In the Time of Man

(I am off on a bit of a motorcycle tour of parts of the American West. I will continue to file while traveling, and have a story both sad and beautiful about a motorcycle and a great spirit. I expect to tell that story this weekend, if possible, and file narratives and pictures from the road.

Below is the latest chapter of the science fiction novel. If you want to catch up with earlier chapters, go to Texas to the World’s homepage and scroll down through recent publications. The feedback from readers has been great on this novel and I am so happy about all the people sharing my writing. I just need more subscribers. Tell your mama and daddy and their friends and your friends. And if you are unfamiliar with the novel in progress, the promotional copy is below before the latest chapter. - JM)

From the Dogon Tribal villages along the Great Bend of the Niger River, to the glassy towers and glamorous lives of the American Southwest, "In the Time of Man" is a story of people confronting both the history and the fate of humanity. A reporter and two scientists are determined to prove that another intelligence has been operating on planet Earth since the beginning of mankind's evolution. Humans have received external help to make it through the new millennium and there are clues there is more intervention underway as a result of a failure to manage the world's resources. Cattle are being mysteriously mutilated, people are growing inexplicably ill, and researchers trying to understand these phenomena are being threatened by a government that might just be facilitating a culling of the planet's population. Telling the truth is dangerous and love and sex can be fatal. But who is responsible for the present plagues of our world and how can they be stopped? "In the Time of Man" explores the facts behind the theory that ancient aliens have guided humanity to its current station and that they are still engaged in determining our destiny. The essential question asked by this story is what will we know before we meet our fate? A Nobel Laureate, a decorated female TV news correspondent, and a renegade researcher all race to discover the truth and share it with the world before they are silenced, or no one will ever know what happened "In the Time of Man."

Chapter Seven

A large nylon suitcase lay across the bed in Walter and Ann Robbins' room. Ann was carefully folding clothes and stacking them in their appropriate categories before placing garments inside her bag. Walter realized, however, his wife’s normally meticulous manner was being affected by exasperation with him.

"I just don't understand it, Walt," Ann said. "You're hardly twenty years old any more.  And God knows we can afford the airline ticket."

Walter sat on the edge of the bed, smiling. "That's precisely the point, Annie. That's why I am going to drive. Because I am not twenty. I act too much like a damned adult.  Worse yet, I act like an adult professional executive. I'm just tired of all the predictability. A little variety is not going to hurt me. Give me a break here, honey. It's a little road trip, that's all. It will give me a chance to de-pressurize."

"Well, I don't see why you have to worry us, that's all. Besides, it's going to use up some of your vacation time with the girls."

"I'll stay an extra day or two, Ann. The girls never miss me when they're up there, anyway. You know that."

The look Ann Robbins gave her husband indicated to Walter that he had won and she was no longer interested in arguing. He watched as she went out the door of their master suite and down the hallway, calling to their daughters to hurry with their packing. She was a small woman with narrow shoulders and long slender limbs.  There was a subtle, boney sway to Ann’s hips and Walter loved the way she kept her arms bent at forty five degree angles when she walked so that every destination and movement appeared to have great purpose.  

Walter had been worried that his wife would be upset with his plans to drive to Colorado. Usually, he flew up to Grand Junction to be with his family during the middle two weeks of August but this year he had decided to travel by car. Memories of a road trip with college buddies had prompted him to plan the drive. He remembered stopping by the side of Highway 191 just south of Monticello in Utah.  When they all had gotten out of the car to stretch their legs and pee, the three of them immediately noticed an absolute silence. They heard no people, no wind, no animals, and no traffic. The world felt as quiet and still as it must have been before humans began to change it all with their weapons and farms and machines. Walter remembered thinking that if the stars had been making sounds they might have heard them.

