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crossed the street to follow.
    The man had just opened the inner door when Barbara caught up with him. They entered together and headed for the elevator, Barbara just a little behind him. Their silence continued on the ascent, as if they were strangers. He stared indifferently at the door, his face obscured by the bill of his baseball cap. Barbara stood against an adjacent wall and stared at him. The elevator stopped and he stepped off, turning sharply to the right. She followed him. He opened the door of one of three apartments at this end of the hallway. He held the door open for her, finally acknowledging her presence. She went in.
    Barbara felt a rush of excitement, tinged with fear. She waited by the door as he entered the room to his left and switched on a light. He turned to face her, and a slow smile spread over his handsome features. The sexy quirk of his mouth, the challenge in his eyes flooded Barbara with unadulterated desire. Mario was definitely the wrong man for her, except in one way. But too many bad experiences had shown Barbara that there simply weren’t enough of the right kind to go around.
    “Whose place is this?” Barbara asked, carefully keeping her emotions in check.
    He took off his hat and began to work on his coat, staring at her all the while. Using just his fingertips, he pulled a gun from beneath his sweater and held it out for her to see. With a slight motion Mario released the cartridge clip and dropped it onto a chair.
    “Friend of a friend. She’s cool. Better yet”—his grin widened—“she ain’t here. Somebody died and she went home to the Dominican Republic. We’re home alone.” He laughed.
    Barbara accepted the explanation and began to ease out of her own coat. She let Mario see that she was strapped, too, but she had no intention of unloading.
    Boldly Mario began to undress right there. Barbara’s mouth went dry, and her heart fluttered. She was wet between her legs. She stared unabashed and unblinking until he stood there naked, with a full erection.
    Mario clearly enjoyed her reaction to what he had to offer. Barbara could no longer hide her need to have him bury himself deep inside her.
    But she couldn’t get undressed holding her weapon. Seeing her dilemma, Mario chuckled seductively. “Don’t worry. The only gun I’m gonna use to shoot with is this.” He shook his penis at her.
    Barbara set her gun on a table, out of his reach. She took off her clothes. Finally they both stood naked. Barbara’s chest rose and fell with her breathing, her breasts quivered, her nipples were tender and distended. Mario’s gaze became slumberous with lust.
    “Que chula tu es, mami,” Mario growled at her, continuing a guttural recital in Spanish of what he wanted to do to her. They came together with a physical heat that was more combative than it was loving. Their mouths locked in carnal need.
    Barbara let her hands slide over Mario’s firm, well-proportioned body. She enjoyed the taut male sinew in his back, his shoulders, his buttocks. He flicked his hips against her, making his ultimate intention obvious. In contrast, his kiss was almost tender, achingly slow. His hands spread over her back, cupping her butt and holding her still while he did a steady, slow grind against her.
    Barbara felt like she was suffocating. Burning up. Moisture gathered on their skin where their bodies pressed together. She finally pulled her mouth free and gasped, so dizzy with craving that a whimper rose in the back of her throat.
    “Aiyeee, goñyo,” she hissed urgently.
    “Quidado, mami,” Mario whispered against her neck, continuing to rotate his hips. He gave a snort of amusement. “See… you thought I tried to fuck you over, right? I’m here, ain’t I? You could arrest me right now if you wanted to…”
    “Shut up, Mario,” Barbara snapped in a burst of anger even as she let him maneuver her backward toward the sofa. Just as quickly, her annoyance was gone. “Just do it… do it,”