She sobbed in his arms, crying harder. He wanted to comfort her; he wanted to take her back to his bed. He cuddled her tightly against his chest.

"I don't know what to do now," she said, and she sounded hopeless.

"You are going to stay here." It wasn't a suggestion, it was a fact. He had no intention of letting her go anywhere, other than into his bedroom.

"I don't even have any clothes," she said.

She didn't need clothes for what he had in mind. "I can get you a few things. You'll be safe from your husband here. I don't know, maybe you can talk to the cops or somebody next week and they can help you."

She pulled her head away from his chest and looked at him, taking in what he had said. "I was so glad to see your truck at the station tonight. I knew you would help me. You were always so nice to me."

"I'm not doing this to be nice. I'm doing this because I have wanted you since the first time I ever saw you." It wasn’t a very smooth or romantic thing to say, he thought, after blurting it out. It was the truth, though.

She shifted on his lap as her eyes eagerly studied his face.

He smiled at her. "Do you have any idea of how many times I thought about you? Now you're here, and you're naked in my arms, on my lap. It's like I won the fucking lottery."

She kept looking at him with an eager expression he couldn't understand. Lifting her arms, she reached behind him and took the elastic band out of his hair which he always wore in a ponytail. The unruly mess tumbled against the side of his face and over his shoulders. Joy ran her fingers through it, slowly, her long nails raking through the strands like a comb.

The blanket had slipped down and both of her breasts were fully uncovered in the soft, orange glow of the fire. She didn't seem to notice, or maybe she didn't care, but she just kept stroking his hair. Her hand traced his jaw-line, brushing his beard. She touched him so softly, looking at him like he didn't ever remember seeing a woman look at him.