The drive from Phoenix to Colorado to join his family on vacation had no other purpose than to provide Walter with quiet time. He never felt like he had even spare moments to think about anything but his responsibilities to the television station and his family. The route to Grand Junction had already been laid into his GPS and Walter found that he was rediscovering the excitement of looking at maps and dreaming of adventure down every little blue highway. North, out of Flagstaff, he intended to cross the Painted Desert and go up to Kayenta and on through the Monument Valley of Utah. While Ann was scheming ways to get him to take the plane, Walter kept sneaking out into the garage to rummage around in the attic, looking for old camping gear. An extra day or two had been included in his itinerary to stop for a hike. This part of the trip he kept from Ann, though, because he knew she would worry about him sleeping on the ground in the big emptiness of a place like Canyonlands or Arches National Monument. 

She came back into the bedroom and interrupted his daydreaming. "The girls are arguing over what dolls to take." Ann went to the dresser mirror and began brushing her hair as Walter watched from across the room.

"And exactly what are you looking at, mister?"

"Oh, I was just admiring that narrow little gap at the top of your thighs. Did you know you're built like all of the world's most beautiful women?"

Ann laughed. "Forget it, pal. The flight leaves in less than two hours and we've got two little girls down the hall."

"I thought that was why parents had locks on their doors."

There was no point in pressing the issue further, Walter knew. Hell, there was never time for each other. Maybe his relationship with Ann was what continued to tug at him unrecognized. Familiarity might be killing off their interest in each other. There were far too many moments when Walter was convinced that all they had in common was their children. He knew he still loved Ann but he wanted to love her again in the way he did when they had first met. Is that possible for any married couple? Maybe that was too much to hope for after almost twenty years of marriage. 

If his life had any sadness at all, it was that their curiosity about each other was dying.  Nothing unexpected remained. Walter knew exactly how his wife would move when they made love and each sound she would emit and when he would hear them.  Spontaneity was gone. Sex was a function, no more related to the way they felt for each other than was the time they spent eating or working in the yard or cleaning the house. 

Ann turned from the dresser. "Well, what's on your agenda this weekend, Mr. Robbins? A few beers with the boys, I assume."

"I told you what I'm doing tonight," Walter answered. "I'm sure I will be spending a lot of the Gamenet Corporation's money to sign Michelle Mina to a new contract."

Ann stood and put her hands on her hips. In her blue jean skirt and white blouse, Walter thought she looked like the co-ed he had pursued when they were both students at Arizona State University. There was still not the faintest hint to him that his wife was approaching her fortieth year.

"Oh, that's right. I forgot. Poor old Walter has to have dinner with the one woman in Phoenix who is making teenaged boys and grown men slobber whenever she appears on television."

 Rising, Walter went to where his wife was standing and encircled her in his arms.   "That's right. And she'll probably be throwing herself at me. The only way I'll ever be able to resist and avoid the temptation is if you use me up right now before you leave."

Ann slipped from his grasp. "Walter Robbins, you are disgusting."

"I’m sure you mean that in the nicest possible way. But just remember; you had your chance."

"Smartass."

"Oh, Annie, come on. The stuff you think up. No need to worry about this having any romantic potential, my dear. For one thing, I am madly in love with this woman I married who won't pay me any attention at the moment. The other reason is because we will be having a threesome for dinner. The lovely Miss Mina will be accompanied by her asshole New York attorney and agent, Edmund Nelson. But you are right about one thing. I will get screwed. Michelle Mina knows she has us over a barrel. And she is going to nail us but good. The bad part is I don't think ol’ Edmund's going to let her sign for more than a year. And he's going to demand all kinds of escape clauses, which puts KSUN in an unfair position if she gets someone willing to pay her a lot more money during the contract year."

Ann had returned to the mirror and the task of brushing her hair and when she looked at him Walter realized she had not heard a single word he had just spoken about business matters.

"I don't like her, Walt. I never have."

"Yeah, I know. When did beautiful women ever like each other, anyway? But research indicates almost everyone else in this valley does like her, a lot. And if there is any way this company can afford it, I have to try to keep her around. I think she might be the only thing saving us from losing our butt to Internet news sources."

