Saturday October 31, 1992
The day of Halloween was clear and bright, the famed California weather coming through with a temperate, dry day. Jennifer was up and out early, a long to-do list in her purse, a vague feeling of frustration following her into the busy day.
Jonathan had arrived late the night before after a 7 day business trip. Her own hectic schedule meant she couldn't accompany him, and the separation had felt unreasonably long. Of course they talked every day, often multiple times a day. Their friends ribbed them good-naturedly about their close marriage, and in the popularity boom of therapy-speak in the 80's had jokingly declared them co-dependent. Jennifer didn't care - she adored her husband and enjoyed spending time with him. She felt sorry for the couples who weren't blessed with such a solid union.
And of course, she'd missed him beside her in their large California King bed. Freeway Junior was wonderful at taking up space for such a small dog, but still the sheets were cold beside her when she slept and woke, and that was the worst of all. Craving Jonathan's nearness, she had tried to stay awake for him, but she could only stir blearily when he climbed into bed beside her and kissed her lips, his wide palms cupping her middle gently and pulling her into his arms. It was a testament to his exhaustion that he stayed firmly asleep when she got up that morning, wide-eyed and frisky, her hopes for a welcome home morning romp dashed by his light snore.
A little sullenly she showered and dressed, checking on her husband every few minutes to see if he was stirring, but he was dead to the world. Her heart clenched, watching him sleeping there, rumpled and warm. His head was turned to snuffle in the place she had abandoned, leaving his throat exposed. She could nibble right there, knowing exactly the sound he'd make as her teeth sunk into his skin…
Jennifer contented herself with a kiss to his ear, his little sigh causing other parts of her to clench. She didn't look back as she grabbed her purse and headed downstairs. If she did, she'd never leave.
The wind was light, so Jennifer opted to drive with the top down through Bel Air while she ran her errands. The warm breeze lifted her hair and blew away the cobwebs and she found herself humming as she turned towards Hollywood and the seamstress that she'd commissioned for their costumes.
She thought she might have preferred a quiet, active evening at home but she found she was looking forward to the costume gala they were to attend that night. She'd spent weeks trying to decide on the proper costumes, choosing and discarding ideas until she'd caught an older movie on cable late one night.
Glancing at the dash clock, she was pleased to find it was only crossing over to noon. They had to be dressed and ready to leave by 6pm, leaving her plenty of time to get back to the house and get ready.
The morning sunlight was bright filtering in through the bedroom as Jonathan rose towards consciousness, automatically reaching for Jennifer. What he encountered instead was the sleepy, sprawled form of Junior who gave him an irritated harumph as he jumped to the floor.
"Darling?" He asked into the room, his lips slipping down into a frown when she didn't answer. Finally summoning the courage to open his eyes, the red numbers of his bedside clock told him it was already well past noon.
Jennifer was certainly up and out, no doubt running errands before they had to get ready for the party that evening. She hadn't told him what his costume was to be, and years of experience told him he should be, at least, cautious of her choice. He'd never forget that bunny suit or the brilliance of her smile as Scarlett O'Hara. His wife and her wicked sense of humor…the odds of him ending up as the back end of a horse were about even..
Jonathan stretched and rolled into her side of the bed, gathering her pillow to his face and breathing deeply. Seven days was far too long to be apart and he silently promised both of them that he would move heaven and earth to make sure it didn't happen again. They were getting older and he'd thought that meant they'd slow down. But technology was moving forward in leaps and bounds, meaning he had to move quickly to keep Hart Industries on the cutting edge. And as the internet became more and more accessible, it set Jennifer's own career at a break-neck speed. They'd always prioritized one another and still made that time, but when the universe conspired to keep them apart like this, it was time for him to conspire otherwise.
He rose and made his way to the bathroom, dressing for his run in deep contemplation and planning. He knew just what he was going to do to ensure some togetherness…and soon.
Jennifer was already seated at her dressing table fussing with her makeup when Jonathan stepped out of the shower. His towel was slung low around his hips, his head swathed in terry cloth as he dried at it haphazardly. She took the opportunity to watch him, his muscles shifting under sun-golden skin. He stayed active and she appreciated the effort, following the trail of hair that disappeared beneath the towel. She resisted glancing at her watch, knowing they did not have the time. Still… seven days.
