And You Will Know Me Still

by theicemenace

What happened after the events of "Captain America: Winter Soldier"? Some chapters will be noted at the beginning, if they contain more mature themes, though not necessarily of an intimate nature.

15. Chapter 15

A/N: Spoiler alert for Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Avengers: Age of Ultron, and Captain America: Civil War.

As always, many thanks go out to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta and Winter-Soldier-88 for the brainstorming.

Note 1: I know it's been a while since this story was updated, but it couldn't be helped. Not only is my muse a fickle little scamp, my family has been experiencing a great deal of emotional turmoil that may not get better any time soon. Such is RL.

Note 2: This story is being revamped. Some scenes will be removed completely. Others will be changed to better conform to the MCU movies. Also, parts 2 and 3 will be eliminated and the chapters posted all under one title.

Namaste,

Sunny

"I will come back to you, I swear I will;
And you will know me still.
I shall be only a little taller
Than when I went."

― Edna St. Vincent Millay, The Harp-Weaver and Other Poems

Winter Soldier

And You Will Know Me Still

Chapter15

Ty opened the back of the SUV upon seeing that Steve and Maria were injured. He rummaged around for a while and came up with the first aid and suture kits. He opened the box, searching the contents until he found what he needed. "Over here, guys."

Reluctantly, and with much persuasion from Steve, Maria sat in the back of the SUV while Ty looked over her injuries. She hissed in pain when he removed the makeshift bandage and probed the area. "What's the prognosis, doc? Am I gonna live?"

Ty chuckled. "A long and fulfilling life, if I have anything to say about it." First, he put on latex gloves and cleansed the area with a disinfectant, causing more pain. Then he opened a tube of benzocaine. "This is a topical anesthetic. It'll numb the area while I stitch it up. You may want to have a doctor look at it in a day or so."

"Not my first rodeo, Sullivan."

Shaking his head, Ty carefully applied the benzocaine, and while it was anesthetizing the injury, he irrigated the wound to remove any foreign matter. One stubborn piece of rock required the use of tweezers to remove. It was in pretty deep and Maria winced as he probed the wound. She didn't cry out, though it had to hurt like hell.

Examining the cut, he was pleased to see that it was clean, no ragged edges. That would make this easier. He opened the sterile suture kit, and with quick and efficient movements, prepared the needle and suture thread. "Even with the anesthetic, this is going to hurt. Feel free to look away if needles bother you. And go ahead and scream if you want. No one will think less of you."

Using a mild glare to make a point, Maria stated, "Just do it. I'll handle the rest."

Steve stayed at her side, and Ty pretended not to notice when Maria gripped his hand and squeezed as soon as the needle pierced the skin. He knew she was tough. They all were, or they wouldn't have survived the alien invasion and the destruction of SHIELD. It was also good to see she was reaching out for comfort.

~~O~~

Ty knotted the last suture and clipped the thread. With the gentlest touch possible, he applied antibiotic cream and covered the area with a sterile dressing. He packed up the bloody gauze and bandages, placed everything into the plastic tray it had come in and closed the box to be disposed of elsewhere.

Steve helped Maria down with an arm around shoulders. While Ty had been busy, Natasha had cleaned Steve's wounds, leaving him free to comfort Maria. He watched them, thinking how right they looked together. Their personalities complimented each other. Steve, with his air of innocence and self-assurance and cynical Maria. She played it tough on the outside to protect the soft, gooey, vulnerable center. It was something she only let a select few see. And if he was reading the signals accurately, she would be showing that side to the super-soldier one day soon.

~~O~~

By taking Steve's hand while Ty stitched her up, Maria had let someone else be strong for her. It was a strange feeling having another take the burden.

He put her into the shotgun seat and went around to the driver's side. Her hand ached, but she didn't have anything she could take, here or at the brownstone. An ice pack would have to due until then.

To her left, Steve sat staring out the front window drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel in a random rhythm, and her mind returned to their conversation of before. Could someone like him really be untouched? Anecdotal and empirical evidence gave the theory that he'd at least kissed a woman credence. Though it had been his idea, she'd seen their kiss as a sort of experiment. A way to get inside his head, read his thoughts, and determine how he might react if she were to put forward the possibility of them having a physical relationship at some point in the near future.