Ann came over and energetically zipped her suitcase to make a statement. "I mean it, Walt. Michelle Mina doesn't think about anyone or anything but herself. She's like every beautiful woman in the world. She thinks she is supposed to get whatever she wants out of life just because of the way she looks. And she usually does. The most difficult thing that woman has ever done, Walt, is to weigh her numerous, very pleasant options."

Walter pleaded. "Ann, please. It's a business dinner. And like I said, I am helplessly in love with a little brunette who happens to look wonderful in tight summer skirts."

"Okay, subject dropped. Let's get to Sky Harbor." Ann yelled to their daughters in the other room. "Girls. Time to go."

August was the only time Ann Robbins did not appear to enjoy life in Phoenix. Walter accepted the fact that she needed to get away from the ceaseless heat. Initially, he assumed Ann's listlessness was part of a ruse to visit her sister's apple and peach orchard overlooking the Colorado River Valley outside of Grand Junction. He knew his wife would never get over her childhood on the low mesas and the memories of fragrant fruit blossoms blowing over the river rapids. He did not blame her for this. 

On the way to the airport, they made the usual small talk. The girls played quietly in the back seat. Ann spoke of bills Walter needed to pay on the Internet while she was gone and how she thought August seemed to be hotter this year than she had ever remembered. The house plants had to be watered every two days, she told him, and please remember to cancel the mail delivery before he left for Colorado, and text her when he left and as he made progress on his trip.

The nature of the conversation made Walter long to once more get to know Ann.  When they were first dating, she was the one with the more magnificent dreams. On their first night out together as sophomores, he had taken Ann to dinner and then for a late drive up South Mountain. Looking at the lights of Phoenix in the valley below and the way they ran off in long colored lines, Ann became silent. After a while, she told Walter how she wanted to see Australia and live on a ranch in the Outback and that she hoped to one day complete an oil painting and place it in an art show.  Another one of her schemes was to ride the trains through Europe and live on Evian water and French bread and pastries and doing a lot of irresponsible things before she got a job and ended up living on a cul-de-sac, an idea that actually elicited a scream into the dark of South Mountain Park. 

These were visions that never came to Walter. If you were from a small ranch outside of Plains, Texas, just moving away was living a kind of a dream. Leaving was always his biggest goal. He had not thought beyond that simple ambition, which may have been why Walter fell in love with Ann's dreams as deeply as he did Ann. When she stopped dreaming for herself and began living for their children, however, Walter had to admit to himself his wife was less intriguing.   

After hugging his daughters and kissing his wife good-bye at the curb, Walter felt a sense of relief accompanied by the usual guilt as he drove to the television station.  Family responsibility was gone from his daily existence for a few weeks and summers were generally a slow period in the broadcasting business. This was the least stressful time of year for the general manager of a major market network affiliate. His work day slipped away during conversations with the station's program director about the purchase of a top syndicated show to run in the fall during prime time adjacencies and then a long business lunch going over ratings numbers with the news director.  Walter expected all of their newscasts to be number one by the fall. After a slightly contentious planning session with his general sales manager, Walter called Ann’s cell phone to make certain his family had landed safely in Western Colorado. By the time he hung up with his wife, Walter realized he had less than 50 minutes to get through the rush hour traffic in Phoenix to meet Michelle Mina and her agent at her favorite trendy eatery in Scottsdale.

In the private rest room off of his office, he splashed water over his face and combed his hair. He looked in the mirror and wondered how long his hair was going to stay fully black and untouched by gray. Unbuckling his pants, he re-tucked his shirt and pulled it tight against his stomach. Only a slight push of belly against the upper edge of his belt was the faint evidence of an approaching middle-aged spread. He patted his mostly flat stomach, though, and thought, “Not bad for mid-passage, pal.” Vanity had never been viewed as a negative trait by Walter. Taking care of yourself was another tactic for remaining competitive in business and every other aspect of life.  Maybe that’s why he respected Michelle Mina’s ambitions and her calculated use of her beauty to achieve success. They were not that different from each other. 