"Darling…" He said, drawing out the word with sticky, filthy meaning. She met his blue eyes in the mirror. The pearls of her teeth pressed tight into her lip, and her pupils were so wide her eyes were black. She didn't bother to hide her desire from him, choosing instead to chuckle at their parallel thoughts.
"We could be late…" Jonathan waggled his eyebrows and tugged at the towel around his waist, allowing it to fall to his feet. In spite of the rush of heat that raced over her skin, Jennifer merely raised her own eyebrow before leaning in to dab daintily at her lips. With a shrug of seeming inconsequence, Jonathan went to the bedroom to get dressed.
Jonathan couldn't help the low whistle as Jennifer emerged from the dressing room, finally fully dressed for their evening. He'd been a bit confused by his own costume - black on black, a turtleneck and jeans. The only hint that it was indeed a costume was the shoulder holster and the all-too-real looking costume gun. But when Jennifer appeared, their look clicked into place. The dress was like a flame, oranges and silks swirling together and edged in gold. It hugged her tightly then flared at the bottom. The neckline was low, revealing the gentle valley to which Jonathan was a frequent visitor. A thick necklace, also gold, encased her neck and her hair - her glorious curls the color of sunset - was twisted up off her neck making her appear even taller and more elegant. Jonathan's fingers itched to snatch the pins and watch the careful style tumble and tousle around her face. He was pretty sure he could work around everything else.
"Don't even think about it." She wagged a finger in his direction and took a step back, but her gaze was equally hungry. They were, she knew, playing a dangerous game. She thought longingly of his nude form in the mirror, and mused it would have been worth it to be a few minutes…an hour, tops…late.
He gave her another careless shrug - he was being far too compliant for her comfort - and instead spun in place. "Do I pass muster?"
"Yes, Mr Bond." She laughed, the velvet of her words catching his skin pleasantly, silky and warm, and full of promise. It had been a gamble to choose this particular James Bond. But she'd seen Jonathan in every iteration of a tuxedo over the years. The casually dangerous turtleneck and holster was a pleasant departure. Her handsome and sexy husband was going to be quite popular, if her own response was anything to judge by.
Jonathan allowed her to precede him through the door with a gentlemanly bow, no doubt checking out the backside of her outfit on the way. "Your chariot awaits, Solitaire."
For all the wealth of the Hollywood glitterati, even the most dignified party could descend into bacchanalia once the alcohol flowed and the lights were turned down. Senators, celebrities and models, journalists, industrialists, and socialites were decked out in some of the most outrageous costumes found outside of West Hollywood for the night. Jennifer had counted at least four different iterations of Whitney Huston's Queen of the Night and more than a handful of balding white men shrouded in chains of gold and sunglasses, ridiculously tasteless "rappers" that showed a distinct lack of creativity in her mind.
She stayed close to Jonathan as much as possible, never truly comfortable in these wilder, less structured parties. At some point in the last decade business dinners and formal balls had become something new and different, and just a little intimidating. Even Jennifer had to admit, though, that it was a refreshing break from the endless hours of small talk. After all they were both highly sought out dance partners. Although, much to the consternation of their partners, they always gravitated back to one another..
When the DJ announced a slower song coming up, Jennifer melted into her husband's embrace gratefully. The bouncing, bopping beats had worn her out and she was glad to be back in familiar territory.
"Having a nice time?" He asked, a powerful ballad blasting all around them. She nodded against her shoulder and then looked up at him. Her eyes were luminous, dreamy, and she pressed her lips to his jaw to ask "Are you having a good time?"
"Hmmhmm," He murmured against her temple, his fingers slid over the satin covering her back, slipping tantalizingly lower. She sighed, her breath puffing over his ear. Slipping her hand from his she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer until they were barely swaying amidst the throng of people. He slipped his thigh between her legs briefly, a subtle touch that had her knees wobbling. He thought there had to be an unoccupied closet somewhere in the damn building… but then the DJ shook it up again, and bass pumped into the room. Jennifer backed away, flushed and breathing heavily, and excused herself to the ladies room.
Nearing eleven, Jonathan watched as his wife moved through the crowds, enchanting everyone as she went. Neither of them were as young as they used to be, but it seemed she became even more beguiling each year. She was beloved for her genuine kindness and sought after for her skill and intelligence as a reporter. Jonathan felt a frisson of anticipation when her smokey amber eyes caught his, and he realized her giddy champagne drunk had toppled over into something far more dangerous.
