Hmm. Michael's not at home. I really need to... talk to him. Yeah. Talk.

7:10 P.M.
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He's not at the Crashdown.

7:19 P.M.
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Not with Max, Isabel, Tess or Kyle either -- saw them at the movie place. Thought Michael might be there, renting "Braveheart" for the ten millionth time. Obviously, he's not.

7:28 P.M.
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I even went to the library to look for Spaceboy. He does have that whole... reading thing going on, after all. Saw Alex there, but no Michael

7:41 P.M.
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He's not out in the desert either, practicing his powers or meditating, like Kyle taught him or any of that stuff that usually goes on in the desert when there are aliens involved. I have to say, I'm disappointed. The desert area out here is secluded, quiet and peaceful. It would be the perfect place to... never mind.

8:00 P.M.
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Still not at his apartment. Thank God for my key. And thank God for Febreze, 'cause his place reeks!

8:12 P.M.
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Where the FUCK is Spaceboy?!?!?! All I wanted was a little Wednesday night action. Is it so hard to stay home and wait for me? Damn.

8:30 P.M.
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Well, not a soul has seen him. I thought maybe he'd taken off on some quest, but then I pushed that idea away. Michael may be impulsive, but there's usually some telltale clue as to where he is. Granted, that clue is usually my -- and the Jetta's -- disappearance. Does the car just scream, "Take me! Take my driver! Abuse us both!"? I'm so damn glad he got the motorbike -- the cost of repairs on the car has been cut in half the past few months.

8:45 P.M.
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Back at the Crashdown. Food was becoming an issue to my ever-growling stomach. Of course, some attention was becoming an issue to my ever-rampaging hormones...

Liz says Michael's not on schedule till Friday. (Duh! like I don't keep track of when he works!) "Maybe he went to see Laurie," she commented sympathetically. I guess she must think that I'm worried about him, that I think he's in danger or something. Not tonight, Liz. I just started out wanting to get laid, for godsakes! Who knew it was going to turn into a game of hide and seek?

8:55 P.M.
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Now that I think back on it, I feel kind of slutty. I've been all over town looking for some man to screw me senseless.

8:56 P.M.
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Then again, Michael's not just any man. Those eyes. That body. That mouth.

8:57 P.M.
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Did Michael sleep with Courtney?

8:58 P.M.
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He says he didn't. But let's face it -- anything with a penis is naturally inclined to lie, cheat, steal or nag at you.

9:01 P.M.
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Although, I would have done Courtney too. She was a man-stealing bitch, but hell -- look at her. I wonder what it would have been like to slip my fingers into her hot, dripping --

9:01 and 30 seconds
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What the hell am I thinking? Courtney?!?! I'm a pervert. A sick pervert.

9:04 P.M.
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Of course, I would have screwed Rath too. He was Michael all over, plus some fantastic extras. I wonder what that lip ring would have felt like as it ran over that tiny, sensitive nub --

9:04 and 45 seconds
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Stop that fantasizing! What the hell is wrong with me tonight?!?!

9:07 P.M.
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That's it, I'm leaving the Crashdown. My thoughts are getting way too out of hand, and the thought of slipping my hand down and pleasing myself under this leather skirt is becoming more of a temptation.

9:08 P.M.
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When did I become such a nympho?

9:09 P.M.
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That's a stupid thought. I became a total and complete horndog the first I felt Michael Guerin explore my mouth with his tongue.

9:10 P.M.
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Speaking of the lovely tongue of Mr. Guerin...

9:12 P.M.
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No! Forbidden thoughts! Can't think anymore. Turning off the brain.

9:13 P.M.
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And who taught that boy how to kiss, anyway? Is it an alien thing? Good lord. No bit of my tongue goes untouched, no part of my mouth unexplored when Michael kisses me, and always leaving me with swollen lips. I always feel faint when his mouth is crushing mine, especially when his hand is in my panties, fingertips playing roughly inside me at the same time...

9:15 P.M.
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Let's face it: Michael Guerin and the words "sexual god" are synonymous.

9:16 P.M.
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You know what? Fuck Michael. Wait! No! No fucking Michael yet. I'll do that another night. I don't have a clue as to where Spaceboy has gotten off to, anyway.

Actually, that makes sense. He's probably getting off somewhere. Alone. Exploding. Without me. Dammit.

So that's what I'll do. I'm going to go home, take a nice long shower, and pleasure my own damn self. Can't find a man to do it, but when they want YOU for something --

* * *

"Oh my God!" Maria screamed as she walked in her bedroom door.

All the candles in her room were placed in a circle around her bed, glowing in the darkness. Michael lay on her bed, spread out comfortably. And completely naked.

Maria's knees felt weak, and she could only stand there as Michael stood up and stalked towards her. He began to undress her slowly, her clothes falling into a pile by the door. When she was completely naked, Michael picked her up and laid her carefully on the bed. "I hear you've been looking all over town for me, blondie," he whispered into her ear, lightly biting the lobe.

Maria's flesh broke into goosebumps, and she choked out, "Yeah. How'd you... um, how'd you know?" It was hard to form a sentence, especially with his mouth sucking hungrily at her throat. Words just didn't want to escape.

"I stopped by the Crashdown, and Liz told me you had that desperate, horny look on your face," Michael chuckled, running his fingertips over her face and neck. As he lifted her arms above her head, Maria whispered, "So what have you been doing all evening, while I tried to chase you down?"

Michael reached over into her nightstand drawer for the items he'd placed inside, just a few minutes beforehand. "I've been rather busy," he growled, handcuffing her wrists to the bed. "Very busy."