Leaving early to deal with the traffic on Camelback Road, Walter was the only one to arrive at the prescribed time for his dinner with Michelle and her agent. He was on his third gin and tonic at the bar when she tapped him on the shoulder.

"Are you waiting on me, kind sir?"

Walter stood. "I most certainly was.”      

Wearing a purple silk dress, just slightly off the shoulders, Michelle was dressed a bit differently than what Walter had expected for a business negotiation. The cut of the dress was low enough to reveal the roundness of her breasts but without exposing any cleavage. What looked to Walter like a diamond-encrusted choker enhanced Michelle’s slender neckline and teardrop earrings swayed with her slightest movement.

"I hope it's okay for your employer to say this. But even if it's not, I'm going to say it anyway. You look terrific."

"Oh, thanks, Walt."

Informality with her was rare enough that he was uncertain if his compliment went too far but the gin in his bloodstream kept him from worrying about it.

“Do you care for a drink while we wait for Edmund?”

“Oh no. Edmund’s not coming.”

He saw Michelle watching him closely, perhaps attempting to assess his reaction.  He tried to show nothing though he wondered how Liam’s absence might be turned to her negotiating advantage.

"Not coming?"

"No. Not this time. I'm handling this one on my own."

Walter was unable to completely hide surprise. "Are you sure? I mean, Edmund's been with you from the beginning and he does know this business." 

"He's still with me. I just don't need him this time. I know all that I need to know in order to handle my own contract this go around. Edmund's working on some other things for me right now."

"Well, that's great. I'm all for keeping agents out of the mix whenever possible, as you already know."

Michelle laughed. “This isn’t going to be easier or cheaper for you, Walt. You might have wanted him here.”

“I’m sure of that,” he said. “Let’s get a table.”

The possibility of having to haggle with an overbearing talent agent like Edmund Nelson had actually made Walter Robbins dread this night and the negotiating process. He was relatively confident that the employer-employee relationship gave him a distinct advantage in business discussions with Michelle without her professional business agent present.

A waiter appeared beside their table and Walter asked him to bring a bottle of a California Pinot Noir. Michelle unfolded her napkin and Walter watched the play of her fingers and the flash of bright red lacquered color on her nails. She drew a hand up across her forehead and then back through her hair, lifting it momentarily from her shoulders. Michelle’s hair was long and varying colors of sand and a yellow like straw and when it was in front of her shoulders it brushed softly against the curve of her breasts.

"You know, Walt, there really isn't much to negotiate here. We both know the revenues Desert View generates and its audience size. You know what I can do for the show and I know what KSUN can do for me. I know the ad revenues and the production costs so it’s pretty easy math, as you know."

"Well, you’re right; this isn't going to be as easy as I thought."  Walter intended his statement to be a disarming joke but Michelle did not respond. "So, would you care to dictate your terms? But before you do, we live in the era of this thing called the Internet, and there are many straws in the river now."

"I assumed that was coming?"

"Well, the numbers that give you your confidence are soft, and getting softer every day. We compete with websites for eyeballs these days."

“Yes, I understand all that. But KSUN is still doing very well. I also need to be honest with you and tell you I already have feelers from the nets and a couple of top five market stations."

"Oh, just stop, Michelle. No need to resort to blackmail. I know your marketability.  Just give it to me straight."

"Okay. I'll guarantee you one more year. Only one escape clause and that’s to host a network newscast. Otherwise, you pay me $500k, a clothing and car allowance. And this time next year, we talk again, about a syndication package, if you want me to stay."

The waiter reappeared with their wine. Walter was relieved because it gave him a moment to think about Michelle's proposal. After Walter tasted the Pinot, the waiter poured them each a glass and left. He took another drink and felt the fruity weight against his palate and the gentle warmth it marked in his throat.

"I confess I had a little something less in mind, Michelle. I don't suppose it would help me to point out that we aren't L.A. or New York. And if I made that kind of investment, wouldn’t I want it to be in a long term project that would provide ROI over more than a year?"