The moment their lips touched, Maria had sensed a deep well of desire, a longing for more than just friendship. She didn't know if she was the right woman for a man like him, or that she was worthy of his affection, because Steve would never be with someone he didn't trust implicitly. Yet, if, somehow, he chose her, she would spend every day proving herself deserving of that trust.

Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly, almost jumping when Natasha stuck her head in the open window. "My partner and I are catching a ride with Sullivan and Hardison."

Steve turned a frown of warning on the spy. "Romanoff…"

As if he hadn't spoken, she kept going in that annoying, overly cheerful tone that told him she had more in mind than appeared on the surface. "Heard you like Chinese, Cap. We're headed to the Lucky Rickshaw on Staten Island. Boardwalk next to Ocean Breeze Park. See ya there."

With that parting shot, Natasha climbed in the back seat of the SUV and slammed the door. Kiba drove off, followed by Clint and Dooney in the sports car. Steve started the car, put it in gear and rolled down the side street to the stop sign. There was no traffic, probably due to the fact that the streets were blocked off while the factory fire was put out and the bodies taken away. It would likely be that way for a while considering that the property would need extensive decontamination.

Again, Steve drummed on the steering wheel. He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, ending on chuckle. "So much for flying under the radar." Turning slightly in his seat, he searched her face. "Am I really that easy to read?"

Pursing her lips to keep from grinning, Maria thought about taking his hand then though better of it when the stitches pulled. "Like a Dr. Seuss book, Rogers."

~~O~~

Though she tried to hide it, Steve still saw the glint of pain in Maria's eyes and in the way she hunched her shoulders. "If you'd rather go back to the brownstone, we can pick something up on the way."

She shook her head. "I'm fine."

Nodding, Steve continued on toward Staten Island. Just before the bridge, he pulled into the parking lot of a drug store, and got out before Maria could stop him. He was back in just a few minutes with a bottle of over the counter pain medicine and a bottle of water. He opened the pills and dumped two into her outstretched palm then opened the water. She swallowed the pills as he joined the traffic headed over the bridge. Once in Staten Island, Steve stopped at the light at Lily Pond Avenue and signaled for a left turn.

They arrived at the restaurant to find the parking lot half full. He parked near the SUV and the Corvette, turned off the engine and went around to the passenger side to open the door for Maria. She seldom allowed him to perform the small courtesies his mother had drummed into him as a boy. On the one side, he was getting used to the women in today's society doing for themselves. At the same time, he wanted the world to be the way it was when he went under the ice, but without war.

That thought reminded him of Peggy Carter. Her recent death had severed yet another link to the past, a thread woven through time that had connected them in unseen ways. Steve snapped back to reality when Maria nudged him with her elbow. "Thanks."

"What for?"

A slow smile curled the sides of her mouth. "Saving my life and the drugs." She held up her left hand, the bright white of the bandage contrasting with her naturally tanned skin. "Feels better already."

"You're welcome." He offered his arm, and she gripped it just above the elbow. "Hungry? Or would you like take a stroll on the boardwalk?"

"Eat first, walk later. We're under surveillance." Maria nodded in the direction of the restaurant and there, he saw six faces pressed against the glass watching them.

Turning Maria to face him, he tilted his head to the side. "People will stare. What say we make it worth their while?"

Steve put his hands on her waist, urging her close. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders as he leaned down to kiss her. And like the first time, the moment their lips touched, he felt a ripple of awareness that was so much more than just the thrill of just kissing a woman. Similar, yet pleasantly distinctive from the one kiss he'd shared with Peggy, much different than kissing Natasha, and way better than the blonde at the base after he'd rescued Bucky and the others.

They parted, and Steve saw a flickering in Maria's eyes, almost as if he'd done something to surprise her. She smiled and he did as well. Taking her hand, they headed for the building once more. The curtain had been dropped back into place, and Steve sent his friends a silent thanks for letting them have a moment of privacy.

He opened the door for Maria and brought up the rear. When they reached the table, he held her chair and dropped quickly into the one next to her. Almost immediately, the server was there with menus and glasses of water. Steve flashed the woman a grateful smile, picked up the glass and drained the contents. "More water, please. Lots of ice."

~~O~~

His stomach full of pancakes, sausage, bacon, eggs and coffee, Steve leaned back in his chair having lost the thread of the conversation. Instead of participating, he kept a close eye on Dooney. The man did his best to hide the fact that their aborted mission had taken a toll on him. Before their food arrived, he had a coughing fit. He went into the bathroom and came back a few minutes later looking more like himself.