She eyed him like prey, her fingers brushing over the gold at her throat and down into the deep cut of her dress, her expression both challenging and carelessly erotic. If he didn't get her out of the party soon, they were going to make headlines for all the wrong reasons.
"I would like to go home now." She rumbled when she stepped into him, tripping a bit to brush her breasts against his chest. When she gazed up through sooty lashes, she was biting her lower lip and toying with the buckle of his belt. A single, perfectly manicured finger slipped into his waistband and Jonathan took that as his cue. Twining their fingers together, he ushered her out of the grand ballroom and didn't stop until they hit the valet stand.
Los Angeles spread below them, a brilliant constellation of always-moving lights. They wound their way along Mulholland, the galaxy of city peaking between trees before bursting into full view as they rounded the curves. The road turned again, putting the city at their backs, and the only illumination was the headlights. The moon, a sliver of white in a crystal sky, offered little help. Jennifer was restless in the passenger seat, alternating between skipping stations on the radio and reaching across to toy with whatever bits of her husband she could reach.
She was so caught up with tracing the tendons of the hand curled around the steering wheel, she didn't notice that they were slowing until Jonathan uttered an irritated "Damn!" as he pulled the car onto a conveniently wide shoulder beneath a dense copse of trees.
"What? What damn?" Jennifer asked, sitting up and craning her neck to see…something. But Jonathan flicked the key, entreating the beloved Rolls' engine to turn over.
"Oooh." Jennifer nodded sagely. "That damn."
"I think…we ran out of gas." Jonathan pressed his fingers hard into his eyes, rubbing fiercely. "I'm sorry darling."
She was just drunk enough to be several seconds behind, so it took and extra beat before she too released an anguished "No."
They sat in the silent darkness, Jonathan still fiddling with the key, when Jennifer finally said "Max!"
"Won't be home from his game for another hour, at least."
"Oh, that's right. Poker." Her face shifted from gloomy to a bright smile, a giggle escaping as she said it again. "Poker."
"Poker?" Jonathan's eyebrows winged up.
"POKER." Jennifer dissolved into laughter again. She was so adorable when she was drunk.
"Poker. Poker?"
This time, she corralled her giggles for long enough to reach across and lay her hand on his thigh. "Poke." She spoke slowly before pointing her other hand towards herself. "Her."
Adorable and, bless her, terribly horny.
Before he had fully absorbed her words, Jennifer was scooting across the bench seat, her feral expression tantalizing as she stalked closer.
"Oooh," Jonathan breathed, his own face splitting into that panty-dropping smile she loved so much. "Poker."
Every so often headlights would cut through the inky darkness of the car's interior, but neither Hart noticed. Jennifer had clambered into her husband's lap somewhere in the middle of the wide bench front seat. Her elegant dress was disheveled and creased, rucked up as it was to allow Jonathan access to her thighs. Her own hands were pressed between their bodies attempting to maneuver the button and fly of his jeans with very little success. Jonathan, however, had busied his lips with the smooth valley exposed between her breasts while unpinning her elegant updo one bit at a time.
They didn't speak, their usual sexy banter abandoned as their lips pecked and pulled at each other, their tongues too busy, their brains overloading on tactile sensation. Giving up on the uncooperative zipper, Jennifer instead bunched the black material of Jonathan's turtle neck and snatched it up and over his head. She didn't bother to remove it all the way, simply abandoning her husband in a material prison as she leaned forward to lap at his throat. It might have been the desperation of the separation, or the devilry of the halloween night. But Jennifer could not help herself and bit lightly at the straining tendon (she had been fixated on it since leaving him that morning) beneath her lips and was rewarded with a guttural growl from Jonathan. He fought to free his head and arms from the shirt before hurling it into the backseat. Jennifer's eyes sparkled in the darkness, lit from within by her pleasure and happiness. And alcohol. She reached low again, gripping his hardness through his jeans. Definitely lots of alcohol.
"Trick or treat?" She probably meant to whisper, but her husky voice was loud in the confines of the car, the air rippling with her laughter at her own joke.