"Now wait, Walt. There's no point in playing little country broadcaster with me. I know the station's total billings. Phoenix isn’t a secondary market any more. I know what you can afford. And you can afford me, if you want me. Do you want me?"

The double entendre, intended or not, was too humorous to ignore. "Do you mind terribly if I tell my golfing buddies tomorrow that I had a private dinner with Michelle Mina and before we had even finished the first bottle of wine, she asked me if I wanted her?"

Michelle drained her glass and held it out to him for a refill. "That'll be fine, Walt. As long as you agree to those terms."

He poured. "Don't you think something around 200 or 300k would be more reasonable? Michelle, you're not even thirty years old yet."

She conceded his point. "No, I'm not. But unlike most women, I am aware of the transitory nature of my own beauty and youth. I know how briefly a flower blooms, Walt. I'm going to get it while I've got it. You know what I mean?"

"I suppose I do." He had grudging respect for her self-awareness. She had to look in the mirror every morning and she herself as a marketable asset in television, and she was approaching peak value.

"Good. $500k then and the car needs to be a Mercedes convertible, a two-seater SLK."

"Jesus."

After surrendering to her contractual dictations, they ordered dinner. During the meal, Walter brought up the interview with the baseball player Johnny Eddington. Walter wanted Michelle to back away from titillating subject matter when there were relevant issues worthy of discussion. The session with Eddington went way too far, in his opinion. 

"I think it’s great that Elliot Anders is launching his new book on your show, Michelle,” he said. “We need to find more intellectual guests and material to stimulate important discussions about things that matter to everyone.”

“Ah, so sex doesn’t matter to everyone?” She sipped her wine. Michelle’s lips were full and the line they made when pressed together turned the corners of her mouth into a curl. Walter never knew if she was smiling, smirking, or pouting.

“You don’t think you went a bit far with Eddington on the air?”

“Maybe, Walt. But did you see the overnights? Through the roof, right?”

“Yeah, well, sex sells, obviously. I just wonder if there isn’t some way for a woman with your talent and appeal to accomplish big ratings and meaningful broadcasting.”

“Wow. Do you really believe that stuff, Walt? Because I sure don’t.”

“It’s just a thought,” he said. “Maybe we could try a bit harder.”

Michelle did not speak for a few minutes and she gazed at Walter Robbins over the top of her wine glass when she drank. Finally, she smiled.

“You know my favorite quote about television, Walt?  It’s from that comedian back when they had just started doing programming in the 50s, I think. Ernie Kovacs. You know what he said? He said, ‘Television is called a medium because it is neither rare nor well-done.’  Funny how true that still is, don’t you think?”

Walter did not argue further and asked for his check. Michelle, of course, was correct. Intuitively, she had accepted the medium for what it was and he had no hope of winning a debate with her. But it frustrated the hell out of him that she was content to make her money and pander to what the audience wanted, which was never very much. This was an odd situation for Walter Robbins. Usually, general managers were the people urging their employees to test the boundaries of acceptable taste in order to see what would make the most money. He was certainly guilty of doing as much with his own news managers.

"I guess you win again, Michelle." He signed the credit card receipt. "You ready to go?"

"Yes."

"I'll see you safely to your car then. Oh boy, I get to sleep in tomorrow. The wife and kids are out of town."

"I know," Michelle said.

They went outside into the summer night. The heat seemed less oppressive to Walter than it normally was that time of year. As they crossed the parking lot, he was unable to take his eyes off of the fluid way Michelle moved in high-heels nor the brush of her hemline as it swayed against the backs of her thighs. They came to her car.

"Convertible, huh? Never have seen you drive this to work." Walter said.

"It's only for the evenings. I would die of exposure in this during daylight hours around here."

“An evening car, eh?” He put out his hand to confirm their agreement. "I guess we have a deal in principle, then?"

"Yes sir, Mr. Robbins."

Smiling at her sarcastic pseudo-formality, Walter thanked her. "Great. See you on TV Monday, then."

He turned to leave and Michelle's voice stopped him in mid-step.

"Oh," she said. "I did forget to mention one other condition."

"What's that?"

