Page 2 of Hot & Heavy

"Pfff! I'm too old for that crap."

"What? Thirty-four is over the hill now? Talk about! You're only five years older than me."

"Five years is forever in lust land, buddy."

"Are you shittin' me? You lost your lust?"

Ian shook his head at the senselessness of their conversation. "No, I haven't lost my lust. I just don't feel the need to boff every willing person with breasts. You and one-night stands have become synonymous, my friend." After you've done it several dozen times, Cage my boy, one-night stands lose their appeal. Believe me, you'll find out… eventually. But he wasn't about to reveal his thoughts to the smirking petty officer. Then he'd have to endure a lengthy grilling about those three dozen babes-of-the-one-night-stand, most of whose names and faces he couldn't recall. Just body parts.

"Me, I'm discriminating." Cage actually looked affronted.

Ian laughed.

"Just 'cause a chicken has wings doan mean it can fly."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Appearances can be deceiving."

Ian laughed again.

"Well, okay, there was that Russian chick, but who knew how potent vodka could be? And besides, I was tryin' to pump info from her."

"More like hump." They both laughed.

"What you need in your life are more meaningful one-night relationships," Cage advised.

"What I need is for you not to give me sex advice. Besides, 'meaningful one-night stand' is an oxymoron, if you must know."

"You callin' me a moron?" Cage ducked when Ian threw a crumpled wad of paper at him.

"What are you two talkin' about?" Pretty Boy asked as he came into the room. Lieutenant (jg) Zach Floyd, a former race car driver, had earned the nickname Pretty Boy because he was, frankly, pretty…

even with the black eye he was sporting today. Prettiness aside, Floyd would be their radio operator on this mission. There wasn't anything the Florida native didn't know about machinery.

"Sex," Cage answered Pretty Boy before Ian could stop him. "That's what we were talkin' about."

Ian put his face in his hands briefly, knowing what would come next.

"What else is new?" Pretty Boy waggled his eyebrows in a manner that probably made women melt. It did nothing for Ian.

"In particular, the lieutenant's loss of lust, bless his heart."

Both men turned to look at Ian then, their eyes on his crotch. The clowns!

"Since you love those stupid motivational sayings," Pretty Boy said with a twinkle in his blue eyes, "here's one for you. 'Sex is like a misdemeanor. The more you miss it, the meaner you get.' And, man, you are one mean sonofabitch lately."

Cage groaned. "I doan think I can take two teammates quoting corny proverbs."

"You can tell by his skin whether a guy is getting any," Pretty Boy announced with seeming irrelevance, disregarding Cage's remark.

Pretty Boy sure does have a running mouth today. Probably nervousness over this mission from hell.

"And our squad leader is looking mighty pale these days."

Yep, a real blabbermouth!

"Is that really true… that you can tell whether someone is sexually active by their skin tone?" asked Geek, who'd come in while they were talking. Merrill "Geek" Good was twenty-four years old but looked fourteen. He was a genius, having received his doctorate at age eighteen, but he knew zip about sex.