"You're definitely a treat," Jonathan answered, more seriously than he intended, his palms framing her face. Another set of headlights cut the darkness, the beams reflecting to illuminate her beatifically and his heart clenched at the sight of her. She was tousled and aroused, grinning at him in a way that made him a little lightheaded. She'd always loved him passionately, thoroughly and with abandon. But sometimes she was so adventurous it took his breath away and made him wonder exactly how he'd been so lucky to find her.
"I've missed you so much, you know that?" She asked, sobering just slightly and leaning forward to peck a chaste kiss on his lips…and then a second one. A habit from early in their marriage. Just one kiss was never enough.
"I don't have to ask if you know how much I've missed you." He glanced down between them where she still idly stroked him through his pants.
"Jonathan!" Her lovely, scandalized squeal filled the car as if she wasn't working him into a frenzy right there on Mulholland Drive.
More headlights, but this time they did not swing away around the curve but pulled up close behind them. Jonathan prayed to all that was holy that it wasn't the police. He had a pretty good rapport with the local police, but it had its limits.
"Damn," Jennifer yelped, pulling her hand away and attempting to make herself more decent. Jonathan had not yet freed her breasts from her dress (more's the pity) but still, she looked very much like they'd been doing what they'd been doing.
Not that he was any better. Shirtless, with the perfect imprint of her teeth along his carotid artery. He was thankful that the night was so very dark - the shadows and dark pants would hide the pressing erection. He hoped the cop didn't have his flashlight handy.
A figure approached the driver's side door and reluctantly Jonathan cranked down the window.
"Hey, Mr H. Need a ride?" Good old Max. Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief.
"We ran out of gas." Jonathan explained while Jennifer leaned across to the open window.
"Can you come back in maybe thirty minutes, Max?"
"Darling!" Jonathan gently pushed her away from the window.
"I'm just asking." She gave him her best beguiling smile.
"Excuse us for a second, Max." Jonathan rolled the window partly up before returning to his wife.
"We could probably finish in twenty, if that's better." Jennifer was reaching back fruitlessly for the zipper on her dress.
"Baby," Jonathan stilled her with his hand, his fingers curling through her hair at the nape. "What I plan to do to you tonight will take considerably longer than thirty minutes and will require significantly more space than this car provides."
"Mmmmm," Jennifer leaned forward, eyes falling closed, lips open for a kiss. "Promise?"
"Cross my heart," and he drew the back of his finger over her heart. She shivered delightfully. And then she was backing away from him, grabbing at the door handle and stumbling out of the car onto the shoulder. He watched her wobbling towards the headlights, laughing when she tripped. Max, beloved and reliable Max, was a steadying hand leading her to the backseat of the station wagon.
Taking a few extra seconds to calm himself, Jonathan rolled up the windows and locked the car. Joining his wife in the backseat of Max's car, Jonathan found his arms completely full of her fragrant warmth even before Max could start the engine.
He wondered if Jennifer would ever question how Max knew exactly where to rescue them that night, or the wonderful serendipity of an empty tank of gas on this particularly shadowed stretch of road.
He hoped not.
The ride home passed quickly. They hadn't been more than a handful of miles from the house, but still they took that time to neck like teenagers, whispering salacious suggestions against the skin of the other. Max, used to them after 16 years, kept the radio on and his eyes straight ahead. Still, the odd moan and whimper made it to the front seat, but the sound only made him grin.
He'd hoped nothing but love for the scruffy, recalcitrant boy he'd helped to raise and in Jennifer, Jonathan had found exactly that. He did not begrudge them one single smooch, and he hoped they were as in love in another 16 years, long after he'd be forced to leave them behind.
He dropped his charges at the front door of the house, then drove around to the carport. He'd take his time getting back in. Then he'd take Junior out for a long walk. With luck, they'd be safely behind the heavy oak double doors of their bedroom by the time they came back in. He could retire to the other end of the house, where he and Freeway would share some popcorn and a late show. Leave the lovebirds to their…do.
Jonathan hustled Jennifer up the stairs towards their bedroom, but she was loose and limber and reaching for parts that had him batting away her hands. He knew Max would make himself scarce for a while to give them time to get settled, but Jennifer seemed intent to undress him on the stairs. It wouldn't be the first time. Or the last, come to it, but he'd been serious about the time and space he needed to sate himself on her.
Finally tired of fending off her advances (he'd never had that thought about his wife, not ever) he'd simply scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder. She laughed merrily and swatted his bottom and given herself over to enjoying the ride.
