"Spencer?"
Silence.
"Spencer?" she asked, a little louder.
More silence.
"Spencer!"
"What?"
He asked this in a perplexed manner, wondering what he had done to warrant such harshness directed at him.
"Why didn't you answer me? You were wide awake, just staring off into space."
Spencer turned his head toward the girl. She had herself partially propped up on her right elbow, looking at him. In fact, come to think of it, she was always looking at him. It was just that every morning he saw himself in the mirror, and thought he was nothing special: extremely tall, thin, a bit pale, and long hair. But, when she looked at him, it was as if she were looking at a sunset, or maybe that painting she loved so much.
"Amanda,"
"What?" her face looked befuddled.
"Nothing," he grinned playfully, "I just like saying your name."
"I like saying your name better."
"I know."
"Ah! Cad."
Humorously, Amanda slapped his arm lightly. Slowly, she trailed her fingers up his forearm, to his neck, then to his chest. There was the look again. Spencer just could not see it – see what she saw that was so damn interesting about him.
"What?" he finally asked: he just had to know.
"You're beautiful you know." It was a statement, not a question.
"Don't make fun."
"I'm not."
"You're not?"
"Spencer . . . I would never."
Her hand crept lower and lower . . . until she was stroking him, slowly – tantalizingly. His breath caught in his throat, and he really could not believe her.
"Again?" asked Spencer, incredulously.
"If you're in the mood," Amanda cast her eyes downward, "and, it would seem you are."
Swiftly she climbed atop him, smiling that half smile of hers. Spencer really thought Amanda had a beautiful smile. In fact at the moment, from his position, he thought she had nice breasts as well . . . just the right proportion: a handful . . . two handfuls. Soon all that filled his ears was her lips crying out,
"Spencer, Spencer, Spencer!"