Somehow, Dooney had convinced Kiba and Natasha to let him sit between them. He and Natasha had traded friendly barbs all through the meal, but most of his attention had been focused on the former Army EOD. It was only fair because Kiba had shown the same interest. It looked like they'd be seeing a lot more of Clint's friend going forward.

Steve looked up when Maria returned from the bathroom. She picked up her mug to finish off the coffee, wiped her mouth on the napkin and tossed it on her plate.

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if she wanted to take that walk now when his phone vibrated on the table. The caller ID said Unknown meaning it could be anyone still involved with the SHIELD rebuild or someone he didn't know. Only a few people had this particular number. "Excuse me."

Steve accepted the call with a non-committal, "Yeah?"

A male voice, young and confident, asked, "Is this James?"

"Sorry. You have the wrong number."

"Sorry to bother you." The boy sighed. "It's just that I've called all the numbers in Gramps's contact list looking for his friend James, and this was the last one."

The voice sounded familiar. "Are you a relative of Dum Dum Dugan's?"

Suspicious, he reluctantly admitted, "I'm Robbie. His great-grandson. You a friend of his?"

"Yes, I am. Steve Rogers. Something I can do for you, Robbie?"

Muffled footsteps told Steve Robbie was pacing. "My, uh, Gramps, well, he passed away the other day."

Gripping the phone tight, Steve pushed out the front door of the restaurant and crossed to his car. Leaning against the trunk, he gave himself a few moments to think before responding to the boy. "When's the funeral?"

"Yesterday. He didn't want a big deal made of his passing. We kept it quiet so the newshounds wouldn't bug us for a while. Can't keep it from the public for long though."

Resisting the urge to pace, at least for now, Steve breathed in and out a few times to calm his mind. "Understood. Please give my regards to your family."

"Thanks. I will."

Something the boy said at the beginning of the call whispered into Steve's ear. "Robbie? Who's James?"

The boy hesitated, unsure if he should say, then rushed ahead. "He's a friend of Gramps's. Stayed with us a couple of days. My friend Tracie even gave him a makeover." He snorted into the phone. "And man, did he need it. Long hair, thrift store clothes, hadn't shaved in a while. Tracie called it retro homeless. Whatever that means."

Steve's stomach did a flip. "His name was James? Did he give a last name?" Feeling the boy's hesitation again, he rushed to assure him. "This line is secure, if that's your concern."

"It's not that. It's just… Oh! I'm such an idiot!" Robbie made a sound of frustration and anger, with himself more than anything. "I promised Gramps I wouldn't… Just forget I said anything."

"I just need his last name. It's important or I wouldn't ask." Mentally crossing his fingers, Steve waited for Robbie to make the decision.

Steve heard the refrigerator open, close and the pop of a bottle top. "Barnes. He said his name was Barnes." A female voice intruded in the background, calling the boy's name. "Look, I gotta go. Thanks for being Gramps's friend, Mr. Rogers."

The phone beeped, ending the call. And somehow, Steve knew that Robbie wouldn't be calling again.

~~O~~

Through the window, Natasha, Clint and Maria watched Steve talking on the phone. When the call ended, he shoved the phone and both hands into his pockets and walked in the direction of the boardwalk with his head hanging down. Natasha let the curtain drop when moved out of sight.

Leaning back into her seat, Maria thought about the scene they'd just witnessed, and the only conclusion that fit the circumstances was that Steve had just been given bad news. Of the two most likely possibilities, she thought of Dugan. Who else could it be? The man was in his late nineties. Not in poor health, but at that age, living day to day became a crap shoot.

Steve was the kind of man who needed friends and family around him to share his joys and pain. But first, he needed to be alone. To give him the time, Maria did a little research. It didn't take long. Maria didn't use social media herself, but it was a useful tool. And the death of a Howling Commando was big news. The announcement was trending on all social media sites. Lots of sympathetic comments, "likes", "shares", and numerous anecdotes from people who had met one or more of Steve's hand-picked team over the years.

I'm not good at this. What do I say? "I'm sorry for your loss" is so trite, said by people who are uncomfortable in such emotionally charged situations. WWSD? What would Steve do? What does your gut tell you, Hill?

