Claire LaZebnik - Knitting Under the Influence

“No, it's fine,” she said.

“All right, then. The apartment's yours if you want it. We can go see it now if you like.”

“I want it,” Kathleen said. “I don't even need to see it to know I want it.” She pushed her empty plate away, leaned far back in her chair, and stretched. “So,” she said. “Now that I’ve got a place to live, I need a job. Got any ideas?”

“You know,” he said, “I just might.”

While Kathleen was getting herself an apartment, Lucy was getting herself laid.

Right there, on the lab table, just feet away from the stinky paper-lined cages where the rats chattered and squeaked and ate and shat constantly.

She wasn't planning on having sex when she first headed into work late that afternoon. She was working on a grant proposal, and a lot of the information she needed was in the lab, so she figured she'd just take her laptop and write there. She had left a message for James letting him know that's where she'd be, and he called her back just as she was walking into the building to say, “I’ll meet you there with a bottle of wine in an hour-what goes well with rat, red or white?” and so she was smiling as she flipped her phone shut and didn't even hear David coming up the steps behind her until he said, “Hey, world, Lucy Cameron's smiling. This has got to be a first.”

She spun around.

“Jesus,” she said. “You scared me.”

“Imagine how I felt. Seeing you smile. Must be awfully cold in hell right about now.”

“You're so funny,” Lucy said. “You're just so incredibly funny, David. Has anyone ever told you how funny you are?”

“Frequently,” he said. “But I never get tired of hearing it.”

“Just too funny for words,” she said. They had reached the front door of their building. She waited, and he reached forward and opened the door for her, then gestured her through with an exaggeratedly gallant arm sweep. She walked through and kept going.

“But you were smiling,” David said, scuttling to catch up with her. He was a small guy and his legs were shorter than hers.

“Was I?” Lucy said. “I must have been thinking about how nice it was going to be to have the lab all to myself. Have you noticed the smile's gone since you showed up?”

“Yeah, I noticed.” He hunched into himself as they walked down the hallway, and she wondered if she had genuinely hurt his feelings. Not that she cared. She was annoyed at him for being there. As lab partners went, he was a decent one and she didn't really have anything against him, but just by showing up he was going to ruin her romantic evening with James.

“Why are you here, anyway?” Lucy said as he unlocked the door to their lab and held it open for her. “It's Sunday.”

“Picking up my laptop-I left it here last night.”

“You were here last night?”

“Yeah.” He shut the door behind them. “I had some writing to do and it's quieter here than anywhere else. My roommate had some kind of stomach bug and kept barfing in our toilet. I had to get out.”

“Still,” she said. “Saturday night, David? No parties? No nightclubs? You're ruining my image of you as a wild party animal.”

“Shut up,” he said. “What were you doing that was so wild and crazy?”

“Knitting and watching TV.”

“Woo-hoo,” he said. “Your life is just as exciting as mine. So where was our friend James that you were at home alone on a Saturday night?”

“Our friend James leads his own life. We're not joined at the hip.”

“That's not what I’ve heard.” He made his eyebrows go up and down.

“Oh, now that one's clever,” she said. “You should write that one down.”

He went to his desk. “Good. The laptop's still here. My entire identity is on that hard drive. Without it, I’m nothing.”

“Glad you found it then,” Lucy said, pulling out her own chair and sitting down. “Don't let the door hit you on the way out.”

“Oh, am I leaving?”

“You don't have to on my account,” she said. “But it's a beautiful day. You should be taking advantage of the sunlight before it's all gone.”

He squinted at her. “Why do I get the feeling you want me out of here? What are you planning, Lucy?”

“Nothing.” Lucy shrugged and opened a book. “Stay or go. I don't care.”

“Don't worry.” He thrust his computer into its carrying case. “I’m leaving. I can't stand the way the rats are looking at me tonight-like they know their hours are numbered.”

“Oh, right,” Lucy said. “Tomorrow's Monday.”

“If it's Monday, it must be rat-killing day. And they say there are no good jobs left in America.” He turned to the cages. “Goodbye, my friends. Enjoy your last meal in peace. Have sex, get drunk, say goodbye to the kids-do whatever needs to be done, knowing that tomorrow morning you will be sacrificing your lives for the greater good.”

“That would be our greater good, not theirs,” Lucy said.

“Shh,” David said. “Don't tell them that. I had them feeling all good and martyr-y about things. They'll be dreaming of little rat virgins in heaven tonight.”

“Just say goodbye to the rats and go, will you?”

“I’m gone. I’ll see you bright and early maÑana, Luce.”

“Bye.” He left, and she breathed a sigh of relief. So she and James would have the lab to themselves after all.

James was later than he said. He was always later than he said, but he always arrived with such a flurry of noise and energy that it was impossible to stay angry at him. He had also forgotten the wine, but when Lucy pointed that out, he said he figured instead of having wine there, they'd go out for a nice dinner as soon as-

“As soon as what?” she said when he paused, and he got that grin on his face, like he had heard a joke no one else had heard, and it was the wickedest joke anyone had ever told. And then he was on her like they hadn't had sex in days-which they hadn't, because he had been out of town at a conference where he was lecturing on adrenal insufficiency in rats with the JRL mutation and its implications for humans with Addison's disease-and she was resisting a little, laughing, and only a little and only because resisting made it more fun, meant he had to work a little harder to get her where he wanted her, which, as it turned out, was down on her back on her own desk, books and papers and computer shoved aside, just a couple of pencils left digging into her shoulders, her legs dangling off the desk, James standing between her thighs, busily working on the snap to her jeans and-

“Wait,” she said, pushing herself up on her elbows. “Lock the door.”

“Why?” he said. “You expecting company? It's Sunday.”

“David was here earlier. You never know.”

“The more the merrier,” he said, but he moved away and locked the door and by the time he was back she had not only unsnapped her snap for him but also unzipped her zipper, and it was clear that the resistance she had put up had been entirely for show, and that she was completely and entirely willing. The grin returned to James's face. His pants came down even more quickly than hers and he was nudging her thighs apart with his own before she had even settled back down in place.

“Go ahead,” James whispered in her ear at one point. “Make noise. You know you want to.”

She was able to gasp out the words, “Don't. Tell me. What I want.” But he was right-James was always right-and soon after that she had reached a place where even the fact that she could be overheard by someone walking down the hallway wasn't a sobering enough thought to control the moan of pleasure escaping from her lips.

As if in response, there was a sudden loud squeal from the other side of the room, which was soon followed by a chorus of squeaks and chatters.