” she winked as she trailed off.

I let out a chortle.  “Monk, he do.  Yep.  Got me.”  I stood up and stretched for a moment, then offered her a hand up.  “No, although a little fellow told me that Sylvie may still be in the picture.”

Rohana looked at me for a moment and I couldn’t read her expression.  “E, I saw her.”

“I know.  And I know it sounds crazy.”

“It sounds like you were more involved than you’re letting me know,” she said.

“It’s not… no.”  I shook my head.  “It’s weird.  I’ll let it go.”

“It’s a clone thing, right?” she smiled.

“Uh.”  I shook my finger at her.  “I said I’d let it go.  No tricking me.”

She giggled and kissed me.  “I don’t believe you, but I’ll give it a chance,” she said. 

She gathered up her alarms and purse and left.  The apartment seemed a little empty without her, but I was still smiling from the kiss.  I liked her.

Oh dear.  I was definitely doomed.