The persistent banging on his door roused him from a deep slumber. He opened one bleary eye to glance at the clock and swore to himself. It was one o'clock in the afternoon. He was still in bed and exhausted.

Wrapped in his comforter, he plodded to the front door and unlocked it, not caring who was on the other side. "It's open," he called out before returning to his bed. He crawled back in and immediately fell back asleep.

"Rob, wake up."

He couldn't open his eyes. "Can't, Lucy," he managed to say, "so tired."

"Why are you so tired?"

"Don't know." He pulled the comforter over his head. "Don't feel very well."

"Do you have a fever?"

"Don't know. Just leave me alone."

"But don't you have to play tonight?"

"Don't care."

"Come on, Rob. You need to get out of bed."

"No."

Lucy pulled at the comforter. "Get up. You're sleeping the day away. You shouldn't be this tired. You didn't work last night."

"Leave me alone," he repeated.

Lucy pulled at the blanket again. "Get up!" she shouted. "Get up, get up, get up!"

He pulled the blanket from her hands. "Fuck off, Lucy."

His words hit her like a blow to the stomach. She let loose of the blanket.

"Really?" she asked. "Fuck off, Lucy? Sure, no problem, asshole."

Rob heard the door to his apartment slam shut, then he fell back to sleep.

When he opened his eyes again, it was nine o'clock. He didn't know what day it was but it was dark outside. He was too tired to even breathe.

He could barely crawl from the bed. He had to shower. He was to play this evening. He didn't know if he could accomplish it. As a matter of fact, he knew he couldn't.

He dug in his jeans for his cell and called his boss. It rang several times before he answered. "What's up, Rob?"

"I'm really sick, Jerry," he breathed. "I can still try to come in. I don't know how good I'll play, though."

"Stay home if you're sick. Get better for tomorrow. It should be busier then."

"Thanks, appreciate it."

He hung up, used the bathroom, and went back to bed.

***

The morning sun grew relentless in its search for Rob's eyes. It crept up his chin and over his face until finally settling on his eyelids. He threw an arm over his eyes to block out the brightness, grabbing the spare pillow to plant over his face. It didn't help. He was awake.

He rolled over, sat up, and placed his feet on the floor. He felt out of sorts. He trudged wearily to the bathroom, relieved himself, then snatched up his toothbrush, loaded it with toothpaste, and brushed his teeth. His mouth felt like a litter box, one that had not been cleaned in a while.

He rinsed his mouth several times and glanced in the mirror. He didn't have bags under his eyes. He had a complete set of luggage. He wasn't sure he'd be able to get a brush through his hair. It needed to be washed and conditioned. He could do that later. Right now, he needed something to drink.

The smell of fresh coffee came from the kitchen. Lucy sat on the couch, sipping from the mug that read "Bass Players Strum Deeper". He ignored her and went into the kitchen, got a mug from the cupboard, and poured the steaming coffee. He brought the mug to his nose and inhaled. 

Sipping cautiously at the hot coffee, he left the kitchen and joined Lucy in the living room. He saluted her with the mug. "Thanks," he said briefly as he plopped into the chair across from her. "You been here long?"

She glared at him, her eyes flashing over her mug. "I shouldn't be here at all, after the way you spoke to me."

He sipped at his coffee. He wasn't ready for drama, but her words stung, and he felt the irritation crawl up his back like an electric eel. His shoulders tensed. His body felt like it was on fire. "Then why are you?" 

"I was concerned," she answered.

"You were concerned. About what?"

"Because I couldn't get you to wake up."

"Maybe I didn't want to wake up."

"But you slept for days."

"Maybe I couldn't wake up."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I could barely get my eyes open. I felt like a lump of nothing, Luce." He lifted his eyes to her, then shrugged.

"How do you feel now?" 

"I'm okay, I guess."

She sat quietly for a moment, sipping thoughtfully at her coffee. "I think you need to see a doctor," she said finally.

"I don't need to see a doctor."

"And why not?"

"Because I don't have trouble falling asleep. I have trouble staying awake."

"Well, maybe you have narcolepsy or something like that."

Rob expelled a short laugh.

"That's not funny."

"I didn't mean to laugh," he said, rising from the chair and joining her on the couch. He slipped an arm around her and pulled her closer. "I just didn't expect that kind of answer. I was waiting for you to accuse me of drinking too much or messing with drugs." He kissed the top of her head. "I don't mess with drugs, Lucy."

"That's a relief." She snuggled closer to him. "But you should still see a doctor."

"Yeah," he agreed. "I'll think about it."

"Think hard. More coffee?"

He handed her his cup and watched her walk to the kitchen. She had a nice walk. 

She turned quickly. "Are you checking me out?"

"Caught me," he laughed.

"See anything you like?"

"Mmmm."

"Is that a yes?" she asked as she handed him his coffee and sat back down beside him.

Rob set his mug down on the coffee table, then reached for hers and set hers down, too. "That's a yes," he said softly, brushing his nose against hers. "That's a big yes."

In one swift movement, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her body down underneath his. She squealed.

"Oh! Now that's a new one. Do you squeal like that for all the boys?"

Lucy wiggled beneath him. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

He leaned forward and pressed his lips softly against hers. "No," he whispered. Using his tongue, he gently opened her lips, touching her tongue with his. He heard a soft moan come from her. "I want to make you scream, Lucy," he said quietly against her mouth.

"No-" she moaned. "No, Rob, I can't."

"You can."

With one hand, he unzipped her jeans, pushed them past her knees. He slipped his toes inside them, pulling them the rest of the way off. She wore no panties. "Lucy," he murmured. "You shaved just for me?"

"Just for you," she moaned again as Rob slipped a finger inside of her. "Oh, Jesus."

"You like that, baby? Tell me. Tell me you like that."

"I like that."

"How much do you like that?"

"I...like...that...a...lot!"

"More than this?" He slipped a second finger into her.

"No." It was a soft cry against his chest.

"You like that more?"

She nodded.

"Tell me. I want to hear you say it."

"Yes." It was a soft scream.

He started to move his fingers gently in and out, moving slightly faster with each thrust.

She raised her hips and, grabbing him by the neck, pulled him down to her. Her hands struggled with the zipper on his jeans. She fought to get them down and set him free. Once she had him in her hand, she moved her hips until she could slide him inside of her.

"No, baby, no, not yet."

"Yes," she cried, forcing his fingers out of her and replacing them with his cock. "Yes, yes, yes!" She wrapped her legs around him, bucking like a young filly until she felt her own orgasm coming.  She held him inside of her, moving with him until she sensed him tense up, then she let go and joined him in the release.

This time it was Rob's turn to scream.

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