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." No buts, little girl. You either love me enough to do this or you don't. Simple as that!"Trixie was trapped. She didn't realize it but Spiker had maneuvered her into a corner from which her only escape was to lose him (or so she thought). She abhorred the idea of going to bed with another man, especially one as crude as Bernie (She hadn't told Spiker but during the poker game, Bernie had cornered her in the kitchen when she was getting the guys some beer and started feeling her up). But in her naivety she didn't know Spiker was bluffing and she simply couldn't bear the thought of losing him."I ... all right, I'll do it!"Spiker was suddenly all smiles."Great, Baby. I'll call Bernie right now." Just this once?" she added."Sure, Baby, just this once," he agreed having no intention of honoring that agreement.The following afternoon Spiker vacated the apartment after giving Trixie some last minute advice."Now wear something sexy and wipe that frown off your face." I don't want to do. Taking her hands, he pulled her to her feet, an inquisitive look on her face. Leaning over, he reached his right arm under her hips, flipped her onto his shoulder, and as she gasped, started for her bedroom."Jeff, no. Jeff, I... Wait, Jeff..." her protests faded as Jeff continued down the hallway, then turned into her bedroom."Shall we go watch?" Laura said, grinning at Diana.Diana took a cigarette out, then tossed the pack to Laura. "No, let's wait a few minutes. She's probably too shy for that right now. We'll be able to hear when she's ready," Diana laughed.Laura pushed her shoes off, propped her feet on the coffee table, and picked up the remote. "Well, maybe we'll have time to catch the weather before Jeff has her naked and screaming. Then again, maybe it won't take that long," she mused, looking for a local channel.Jeff took his time; it was a good fifteen minutes before they heard the first tentative wails. Hitting the "Off" button on the remote, Laura looked at her.
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The last guy actually had a half-helmet that he laid on the casket. The funeral guy looked at Shania, who nodded, and the casket descended slowly into the hole. Shania stood up, took a handful of dirt and tossed it on the box. She turned quickly, grabbed my hand and pulled me away from the grave-site and back to the limo. The driver had to scurry to catch up. He closed the doors, slid behind the wheel and looked into the mirror. “Back to the funeral home?” he asked. “No,” Shania said firmly. “Take us home.” “Yes, ma’am,” the chauffer replied and motored smoothly out of the cemetery and onto the city streets. “You can breathe now,” I whispered to Shania. She looked at me, and, for the first time that day I saw tears well up in her eyes. I pulled her close to me and put her head on my shoulder. “It’s okay, baby. You’re allowed to cry.” Apparently not one to wallow in her own sorrows, Shania collected herself within about three minutes. She sat upright in the seat, pulled a compact out.

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