She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "It's cold in here," she said."I'm comfortable," he said, uncrossing his legs.She laughed. "Is that your ego in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?"The crotch of his shorts was, indeed, tented. He grinned broadly. "If you're going to put up a billboard," he said, "you have to expect somebody's going to pop up to look at it." What's that, your best line? I bet that pulled them in down at your corner meat market." I didn't need lines," he said. "Not when I have the old Jack-in-the-box here." You can jack Jack yourself, pal. You're not getting into this box." But she did keep looking.Not a single light was on inside the Tank, but it was lit softly by the glow from a hundred candles outside. The diehard fans who called themselves Ichthyologists had made a ritual of their all-night vigils.Refracted and reflected by a dozen planes, the candles twinkled like stars when seen from inside the house. A writer who spent a night inside once said. They both had had a hectic day. After unloading their luggage and food, they went out onto the porch only briefly before going to bed, where they snuggled and quickly fell asleep. The fresh mountain air was welcome.As they were getting dressed to go to breakfast, Steven surprised her by asking her to take the pill. She would have guessed that he would have waited until late afternoon or evening, but... Again, he chose her outfit for the day, which included a stretch mini, not as short as the other, coming to mid-thigh. Another vintage skirt pulled for the drawer. But, of course, she had kept them intentionally, as motivation to be able to wear them again post-Sam. And he gave her the same tank top. He had rounded it out with a g-string and a strapless bra. And her white sneakers. It was already autumn, and the temperatures in the mountains were probably 10 degrees cooler than at home. But, the forecast was for an unseasonably warm day, which was no help early as the morning chill.
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