Steve was on the pier and her friends were here giving her two choices: the exit or stay put. The next move was obvious.

~~O~~

Steve jogged across Father Capodanno Boulevard to the Franklin D. Roosevelt Boardwalk, remembering Bucky and he watching from across the street as the original was built in 1935 and rushing home when his asthma kicked up because of the dust.

Eighty years later, it looked the same yet different, stretching off to the left and right. More traffic, more people, though not as many as there would be when it was full daylight.

The pier in the distance beckoned, and he walked toward it, boots thumping on the wood. A pair of old men with their lines cast into the water paid him no mind. Under the gazebo, he rested his arms on the railing watching the water undulate in the slight breeze, listening to it slap against the supports, the salty sea air stinging his nose. Taking the phone out, he cracked it open and took out the battery and sim card, tossing the pieces into the salt water one at a time.

The last time he'd come here had been with his mother to scatter his grandfather's ashes and say a prayer. It had been cold that day, everything dusted with snow, the waves crashing onto the shore so loud that conversation was next to impossible. But it helped Steve think, to let go of all the frustrations and physical disadvantages he'd dealt with all his life.

Then along came Dr. Erskine and his life had changed. His and Bucky's, though it was in no way Erskine's fault what had been done to his best friend.

The night he rescued Bucky and the others had been the moment he knew he wanted Dugan on his team. Now, Dugan's life was over, and he'd gone to his reward. Still, it had been a blow to hear the news. Even as an old man, he'd been full of life, what the French called joie de vivre, loved by his family, friends and the public, especially the kids.

Steve was about to head back when he heard familiar footsteps join him at the railing. Looking to the left, he saw Maria staring out over the water with a faraway look in her eyes. He touched her on the shoulder, nodding in the direction of the benches. They sat down, and as if it were something he had every right to do, he held her hand. She didn't say a word and didn't pull away. However, a few minutes later, she draped his arm around her shoulders though she didn't go as far as leaning against his side.

"Sorry to hear about Dugan. Anything I can do?"

He gave her a squeeze and smiled. "You're doing it."

"My plan was to cheer you up with an amusing anecdote from my childhood, but couldn't come up with one."

"Too many?"

Reluctantly, she shook her head. "Too few." Her gaze dropped to where her hand lay on her thigh.

Covering his free hand with hers, Maria lightly rubbed her nails over the back up to the wrist. Steve took the hint and wove their fingers together. He'd always thought it more intimate than simply holding hands, speaking of a bond closer than friendship. It was something Steve had been thinking about for a while now. The question in his mind wasn't if he wanted to make love with Maria, but when.

It just didn't seem right that he should be embarking on this new and extraordinary chapter in his life when Bucky was still out there doing God knows what. Yet, he couldn't seem to help himself. For more than two years, Steve and Maria had worked together, seldom socializing off duty. Not that he hadn't broached the subject a time or two. Since he'd rejoined the world, he'd only asked a few women on dates that had ended with a kiss that left him feeling cheated, like he'd wasted not only his time, but the woman's as well.

To be fair, he'd phrased the invitations to Maria in such a way as to appear romantically disinterested, just in case she didn't think of him that way and always with a group. She'd refused each time, except for one. Steve knew for a fact that it wasn't because she didn't want to join them. That night, she hadn't appeared uncomfortable at being only one of three women in a group of highly aggressive men. In fact, she'd challenged Rumlow to a drinking contest and had won. Steve got the feeling that she'd only come along to prove a point.

And talk about feeling cheated. Rumlow and his men had treated Steve like a friend. They'd even attended a few Yankees games together. Misery does love company, after all. But it had all been a sham, a fake, as spurious as their pretend loyalty to Fury, to SHIELD and to the United States government.

With Maria, he knew her allegiance was sincere, honest and unwavering. You never had to guess where you stood with her. She always said what was on her mind, tempered by diplomacy.

"You really never slept with a woman?"

Not today, apparently. The question as well as Maria's tone forced a laugh out of Steve. "Not in the biblical sense, no."

"What about a little second base action?" His blank look called for a small demonstration.

He grinned at her giving his left pec a squeeze to indicate a man fondling a woman's breasts, and shook his head. "Not that I didn't get the chance. Just seemed disrespectful to the woman to do it without an invitation. I try not to think about it."

"How's that working out for you?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, Steve sighed. "Not as well as I hoped."

