She looked at me, impishly smug. "You can't order me. I outrank you."

"You can't pull rank in bed."

"Why not?"

"Well, for one thing . . ." I rolled her over on her back. Now I looked down on her. ". . . you're out of uniform. How do I know you're a colonel?"

"I fuck like one." Her expression was prim.

"Can't prove that by me. I've never fucked any other colonels."

"You want me to wait?"

"No, I want you to answer the question."

"What question?"

"The one you're trying to avoid. What is it you're not saying? I showed you mine, now you show me yours."

She saw I meant it and a sad look came into her eyes. She said, "I love you too."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh."

My jaw must have dropped. She reached up and pushed it closed. "Really," she insisted.

"I . . . I . . . " Now it was my turn to be flustered. I opened my mouth and a word fell out. "Why-?"

She shrugged and shook her head. "Beats the hell out of me. If I was going to pick a lover, you are probably the worst person I could pick."

"Thanks," I said.

"No, listen." She put a finger across my lips. "Jim, you are one of the dearest and sincerest and most committed men I've ever met. . . ."

"But?"

"There's no 'but.' It's all that sincerity and commitment that keeps getting you in so much trouble. I know I'm going to have my hands full trying to keep up with you."

"I didn't ask you to fall in love with me."

"So? I didn't ask you to fall in love with me either, but you did." She sounded sad. "So, here we are."

"Well, don't look so glum about it. I always heard that when two people fell in love, it's supposed to be a joyous thing."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot." She grinned up at me. "Wanna fuck?"

I couldn't help giggling. "I love you. I'll agree with anything you bring up."

"Really? Can I use my hands?" She used her hands.

"Uh . . ."

"Yes?"

I looked down. "I'm considering my response."

She followed my glance. "I like your response."

"Mm, do you?"

"I'm inclined to say so, yes."

"Well, I am prone to press the point-"

Our giggles were interrupted by the phone. It beeped loudly. We both said, "Shit!" at the same time.

"Wait a minute," Lizard said. "Let me see if I can reach it from here-"

"Here, I'll move with you-"

"I don't think this is going to work . . . "

"Yes, it will. Move your . . ."

"Oh, hell. Well, we tried-" She rolled away from me and scooped the phone off the nightstand. "Tirelli here."

Her expression clouded. "Say again? . . . Why?" She looked annoyed. "Yes, I'll be here. Yes, probably all night. Thank you." She hung up.

"Who was that?" I reached out for her.

"Dispatch." She didn't roll back to me. I let go of her shoulder. She seemed smaller now. Sadder. She sighed and said, "They were angry. I turned my beeper off. They wanted to know where I was." She lay down again, facing me, but her eyes were still distant. She rubbed her nose. "They told me to stay here for a while. They wouldn't say why."

I didn't say anything to that. I just waited. There was more. She reached over and patted me. "I guess we could do that. Couldn't we?" Her voice went soft. "I suppose we could think of something to do, couldn't we?"

"How about I just hold you for a while?"

"That would be good."

And then we shut up for a while. Whatever else we had to say wasn't important. It could wait.

She had the smoothest skin. Touching her was a luxury.

I felt like the man named O'Quinn-with an inordinate interest in skin . . .

After a bit, I started laughing again.

Lizard levered herself up on one arm. With her other hand she brushed the hair back from her face. "What?"

"Limericks. "

"Limericks?"

"Yeah. Limericks."

She blinked in confusion. "They told me you were crazy, Jim, but...."

"They were right. I am crazy. Totally bugfuck. I've been hearing voices in my head and having hallucinations ever since that worm fell on me three years ago."

"-But everybody's crazy these days. It's a given. So that's no excuse. Why limericks?"

"I dunno. I just keep thinking up limericks."

She grabbed my hand and bent several of my fingers backward. "Why now?"

"Ouch! Okay, okay. I was thinking of the one I wrote about you."

"You wrote a limerick about me?"

I shrugged, sort of embarrassed. "Yeah."

"Nobody's ever written a poem about me ever." She leaned over and kissed me.

"I think you should hear the limerick before you thank me."

"It's the thought that counts-" Then her expression clouded. She frowned suspiciously. "Let's hear the limerick."

"Okay, but don't say you weren't warned." She reached for my fingers again. I recited quickly,

"There was a mad pilot named Lizzy,

whose manners were said to be skizzy.

She could loop, she could twirl;

she could make your head whirl.

She left all her men fucking dizzy."

"Dizzy who?" asked Lizard.

"I don't explain 'em. I only write 'em."

"Hmm," she said. "Tell me another."

"Okay." I told her the one about Chuck-

who expressed a great fondness for duck.

Whether gravied or roasted, pressed, ,sauced or toasted.

--And he never got down on his luck."

Lizard looked at me blankly. "I don't get it."

"Down. You know, as in: 'How do you get down off an elephant?' "

"Huh?"

"You don't get down off an elephant. You get down off a duck."

"Oh," she said. "That's cute."

"Cute?" I sighed. Loudly. "All right. Try this one instead. Ahem-'He was held in regard for his pluck."'

She made a face.

"'-and once he made headlines while stuck?' "

"Mmm," she jiggled her hand sideways to indicate iffyness.

"Okay, one more try: 'Tho he liked it well-seasoned, he was oft heard to reason, I haven't the thyme for a . . . "

And then the phone went off. Lizard's face froze.

She reached over and grabbed the instrument with a frightened expression. "Tirelli."

She listened intently for a moment, then her face went gray. "She did? When?" She sat up quickly and switched on the light. I looked at her questioningly. She waved to me to keep silent. She was listening very hard. Her expression was grim. "Now? Couldn't you have given me a little more warning? Oh, is that what that was? Do I have time for a shower?"

I didn't wait. I rolled out of bed, padded to the bathroom and punched up a steaming spray. When I came back into the room, she was saying to the phone, "He's already on his way? All right-I'll meet him downstairs." She hung up.

"Meet who?"

"My driver. Lay out my clothes-?" She was already on her way to the bathroom.

"A clean uniform?"

"No, a jumpsuit. I'm flying tonight."

"What's going on?" I followed her into the shower, picked up a loofa and started scrubbing her back-and lower.

"Stop that. I'm in a hurry."

"To do what?"

"I can't tell you." She turned around under the spray, rinsing herself off. "You'll have to see it on TV."

"See what?"

"As of ten minutes ago, it's official. The president is moving the capital to Hawaii."

"And you're flying her?"

"Oh, no, she's got her own pilot. And they're already on their way, as of ten minutes ago. They didn't release my orders until Air Force One left the ground." She was already out of the shower and toweling herself off. "There's a driver on his way to pick me up. My plane is fueled and waiting."

"Who are you flying?"

She didn't answer. She just shook her head and walked away from me.

I followed her back into the bedroom. I watched her get dressed. She pulled on the jumpsuit quickly.

"What's going on, Lizard."