Two-Dollar Bill

'Bad sex is an oxymoron.'

'Surely you've had bad sex at some time.'

'Not that I can recall.'

'You're getting smaller, I can feel it.'

'You're distracting me.'

She reached behind her and took his testicles in her hand. 'Is this distracting?'

'Not in the least.' He thrust again.

'I see I've got your undivided attention.'

'You have.'

'So, can we discuss my idea now?'

Stone thrust again.

'Now you're trying to distract me.'

'Is it working?'

'Sort of.'

'Then concentrate on the task at hand.'

'You think of this as a task?' she said.

'I was speaking figuratively.'

'You like my figure, then?'

'Oh, yeah.'

She bent over him and swung her breasts across his lips. 'Have some.'

He caught a nipple and gently bit it.

'What were we talking about?' she asked.

Stone thrust again. 'Coming.'

She increased her tempo. 'Now?'

'Yes, oh, yes!'

'Me, too!'

They both made noises for a little while, then she rolled over and lay beside him. 'Now can we talk about my idea?'

'Talk?' Stone panted. 'I can't even move my lips.'

'You don't need to; I've seen to that.'

He took a deep breath and expelled it. 'Okay, what's your idea?'

'My idea is that you should tell me everything you know about the CIA's investigation of Peep… Billy Bob.'

'Have you had much experience with the CIA?' he asked.

'Not really.'

'Then you can't tell me what they'd do to me, if I told you about their investigation?'

'Not exactly.'

'Well, I think before we discuss your idea further, I should know what the consequences might be. I mean, there's a full range of possibilities, considering the way my contract reads. They could shoot me; they could torture me; they could put me in an airplane and kick me out over the ocean.'

'They wouldn't do that to you.'

'You've just admitted that you've had little experience with them. How do you know what they might do?'

She kissed him on a nipple. 'Well, whatever they did to you, it would be worth it.'

'Worth it to you, you mean?'

'Well, yes.'

'So you'd sacrifice me to further your career?'

'Of course. I'm an ambitious woman.'

'God save me from ambitious women.'

'Come on, Stone, I want to know why they're interested in a con man and thief.'

'Maybe they want to hire him.'

'I wouldn't put it past them, but I think it's more than that.'

'What reason do you have for thinking it's more than that?'

'Now you're trying to pump me for information,' she said, slapping him on the belly.

'Isn't that what you're doing to me?'

'Well, yes, but I'm the girl; it's my job.'

'How'd you ever get out of Harvard Law with reasoning like that?'

'How about if I tempt you sexually?'

'I think you've just removed sexual temptation from the equation, considering my current state.'

'I'll bet I could get you going again.'

'You're trying to kill me, aren't you? Are you working for the CIA?'

The phone rang. Stone looked at his bedside clock: a little past two a.m. 'That's gotta be Lance,' he muttered, picking up the phone. 'Hello?'

'Hi, there, Stone.'

'Billy Bob?'

'Sometimes.'

'Your accent is slipping.'

'Well, we don't need that anymore, do we?'

'Why do you always call in the middle of the night? You aren't in Hawaii this time.' He looked at the caller ID screen on his phone: a 917 number, a New York cell phone.

'Because in the middle of the night, I know where to find you. I hope I'm not interrupting anything.'

'My sleep.'

'Oh, come on, Stone; you're not sleeping, not with the lovely U.S. Attorney in your bed.'

Stone sat up and began looking for a pen. He found one and jotted down the calling number.

'What is he saying?' Tiff asked, trying to listen in on the call.

'Have you been following me, Billy Bob?'

'Well, someone has, obviously. How else would I know Ms. Baldwin is in bed with you?'

Stone found the thought disturbing. 'Listen, can we drop this Billy Bob stuff? What's your name?'

'What? You expect me to tell you my real name, so you can use it to track me down? Tell you what: You tell me what you're doing messing with the CIA, and I'll tell you my real name.'

'I'm a consultant to them,' Stone replied. 'Now, what's your real name?'

'Well, I don't guess it can hurt. The name I was born with is Harlan Wilson.'

'When did you stop using it?'

'Right after I got out of the army,' he replied.

'How long ago was that?'

'Oh, the CIA can tell you that.'

'They don't talk to me all that much.'

'Sure, they do. You talk all the time. Why, you were at my wife's apartment with them this afternoon, weren't you?'

'How many wives do you have, Harlan?'

'Don't call me that; I prefer Billy Bob.'

'The waiters at Elaine's call you Two-Dollar Bill.'

Billy Bob laughed. 'I like that.'

'Where'd you get the two-dollar bills, Billy Bob?'

'I bought 'em at a nice discount from a fella I know.'

'The same fella that stole them from Fort Dix and murdered two army officers?'

Silence. 'I'm getting bored with this conversation,' Billy Bob said.

'Oh, you didn't know about the robbery? Surely, you didn't think you could buy money at a discount, unless it was hot.'

Silence. Then he hung up.

Stone replaced the receiver.