~~O~~

Without meaning to, Maria cuddled closer to Steve's physical warmth in the morning chill. Then she separated their hands to grip his wrist, using it to guide his hand up under the bottom edge of her tank top. When she let go, he continued the journey on his own, stopping when he touched the skin of her stomach.

Tilting her head back, she waited for him to look at her and smiled gently, just a slight upturn of her lips. He took the hint and kissed her. This time, she brushed the tip of her tongue over the crease of his lips. The touch startled him into opening his mouth and she took advantage by sliding her tongue against his and he did the same.

Soon, Maria no longer had to give Steve encouragement. His hand on her stomach, warm and slightly rough, skimmed over her ribs, stopping just at the edge of her bra without going any further. She held in a gasp when he moved around to her side, down to her waist and back to her navel. He made two more of those heat inducing circles, then, on the third lap, his thumb deliberately grazed the underside of her breast. The urge to beg him to continue was doused with cold water when they heard a familiar voice behind them.

They pulled apart and Maria chanced a quick glance at Steve's face, gauging his mood. Embarrassment tinged his cheeks a light pink, or it could've been the wind. And that wasn't the only perceptible physical reaction. Pretending not to notice, Maria surreptitiously tugged her shirt down over the sliver of midriff exposed by Steve's gentle ventures.

"So this is where you got to," Clint stated in his husky morning grumble, seeming not to have noticed what was going on. "We're heading back. We took a vote. The last team back to the nest takes the next shift."

Maria and Steve came around the bench in opposite directions to join Clint. The archer's expression was bland and just a little scary, what Natasha called his resting bitch face, making it difficult to get a read on him. Together, the trio walked back toward the boardwalk. The sun had begun to peek over the horizon giving everything a red-orange-pink glow.

As they walked the pier, Clint pushed in between them and cast a glance at her, adding a wink, telling Maria he'd seen more than she thought.

"Sorry to hear about Dugan, Steve. If you'd like to go pay your respects to the family, we can handle things here for a few days."

Head down and hands in his pockets, Steve slanted a glance at Clint. "Just might do that. Thanks."

As they reached the road, Dooney hurtled toward them behind the wheel of the Corvette, made a tire screeching U-turn and came to stop at the curb. Clint jogged over while Dooney switched to the passenger seat. Maria expected Clint to jump behind the wheel without opening the door and that's just what he did. Both buckled up, Clint shifted into gear and they were off. A honk drew their attention to the SUV pulling into traffic behind them.

Maria and Steve huffed and fell into step together, sharing a sardonic glance. Back at the restaurant, Steve held the door for her then got behind the wheel. "Guess we're on watch. Street patrol or internal security?"

"Both. Leave for D.C. this morning." He pulled to a stop at the last light before the bridge back to Brooklyn, signaling a right turn. "Steve, about before…"

"You want to take it slow. Understood." She nodded, and with the aviator glasses on, she couldn't see his eyes. Maybe just this once it was a good thing. "I'll leave the car and take the train." One finger came up. "No one but you drives her. Especially not Barton."

Steve's tone made her laugh. "Easier said than done. He's one of our best agents for a reason."

The light changed and he made the turn onto the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, effortlessly merging into morning traffic. "He drives like a maniac. He learn that in the circus?"

Rolling her eyes, Maria looked out the window at boats cutting paths from the Hudson River to Gravesend Bay. "Self-taught. There's a lot you don't know about Barton, that even I don't know. He's good at keeping secrets. Doubt we'll ever get the full story."

"So he won't say anything about… anything?"

Looking over at Steve, she was tempted to lie, but that would do them both a disservice. "To you and me, maybe Romanoff, but not to anyone else. You're not embarrassed by what happened, are you?"

His eyes met hers-at least she assumed they did-then went back to the road. He honked when someone cut in front of them. "The conversation? Yes. The act? Never."

They rode in silence until they reached Brooklyn and left the interstate. "Just out of curiosity…"

"Why have I never made love to a woman?" Once again, he turned a sheepish grin on her. "It never seemed right, though it wasn't for lack of trying on Bucky's part. After he enlisted in the Army, he felt it was his duty as my best friend to help me lose my virginity.

"One day, a few months after my mother passed away, he came to the apartment. Told me to get dressed because we were going out. I'd just gotten off work. All I wanted to do was eat dinner, listen to Ellery Queen, and go to bed. But he insisted, and he's difficult to say no to.