 "You have to go for a drive with me out the Carefree Highway."

 “Do what?”

 Initially, Walter considered the invitation a joke and then he tired to act like he did not hear her correctly because he had no idea of what he should say or do.

"I mean it, Walt. I have just enough wine in me to kill our whole contract deal if you don't go with me for a drive. Please. I just don't want to go home right now. I am tired of being alone. Nobody dates me. Look at me. I scare me off."

"Michelle, don't be silly. You could date any man in this town that you want. And I've got to get home. So do you. It's late. And I’m your boss, which makes this officially awkward and legally dangerous." Walter turned once more to leave.

"That won’t work tonight." Michelle's voice was more forceful and determined. "Your family isn't home. And I don't have one to go home to. Besides, you know I could walk away from KSUN tomorrow and do just fine."

“So, what, you are blackmailing me again?” he asked.

Leaning against the driver's side door of her car, Michelle had her arms crossed beneath her breasts and there was defiance in the tilt of her head. Walter knew he was asking too much of himself to think he might actually be able to decline her offer.

“I’m doing whatever it takes to get you to spend a little time with me,” she said. “Just harmless conversation under the desert sky.”

"So is this the story of the beauty queen who is so attractive men are afraid to approach her and she ends up spending her time alone and her great beauty becomes nothing more than a curse?”

"I don't care what you call it, Walt. I just need some company for a while. Just a short drive out toward Carefree. That's all."

"Okay. I willingly submit." 

Walter went over and got into the passenger's seat. Michelle's profile was outlined by the restaurant's lights as she slid into the driver's side and started the convertible.

"So, I guess you have to force men to accompany you all the time?”

"Not so much, pal. But most of them bore the hell out of me."

The Japanese engine made its precise hum as they pulled out into the traffic on Scottsdale Road and turned northward. Scottsdale's streets looked almost anti-septic to Walter. Boulevard grasses were always trimmed with obsessive neatness and all the palms grew to what looked like standardized heights approved by a city council vote. Condo developments and rows of townhouses with cramped patios fell behind them as Michelle May raced her car toward the open country. North of the city, the sky became even clearer, and Walter saw the light from the half moon reflecting off the deep wax on the car's hood. Road noise and the rush of air made conversation too much of an effort.

Carefree Highway was never as alluring as its name. Dips in the pavement served as dry washes during heavy rains and the car rolled pleasantly over the humps.  Development of strip centers and housing projects reached far into the desert and the Carefree Highway was not long from transforming into a boulevard jammed with traffic and quick stop stores. 

 "I love it out here," Walter said as they passed the last of the construction equipment.

 "You mean here? In the desert?"

 "Yeah, it's beautiful. I think the desert is the real reason I ended up down here. It fascinates me."

Michelle laughed above the road noise. "Oh come on, Walt. The desert? How could you be interested in the desert? It's mostly dead and what's not yet dead is very busy dying."

"Same misconception everyone has, Michelle. But exactly what in the hell are we doing driving out here if you don't like it?"

"I don't know, really. Sometimes I just have to get out of it all, you know? The desert's the only place to go around here."

What in God's name could this woman's demons be? The burden of beauty? There's some nonsense. Lacking the inclination to make an effort at understanding, Walter laid back against the headrest and watched the stillness of the sky.

"Walt, look. There. What's that?" Michelle pointed off to her left. A bright oval light, surrounded by five smaller ones, hung motionless against the black. 

"Jesus. I don't know. Is it a plane coming at us?"

"But it isn't moving. It’s like those Phoenix lights from back in the 90s."

Even though the main light was several times larger than any visible star, it still did not illuminate a wide area. Michelle slowed the car and they both watched the motionless light begin drifting toward the ground.

"What in the hell?"

Michelle stopped the car. The light continued floating downward, slowly losing altitude and eventually dropping below their visible horizon.

"Could have been one of those weather balloons," Walter explained. "They catch fire all the time."

"That thing wasn't burning, Walt."

"What was it then?"