He didn't bother with the lights in their room, the ambient glow from the dressing room illumination enough, and pushed her back to lay across their bed.
"Darling…" She tried to reach for him as he backed away, dropping to his knees before her. She crooned her pleasure, head lolling on her shoulders. "Ooooh."
"Now lie back." He pushed up her dress, his hands proceeding him to her hips where he snatched none-too-gently at the pantyhose and panties that were his final barrier. He drew them off and away, tossing them haphazardly behind him before leaning in and burning a path up her thigh with his tongue.
"And think of Engl–" The joke dissolved into a moan of pleasure, a lovely flush rising from her toes to her scalp, electricity tingling across her skin. Her chest burned until she remembered to breathe, gasping wildly as Jonathan knelt before her, worshiping her with his tongue. It was always like this, the wild energy passing between them. It was the secret to their union; his pleasure was hers and vice versa. He knew exactly where to touch, to kiss, to nip, and to suck to draw her into a swirl of sensation. His hands, his large hands, held her with a tender firmness that made her feel cherished and protected all at once. He anchored her to the present, to the earth, even as he drove her towards the stars.
She wanted…she wanted…grasping at the comforter, her body undulating in time with his movements, chasing wildly after the coiling, snapping pleasure. White noise roared in her ears and she felt the rumble of nonsense words Jonathan spoke against her. His tongue was relentless, his fingers drawing gently over the skin of her calves, a calming gesture that did nothing of the kind. She gripped her feet around his back, toes curling as she keened through her first orgasm, biting down on her lip to keep from an outright scream.
Jonathan rested his head on her thigh and stroked her, allowing her time to recover. Once Jennifer had returned to consciousness, she pulled herself up onto her elbows, unsure her neck would be able to hold her head steady. Jonathan's self-satisfied smirk and dancing blue eyes chasing a chuckle from her. She held out a hand to him, which he took before he rolled onto the balls of his feet and then stalked over her, the mattress dipping as he climbed up to her face, nuzzling into her neck briefly before dropping kisses across her nose and lips. Her heart was still slightly out of rhythm and she knew she wore a besotted expression. Pushing him away a bit, she rolled onto her stomach before pointing back at the zipper at the nape of her neck.
With infinite, gentle care, Jonathan undid the zipper, leaning back to allow her to shimmy out of the dress. He took the opportunity to divest himself of his jeans, realizing only at that moment that his shirt was still in the backseat of the abandoned car.
It was a concern for tomorrow-him as in the here and now, his wife was sprawled naked in front of him, crooking a finger and patting the bed beside her. She was a siren call he couldn't - and wouldn't - resist. Her skin was dewey from sweat and the flush of pleasure, and Jonathan couldn't help the sense of pride he felt, knowing he was the one who had undone her so fully. He wondered if he would ever stop marveling at their life together; at their passion and deep, abiding devotion. He hoped not, as it meant he might take her - and them - for granted.
And so he stretched out beside her, running his fingers from the swell of her hip to press between her shoulder blades, drawing her into his embrace.
The frenzy of earlier had dissipated leaving behind a pleasant, buzzing desire to simply make love to his wife. To spend the night in her arms, his senses filled with her. She was warm and malleable in his touch, pressing kisses and touches and loving words to his skin. When she lifted her thigh over his hip and positioned him at her entrance, he surged into her lazily, with calculated restraint. They moaned together, their synchronous "darlings" melting together into a single moan of relief.
Jennifer's palms cupped the back of Jonathan's neck, holding him delicately but firmly, forcing his gaze to hold to hers. It was a reminder that, fun and games aside, what they made between them was something far more complex than the simple act of sex. They were, in all the ways that mattered, making love. He wanted to turn her, to deepen the angle of his thrusts and cup her breasts from behind…but he did not want to lose the sight of her eyes, bright copper in the low light of their bedroom. Sweet affection suffused with sharp desire as his muscles began to tighten in the first stirrings of release. He dipped a finger to her clit, gently at first, until he heard the catch in her breath and felt her contract around him.
Her lids began to flutter as he moved faster, massaging her rear even as he drove into her with ever-increasing thrusts.
