Free A Trashy Affair by Lynn Shurr

avoid the hand-hewn beams left showing between the slabs of the new insulated ceiling. As below, the floor had been redone and decorated in this case with oval rag rugs. A couple of cowhide chairs and a small flea market table sat near a tiny window. Two lanterns hung from the central beam, but came on with the snap of a switch rather than a strike of a match. On this fairly warm afternoon, the central air conditioning blew gently across the space big as the four original rooms below but narrowed by the slanting rafters.
    Merlin lay down, put his feet up on the footboard of the bed, and his hands behind his head. “I can see me here and Doyle on that trundle just listening to the summer rain beat on the tin roof. You ever been up here when it rains?”
    “No, but I do hope you are comfortable there.”
    “Hey, my shoes are clean. The best, most soothing sound in the world. I used to dream about Louisiana rain when I was overseas.” His eyes closed.
    Jane ventured closer from the middle of the room where standing presented no problem. “Merlin, we shouldn’t leave your granny alone downstairs.”
    “Sure, help me up.”
    She should have seen it coming but still offered her hand. He used his much superior strength to lever her on top of him.
    “Did you wear those green panties for me last night?”
    “Certainly not! They matched my dress, that’s all.” She braced her arms on his chest and pushed up slightly bumping her head on a beam.
    “Sure, I know how important it is to match your dress and panties when no one is going to see it. Why hell, I pick my boxer briefs in the same color as my eyes.” A grin pushed at the corner of his mouth trying to expand.
    “It matters to women!” she protested, absolutely sure no fabric could ever duplicate that stunning shade of blue, but she wasn’t going to ask him to show her.
    He brought her face down to meet his. The kiss began with a flick of his tongue across her lips still a little sticky from the syrup in the pie. He coaxed his way inside her mouth, all the while raking her hair with his fingertips. She answered him stroke for stroke despite the rasp of his beard against her skin until they ran out of air. Surrendering, Jane collapsed against the hardness of his body.
    “Tasty,” he said, mimicking his grandmother. “You know why they put the Cajun boys in the attic? So they could go out, carouse, and sow their wild oats without disturbing the rest of the family.”
    “Out is the operative word. I doubt if those boys did any sowing right over their granny’s head—which we are doing at the moment.”
    “No, we’re not. Listen.”
    The unmistakable thump-step of the walker progressed across the boards of the porch right to the bottom of the steps. “What she got up there, Merlin, a bed?” Miss Olive shouted in her cracked old lady voice.
    “Yep, a real fancy one, and a john, too. I’m going to use it, then be right down.”
    But Jane got to the bathroom first to finger comb her hair and make sure her lipstick wasn’t all over her face. No lipstick problem. He’d licked it all off, damn him! But her lips glowed red from passionate contact and her chin bore a small pink patch from his stubble. She dabbed the beard burn with a cold, wet tissue. Not much help. Tucking the tails of her yellow silk shirt back into her black, tailored slacks and making sure all the buttons were closed, she turned the small space over to Merlin, ducking under his arms when he would have caged her inside with him. She rushed down the stairs to find Miss Olive rocking in the porch swing and took a seat beside her.
    “Sorry we took so long. He was very interested in everything up there.”
    “I bet he was. Not to worry. My grandson ain’t taken much interest in women since he come back from the war this last time. That’s not good for a young man. First time over there, he seemed okay, not now.”
    Merlin’s heavy steps on the stairs alerted them. “Not talking about me, I