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one of those motels or something.”
    “No can do. We’re going to have a picnic. You can go pee-pee in the woods.”
    “I need to do number two.”
    “Then we’ll dig a little hole.” I pulled away from the curb. “Just watch out for poison ivy on your ass.”
    I found a quiet spot in the woods with a picnic table
and a view, just the sort of place that a honeymooning couple might stop. And that’s probably what we looked like—New York newlyweds screwing each other’s brains out in cutesy motels before heading back to their designer condo in Chelsea. Well, if that’s what people wanted to think, fine. As long as we didn’t look like a professional bodyguard and a rich kid with a price on his head, it was all good.
    We ate in silence. When Stirling wasn’t making an effort to be obnoxious, we got along just fine. Stuffing his mouth with bread and ham, swigging his coffee, chewing and swallowing, he seemed like a regular guy. A decent haircut and a good scrub to get the crap off his face and he’d be…
    “I want to swim.”
    There was a fair-sized pond beyond the trees, surrounded by boulders that gave easy access to deep, clean water. The idea of a dip after hours on the road was attractive.
    “No.” I balled up the paper bags and swept the crumbs on to the pine needles; the ants could have ’em. “Time to get going.”
    “What’s the big hurry?” He’d already stripped off his shirt; his skin was golden and smooth. “We don’t have to be anywhere in particular, do we?”
    He was right, of course. “We need to keep moving.”
    He kicked off his sandals and unbuttoned his shorts. “I don’t see why. There’s nobody here to see us.” His shorts dropped to the pine needles, and he stepped out of them. All that was left was dazzling white briefs, skin tight.
    “Because I say so.”

    He shrugged, and started tugging at the waistband of his underpants.
    “Okay, that’s enough. If you want to swim, go ahead, but keep those on.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I don’t want us getting arrested. We’re supposed to be staying out of trouble.”
    “Whatever.” He let the elastic ping back against his hips and walked on the balls of his feet over to the rocks. He clambered over, there was a splash and he disappeared.
    Letting him out of my sight was not a good idea—and he was right, there was no particular timetable. The water sure looked inviting. It was a long time since I took my last shower at 109th Street—and even longer since I swam in open water.
    When? With Will, maybe?
    Did we ever go swimming together?
    Of course. A brief flash of moonlight on water, Will’s shoulders breaking the black surface of the sea, brown arms and legs moving in slow circles, our mouths joining, wet and salty…
    Forget that. I screwed up my eyes, shook my head to erase the memory.
    Well, what the hell. I have to keep an eye on him, and it won’t do me any harm to freshen up. I stripped down to my shorts and followed Stirling into the water.
    He was floating on his back. I might as well have saved my breath—his underpants had turned transparent. I muttered, “Jesus,” and slipped in. The water was cold but good.
    I swam out for a hundred yards, then turned in a
big loop. Stirling was still floating, his head back, hair streaming out. His eyes were closed, and the sun sparkled on his wet body.
    I was getting a hard-on. That would have to be got rid of before I got out. For all I knew, this Lolita act was just another way of winding me up; if I laid a finger on him, let alone what was rising in my shorts, he’d scream rape and the game would be over. Another report in the papers, perhaps a spell in jail, and further unemployment.
    I thought about Mom and Grandma and amputations and dead kids—I’m never at a loss for things to make unwanted erections go away.
    When it was safe, I said, “Okay, Water Baby, you’ve had your swim. Let’s go.”
    We climbed out over the boulders. It could have been an accident,