"We get to a jazz joint and two women are waiting…"

1943, Brooklyn

Ace of Spades Jazz Club

Covering a yawn, Steve dragged his feet as his best friend urged him toward the front door of the hopping night club. "Buck, tell me this isn't another one of your double date set ups."

Grinning, Bucky let go and looked him over. "This one's different, Steve. Promise. You don't have to dance or anything. Just make a little small talk, drink some beer and let nature take its course. Fix that."

The smug look on his friend's face set all kinds of alarms off as Steve pushed a lock of hair off his forehead. "Remember what happened last time? She took one look at me and was out the door so fast you didn't even finish the introductions."

Bucky, almost six feet tall, dressed in navy blue slacks, white shirt and grey and blue sport coat, presented a strong contrast to his friend. Standing just five-four and feeling more than a little self-conscious next to his taller and better looking friend, Steve wore a white shirt, tan sport jacket, matching slacks and a dull colored tie, his work "uniform".

"Just be yourself. You'll do fine."

One corner of Steve's mouth turned upward in a half smile. "Who else would I be? You?"

Bucky grinned and shook his head. "Punk."

"Jerk."

Steve opened the door, letting the music feel that it was escaping. It swirled around, making his head pulse in time to the beat. Another headache. Pressing a hand to his pocket, he checked for his medication, comforted by the small bottle of pills.

As they approached the table, the women stood up, and it was just as he feared. Both had at least a couple of inches on him. He smiled through the dread.

"Ladies. I'd like you to meet my friend, Steve. Steve this vision of loveliness is Lorraine," Bucky indicated the one on the right. Lorraine had blonde hair that he could tell had been recently bleached and wore a tight fitting green dress a size too small for her curvy figure, shoes to match and red lipstick that was a little too garish to be fashionable.

"She's your date for the night." Going to the second woman, Bucky slipped his arm around her waist. "And beautiful Sarah is with me. Ladies."

Steve held Lorraine's chair while Bucky did the same for Sarah. They'd only been seated a moment when the waitress came to take their orders. As always, Bucky took charge. "Beers all around and some of those pretzels, doll."

The young woman popped her gum while writing on her pad and left again without saying a word.

Just as Bucky had said, they drank beer and talked mostly about America's chances of entering the war. Both women were of the opinion that the fighting wasn't nearly as bad as the newspapers and radio reports made it out to be. Naturally, Steve didn't agree and said so. Before an argument could gain steam, Bucky caught Lorraine's eye and tapped his watch. More alarms went off, but before Steve could take his friend aside, Lorraine gave him a bright smile.

"Walk me home, Stu? It's not far." Her accent was closer to Jersey than Brooklyn.

"It's Steve, and I'd be happy to." He helped her on with her jacket and followed her out the front door. "Which way?"

They started walking, Steve with his hands shoved in his pockets, neither of them speaking until she came to a stop in front of an apartment building that had seen better days, none of them recently. Their constant companion, awkward silence, hung around while Steve searched for some way to end the evening without offending her. Might as well go with something vague. "Thank you for an interesting evening, Lorraine."

Then she smiled, and to Steve, who had little experience with women, it looked like a come-on. She took hold of his hand. "Night's not over yet, sugar."

"Excuse me?" Lorraine pulled him up the steps and into the building's drab lobby, the threadbare carpeting muffling their footsteps.

"My place is just down the hall. I like being on the first floor. You know, in case of fire or something." She fished her key out of the small clutch she carried tucked under her left arm. They stopped in front of a door that looked like all the others except for the apartment number, 1G. She unlocked the door and flicked on the light, standing just inside and giving him a puzzled stare when he didn't follow. "What's a matter, honey?"

"Nothing. It's just…"

Her fists jammed into her hips and the smile she'd worn all night turned into a frown of annoyance. "Look, I know this is your first time and all so I'll be real gentle. Just let me do all the work until you get a feel for it, so to speak. After that, we can do whatever you want. But I warn you, I'm not into all that creepy, weird stuff you hear about on the radio. It'll just be straight up."

Steve had a suspicion from the moment Lorraine asked him to walk her home that there was more to this date than just beer and talk with a couple of dames. Now he knew. His best friend had convinced Lorraine to sleep with him.

TBC