Tilting the Balance

She spread the blanket on the floor while he tried not to tear his clothes getting out of them in excess haste. Everything would be all right this time-he was sure of it.

Everything was better than all right. She moaned and gasped and called his name and squeezed him with those wonderful contractions of the inner muscles so he exploded in the same instant she did. “Lord! ” he said, more an exclamation of sincere respect than a prayer.

She smiled up at him, her face-probably like his-still a little slack with pleasure. “That was good, ” she said. “And you’re a gentleman, you know that? ”

“How do you mean? ” he asked absently, not quite listening: he was hoping he’d rise again.

But she answered: “You keep your weight on your elbows. ” That made him not only laugh but also slip and stop being a gentleman, at least by her standards. She squawked and wiggled, and he slid out of her. When he sat back on his knees, she reached for her discarded clothes, so she hadn’t been interested in a second round, anyhow.

Jens dressed even faster than he’d undressed. Where before he’d thought of nothing but getting his ashes hauled, now he recalled how much a stranger he was here, and what could happen to strangers when they fooled around with small-town women.

Another question formed in the back of his mind: did Mary expect to get paid? If he asked and the answer was no, he’d mortally offend her. If he didn’t ask and the answer was yes, he’d offend her a different way, one that might end up with his having a discussion he didn’t want with the gunman behind that curtained window.

After a few seconds’ thought, he found a compromise that pleased him. “What do I owe you for lunch and everything? ” he asked. If she wanted to interpret and everything to mean a couple of beers, fine. If she thought it meant more than that, well, okay, too.

“Paper money? ” Mary asked. Jens nodded. She s