"J-J-Jo-Jonathaaaaaan," she sighed as she came again, her neck arching back wildly and her hands fisting in his hair, tugging almost painfully. With a hoarse cry Jonathan followed her into oblivion, nonsense words of pleasure and release. His hips jerked twice more before he stilled inside her and pressed his lips to her arm, the only bit of her he could reach without moving.
They stayed like that for some time, until Jennifer began to shift and disengage herself. He was prepared to let her go, to disappear into the bathroom to clean up, but instead she simply rearranged into a more comfortable position, her chin resting on his sweat-slicked pectorals.
"That was worth waiting for," she said at length. Her voice was always so low and warm after sex, throaty and unbelievably erotic. She could read him the phone book in that voice, and he could easily come, over and over again, just to the sound of her. Sated as he was, the familiar cadence chased pleasant shivers and gooseflesh down his arms. He didn't resist the urge to suckle at her lips for long, blessed minutes.
Jonathan broke the kiss with a final nibble at her upper lip and Jennifer's eyes fluttered open. She seemed to have momentarily lost her place, her brow furrowing until she could recall what she had been saying. There was that pride again, and when she caught his grin she scowled in half-hearted admonishment.
"That was worth waiting for," She started again, giving him a long look. There were multitudes in that gaze, contemplative and adoring, and (surprisingly) hesitating. "But…I don't think we should wait so long, next time."
Jonathan couldn't help but tease her a bit. "You missed me."
And when she answered, his heart skipped just a little at her sincerity. "Dreadfully."
"Can I tell you a secret?" He asked, unable to resist another peck to her nose. She could be so many things at once. Sexy and serious, sweet and devilish, achingly romantic and dizzyingly frivolous. He adored every facet of the gem she was. "I missed you dreadfully too."
"Darling, maybe I should cut back on my assignments," Jennifer mused sleepily, tucking her chin and resting her cheek on his chest. She was tired. Not sleepy, but exhausted from the separations. Days and weeks where they passed like ships in the night.
"I don't want you to do that." He never believed it was necessary for Jennifer to give up her career to cater to him. He didn't believe it when they were first married and, as her writing career only continued to flourish and grow, he certainly didn't believe it now.
"I know you don't." She ran her fingers over his chest, drawing lightly around his nipple. He shivered and she smiled against his skin. "But it might make sense. For us."
Jonathan stayed quiet for several long moments, enough that Jennifer snuck a peak at him to make sure he hadn't dozed.
"I think what makes sense for us," He slid his arm to support her back and then rolled until she was tucked securely under him. "Is that we make the most of the times we are together, to see us through for when we aren't."
She nodded, her ear pressed to his heart. He was right. He would never ask her to compromise her career to simply match her schedule to his. But she could - and likely would - choose her assignments with more care. The foothold of the internet would make things like electronic mail more widely used and she would be able to do a bit more of her research remotely. She had faith that they would work it out - they always did.
Jonathan wasn't quite ready for another round, but he rubbed himself against her all the same, hoping to break the serious spell they were falling under. He was rewarded with her throaty hum of approval.
They spent the rest of the night taking each other apart, bit by bit, rearranging their very atoms to make more room for the other in their minds and hearts. When they thought they could not love one another more, stars would burst behind their eyes and they would find themselves that much deeper. Together, always together.
Whatever Jonathan had promised about time and space, if you asked Jennifer she would tell you he delivered in spades.
The sun, when it finally peaked over the horizon on the first day of November, found them in a deeply exhausted slumber, tangled together. They would wake, stretch, and take each other to breakfast, served by their Max. He would smirk and smile and tease Mrs H for her hangover and sneak bacon to Junior, who wasn't very sneaky at all.
And somewhere out there, on a curve along Mulholland, an officer would leave a ticket on the windshield of an abandoned Rolls Royce, a black turtleneck tossed haphazardly in its backseat.
It was definitely, certainly, not even a little out of gas.
"Kids," he'd mutter then move on to start his day.
A/N - In "Old Friends Never Die" Jonathan shows Jennifer his old car that's in storage and reminisces about his college days and girls in the car. He mentions the old "ran out of gas" bit he used to keep girls out after curfew. Jennifer asks "didn't they run out of gas on Mulholland?" and Jonathan was like...that was two years ago. Besides, didn't he keep her out past 11? then they made out for long enough that they had to apologize to Max for taking such a long time in there. Sorry this isn't Halloween anymore - I just couldn't get m'self together to finish it in time.
