Gluey tendrils of dried spit are pasted to the roof of your mouth. He takes up a remote, presses a button. The bed hums, your head and shoulders smoot...ly elevate to some near approximation of a sitting position. He takes a glass of ice water, holds it close enough to your head so you can feel its coldness, drizzles a few droplets on your parched lips. You lick up the icy drops and it feels sooo good. He takes his fingers away, puts down the glass he’s had his fingers in, picks up a fresh one,. " I smiled. "Just don't whinetoo much when you cry on my shoulder. I hate whining." All right, girl friend, I won't whine - too much. Are we going back inthe pod tonight?"I shook my head. "We're too drunk, well, I am anyway. We'll do it inthe morning. I figure about five more brief stops to care for the newplants and we're there."***Blue flashing alarms brought me from slumber. As sentience returned, Iremembered who I was and the woman on top. Our eyes met as we had donemany times before, but. More

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