**this story just kept going so now it's a 3-parter**

Part 2 of 3

Taking a deep ragged breath, he tries to calm his stuttering mind and kick-start his seized heart. A myriad of thoughts race through his mind as his Ego tries to bend the situation into some sort of rational context. His Super Ego is aghast that he has a woman in his bed! His Id is equally aghast that he has a woman in his bloody bed - and he hasn't bloody well realized it until just bloody NOW!

The mental traffic jam is horrendous and his hangover isn't helping.

OK, he thinks, one step at a time. She isn't screaming or beating me up so I can be fairly certain that this is a mutual decision. She also sounds perfectly at ease and the hand on my arm is a good clue too. She's still kissing me and I'd better wake up and respond before she takes umbrage. He takes another breath, a little less shuddery this time, and tries to relax.

This had been his goal all along, after all. He just hadn't realized it was a done deal.

Finally, he sends up silent thanks to the powers-that-be because now he doesn't need a plan after all. Cancel the long walk on the beach. Cancel the stretches beneath the palm trees. He rather thinks he might be doing stretches in a completely new manner from now on. He hopes.

OK, Poole, time to face the music. Try not to spoil everything. Put on a brave face and use your charm. This last thought takes his Ego, Super Ego, and Id by total surprise and the strident voices in his head hush into stunned silence as he prepares to face his future.

Rolling carefully over to face her, he is instantly gratified to see how tousled and satisfied she looks and before he can say a word, she kisses him on the mouth, long and lingeringly. OK, that's a good sign, he thinks. Her hands are still on me too, another good sign.

Before her touch can drop any lower, he forgets his own advice and says the first thing that comes into his head, "Did we really make love last night?" He regrets it before he's done saying it.

However, instead of going all French on him, she gives him a slow steamy look and nods, "And not just last night, mon étalon. Don't you remember?"

He bites his lip, thinks hard, but, no, he doesn't. He racks his whirling brains for some way to salvage his dignity, to keep her here, to make himself desirable, to maybe trick her into having sex with him again before she changes her mind. As usual, he draws a blank and his inner voices flare up. His Ego and Super Ego are arguing and his Id is screaming in frustrated anguish. He has no clue who will come out on top. If he waits for the voices to come to some sort of agreement, he very much doubts it will be him. He knows he can't wait for an internal consensus – he's on his own here.

He dekes a covert look to her. No, I'm not alone. Not any more. Not if I'm careful. Careful and lucky. Lucky and careful. He pushes himself up onto one elbow but can't think of anything safe to say so he just looks at her, trusting that she will know EXACTLY what to say. And do.

At his guilty look, she sits up and gives him a very careful scrutiny. As he pulls the sheet up in response and his belated blush leaps into technicolour, she suddenly claps her hands like a prize-winner on a TV game show and squeals, "Oh! I can't believe it! I get to do it TWICE!" She begins running her hands over him, tugging on his sheet, laughing between kisses that she bestows upon him like the aforementioned spring rain.

He stiffens in shock. This isn't playing out like ANY-thing he'd imagined. Now what? What am I supposed to say? What am I supposed to do? She is storming my meager defenses and I can't seem to muster a single response! His blush deepens because his Id has forged ahead with a very determined response without permission - and it's just adding to his confusion.

But his thoughts and her actions are interrupted by her startled look over his shoulder. Her eyes widen and he suddenly remembers what's going on behind him. He twists around and Harry is still at it… only now the tiny green creature is dividing his attention between the two humans and his pace increases. He is practically semaphoring with his frill. Any faster and he's liable to lift off into the rafters.

"What in the world is he doing?" she whispers.

OK, a question he can handle! "Dunno, he was doing it when I woke up." He rolls back to her, his blood starting to rush a bit now that he's had a few moments to process. He dares to run a hand down her arm, "No matter, let's forget about Harry for the moment. I'd much rather concentrate on what you were doing… what WE were doing. Tell me more about last night, will you?"

He tries to draw her nearer but she cocks her head and nods towards the little dancer, "I've seen this before somewhere, when I was a kid. Now, where was it? In the garden? At home? In town? When was it? In the spring? At night? Hmmm." She interrupts his rather modest attempt at a kiss with a question, "Where is your little book on the care and feeding of Anoles?"

He is so disconcerted that his Id temporarily loses the upper hand and he waves a hand over at his bookcase, "It's over there, second shelf, fourth from the left, but why do you…?"

His question dies on his lips. He can't believe it! She's bounced right over him and out of bed! What reflexes! What nimbleness! His Id jackboots itself back into control and now he's panting as she rummages around in his reference books. !Starkers! It improves his mood no end. Now he wants to discuss last night in the worst way!

End – part 2