into his pants and looked around for his shirt, which lay in shreds behind the couch.
He had a tan that ended at the neckline and just below the shoulders; the rest of him was milk white. He looked up at her from the gap between the couch and the coffee table with a pleading in his eyes, as if he were looking up from a coffin in which he was about to be buried alive.
"Sorry," he said.
He wasn't looking her in the eye, and Val suddenly realized that he was talking to her exposed breasts. She pulled her blouse closed, and a battery of insults rose in her mind, ready to be fired, but all of them were mean-spirited and would serve to do nothing but make them both feel ashamed. He was who he was, and he was honest and real, and she knew that he hadn't meant to hurt her. So she cried. Thinking, Great, crying is what got me into this in the first place.
She plopped down on the couch with her face in her hands. Gabe moved to her side and put his arm around her. "I'm really sorry. I'm not very good at this sort of thing."
"You're fine. It's just too much."
"I should go." He started to stand.
She caught his arm in a death grip. "You go and I'll hunt you down and kill you like a rabid dog."
"I'll stay."
"No go," she said. "I understand."
"Okay, I'll go."
"Don't you dare." She threw her arms around him and kissed him hard, pulling him back down onto the couch, and within seconds they were all over each other again.
That's it, she thought, no more crying. It's the crying that does it. This guy is aroused by my pain.
But soon they lay in a panting sweaty pile on the floor and the idea of crying was light-years away.
And this time Gabe said, "That was wonderful."
Val noticed a wineglass overturned by her head, a cabernet stain bleeding over the carpet. "Is it salt or club soda?"
Gabe pulled away far enough to look into her eyes and saw that she was looking at the stained carpet. "Salt and cold water, I think. Or is that blood?" A drop of sweat dripped off his forehead onto her lips.
She looked at him. "You weren't thinking about that creature that doesn't exist, were you?"
"Just you."
She smiled. "Really?"
"And a weed-whacker, for some reason."
"You're kidding."
"Uh, yes, I'm kidding. I was only thinking of you."
"So you don't think I'm a horrible person for what I've done?"
"You were trying to do what you thought was right. How could that be horrible?"
"I feel horrible."
"It's been a long time. I'm out of practice."
"No, not about this. About my patients. You really think something could be preying on them?"
"It's just a theory. There may not even be a creature."
"But what if there is? Shouldn't we call the National Guard or something?"
"I was thinking of calling Theo."
"Theo isn't even a real cop."
"He deserves to know."
They lay there in silence for a few minutes, staring at the spreading stain on the carpet, feeling the sweat run down their ribs, and listening to the beat of each other's hearts.
"Gabe?" Val whispered.
"Yes."
"Maybe we should go to couples' counseling."
"Should we get dressed first?"
"You were serious about the weed-whacker, weren't you?"
"I don't know where that image came from."
"There's supposed to be a good couples' guy in San Junipero, unless you'd rather go to a woman counselor."
"I thought we were going to call the National Guard."
"Only if it comes to that," Val said. Thinking, When we tell the shrink about this, I'm leaving out the part about the wine spilling.
Theo
Is there anything more irritating than people who have just been laid? Especially when you have not. Not for a long time.
Oh, it was obvious as soon as they came through Molly's front door, waking Theo for the second time that night: Gabe's grin looking like the oversized grill on an old Chrysler, Val Riordan wearing jeans and almost no makeup; the both of them giddy and giggling and blushing like children. Theo wanted to puke. He was happy for them, but he wanted to puke.
"What?" Theo said.
Gabe was obviously amped and trying not to show it. He put his hands in his pockets to keep from waving them around. "I" - he looked at Val and smiled - "we think that this creature, if it exists, may be attracted to prey with low serum serotonin levels."
Gabe bounced on the balls of his feet as he waited for his