"I don't know, obviously. Let's go see if we can find it."

Michelle popped the clutch and the car jumped down the road.

"How are we going to find that thing?  It could be miles from here."

She shifted gears again and they were at highway speed. 

"We'll just drive a little farther north and then turn off at the first road going west. It's out there. Let's just see if we can reach it."

Five miles beyond, they came to a track of loose gravel and dirt. As Michelle left the pavement, the bright sports car sent up a trailing plume of dust. Stones crackled and popped beneath the chassis. Walter was unable to understand why she was so intent on the pursuit.

"Not much of a way to treat a sixty thousand dollar car, Michelle."

"Oh, don't worry. I'll get another one with that nice new contract you're going to give me, remember?"

In a few minutes, the narrow trail ran out in a patch of prickly pear cactus. Michelle stopped the car, killed the lights and engine.

"Hmm. Looks like you were right, Walt. Nothing doing. It's probably a hundred miles away up in one of those national forests. Nice night, though, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I suppose it is." Walter opened his door and followed Michelle around to the front of the car. "But I thought you didn't like the desert."

"Under these conditions I do."

"These conditions feel a little awkward to me, Michelle." Her face was mostly lost to him in the short dark distance between them but he smelled her perfume, which had a kind of a sweet bite.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

Stepping closer, Walter saw the moon's pale light in her hair and shining on the jewelry resting against her skin.

"The conditions are good for me, Walt. There is a moon and quiet and privacy and an attractive man."

Walter found himself fairly startled by her honesty. "Michelle, really, it's not just awkward. This is dangerous."

She placed her hands on his shoulders. "Walt, we're as alone as two people can be.  No one will ever know except for us. And it is the most wonderful secret I can think of."

He was uncertain of how it began, if he drew her to him or just surrendered to an idea that had long ago entered his mind. Kissing Michelle he found softness and smells and warmth made of a consuming newness. Walter buried his face in the curtain of hair falling around her neck.

"Oh, Walt."

Closeness changed Michelle for Walter, making her unarmed and fragile. He saw how she wanted him to know she was without control.

"Michelle, this is as crazy as it could possibly be. My God, I have never been this foolish."

"I don't care, Walt. I don't care about anything but right now. Don't think about it. Just don't think about anyone, please. Please. Just think about us. Think about right now.  Nothing else really matters."

They moved against each other once more and Michelle eased herself up onto the car's fender. Walter felt himself rise to the firm push of her abdomen. Spreading his fingers and stroking her hair, he cradled the improbable smallness of her head in the palm of his hand.

"We need to get out of here. Go somewhere," he whispered.

“No. No. We can't. This is the place. I can't wait. Right here, Walt. Please. Now."

Without thinking again, Walter reached below and lifted her to the edge of the car's hood. She was so light it was almost effortless. He slid the hem of her dress upward and ran his hands across the top of her legs to where her stockings ended and then reached beyond the lace of her garters.

"Jesus, Michelle. You're not wearing any......."

"I know, Walt. I intended for this to happen. And now it will."

Michelle dropped her hands and quickly freed him from his pants. A part of Walter was urging him to make it all stop but he was unable to force himself to listen. She was right; no one would know and the only sound in the world was Michelle May's whispers.

"Oh, Walt. Please Walt. Tell me I'm beautiful and you want me. Tell me I'm the best.  The best forever. Tell me you'll never say no to me. I don't want you to ever be able to resist me."

"I don't think I ever will, Michelle. I don't think I ever will."

Running his hands back down her legs, Walter felt the subtle curve of her calves as he raised her feet. Off to the side, her heels flashed in the white haze of moonlight. Their clasp was slow and moving, ordered by rhythms as old as the world, and just when it began to taste of eternity, it ended.

Walter drew himself away and tilted his head back against the great obsidian curve of the desert sky. The weak glow of the moon and stars were pitiful against the limitless heavens. But nothing was more insignificant than Walter Robbins. Everything he knew himself to be had just been changed by this solitary surrender and, for the first time in his life, he had no idea of what to do.