Maria twirled around, revealing the dress’ provocatively low back, then struck a pose. “You like, space boy?” she asked in what she meant to be a French accent.

Michael shrugged and scratched his head. “Words really aren’t my thing, Maria,” he said. But when she looked disappointed in his answer, he added, “But I could show you.” Maria beamed. “I’d probably ruin your make-up.”

Maria smiled at him tenderly. “That’s ok.”

Michael took several deep breaths, as if he were about to do something extremely difficult. He framed Maria’s face with his hands, kissing her softly. He tasted her mouth, ate at it, worshipped it with his tongue. He loved her, Michael thought. She was his sun-goddess, even if he didn’t always know the words to tell her. She was all. He showed her how much she meant to him the only way he knew how. Their kiss was slow and wet. It didn’t possess the fierce heat their others had but it was still as passionate.

When they finally broke apart Michael rested his chin against the top of her head, savoring the feel of her smooth, cool back against his palm. “I guess we should get going,” Michael finally said with some reluctance. Earlier Maria had suggested they all go to a club for a little drinking and dancing. Max and Liz had opted not to join them, preferring to spend their last evening in Albuquerque in the privacy of their hotel room. “I went downstairs to get the keys from Max while you were in the shower.”

Maria gaped at him in disappointed surprise. “You still want to go dancing?”

“You’re all dressed up so we might as well,” Michael said simply. He glanced down at himself, at the simple black T-shirt and jeans that he wore. For the first time in his entire life Michael Guerin was self-conscious about his clothing.

“Do I need to change?”

The boyish humility of his question made Maria smile. “No, Michael,” she whispered, “You don’t need to change. You’re perfect.”

Two hours later they were only slightly intoxicated and completely happy as they rocked together on the dance floor of Dominick’s Disco Techa. The disco lights shone down on the pair, casting an incandescent glow of warm reds, greens, and yellows on their skin. They slow danced together despite the fast song that was being played, impervious to the other dancers gyrating around them.

“I wish they’d play a slow song!” Maria said loudly, her cheek against Michael’s chest. The night had been perfect for her with Michael just being himself. The real Michael. That lost little boy that had come to her in the rain was with her tonight. Maria knew how much it had cost him to swallow his pride and reveal his vulnerability to her. She loved him for it.

Michael heard Maria’s request and he wanted to make it come true for her. He wanted her to be happy. He wanted her to keep smiling at him with her gentle eyes. He wanted to always feel like his was drowning in her love. It would be a pleasant way to die. Michael closed his eyes, concentrating hard.

“Ok, you guys,” the DJ suddenly announced over the loud speaker, “we’re gonna take this part in a new direction! So fellas grab a girl and prepare to get your groove on!”

Seconds later the mellow sounds of Joe’s “I Wanna Know” began to play. Michael held Maria tighter against his chest and Maria sighed with contentment. “That DJ read my mind,” she said.

Mine too, Michael added silently. Their hips fell together to the soft groove of the music. Michael’s hand drifted up and down the length of Maria’s exposed back. She lifted her head to look into his chocolate eyes. Her lips looked full and red and waiting. He hadn’t planned on kissing her, but he did. Maria hadn’t planned on slipping her fingers into his hair and bringing him closer, but she did.

Their kiss became hotter, lustful. Michael’s hand slipped down her back to curve around her bottom. Michael was overcome with the desire to pull her close against him, on rubbing his erection against her warm center, but he felt helpless to stop himself. The kiss was moving beyond his control, beyond hers. Maria whimpered, panted, wanted. She brought one graceful leg upward to slide around his waist and then the other. She locked her feet at the ankles around him. Her dress crept up to her thighs, but she was hardly aware of it. She was lost in Michael’s heat, in the lyrics of the song:

I wanna know what turns you on
So I can be all that and more
I wanna know what makes you cry
So I can be the one that always makes you smile

Maria felt like she was floating, flying through a world where nothing existed but Michael. His tongue, his hands, his body thrusting against hers. They strained to get closer, grinding, thrusting, rubbing. Michael gripped her bottom hard, bringing her against him in a rhythm that was purely sexual. Maria’s thighs flexed as she bucked against him, her cleft becoming liquid with desire. They were in the middle of a dance floor and they didn’t care. Apparently, neither did anyone else. Barely anyone noticed as Michael walked them off the dance floor, never breaking their kiss, Maria’s legs still wrapped around him.

He found a dark corner where relatively few people were and pinned Maria against the wall. He ate at her throat ravenously while his hand found her creamy center without hesitation. “No underwear?” he panted against her neck, “Is this becoming a trend?” He thrust his finger inside her.

“Easier. . . .access,” Maria managed breathlessly as his finger dipping into her again and again. She looked at him with intense blue eyes, her small face flushed with desire. “I want more than your finger, Michael,” she told him boldly, “So why don’t you give me what I want?” She paused for several beats. “Fuck me, Michael.”

“Right here? Right now?” Michael gulped.

Maria nodded slowly, running her tongue along her bottom lip.

“Maria. . .the people. . . .”

“Afraid you can’t handle it?” Maria challenged provocatively.