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“Something never meant to be
Everything you meant to me
Wake me when this punishment is done
Those who try and get away
From the one who gets away
Someone’s always someone else’s one”

                                Foo Fighters, The One

                It’s like kissing your sister, or your mother. I mean, I know Slate’s a woman. And a very, very attractive woman. But still. She’s, she’s Slate. I mean, she’s . . . No, that’s not right. I don’t care how you cut it, that’s not right.

                And evidently, my face shows it.

                Slate leans back from me, uncertainty in her eyes. My face must really look weird because she looks somewhere between confused and angry and hurt. And I can’t say I blame her, per say. But I’m still trying to figure out where that came from.

                “What was that for?” I manage to get out, touching my lips. I feel the strange desire to burn them.

                “Sam, you and I are the last people on earth.” She says, undoing the buttons on her military fatigues.

                “Um . . .” There’s a woman in front of me taking her shirt off. What else can I say?

                “I mean, we’re dead.” She shrugs acceptingly. “Seriously, we’re done for. There’s no food. No water. No way out. And nowhere to go even if we could get out.” And she drops her hands, her heavy military shirt hanging partially open.

                Apparently, she prefers black.

                “Okay.” I finally say with some coherency, having to turn away to keep from losing all rational thought. This woman has spent most of her adult life living in a gym. Super models don’t have bodies that good. “Look, now really isn’t the time.”

                “Time’s all we’ve got.” She says. And I can hear her unsnapping the buttons on her pants.

I summon up every ounce of strength I have not to look.

                “Slate.” I say as clearly as I can, still staring determinedly off in some random direction. I don’t even know what I’m staring at. “We can get through this. We can find a way to survive, a way to get out of this place.”

                “The base, maybe.” I hear her say. I hear the sound of fabric crumpling to the ground. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her standing back up. Son of a bitch, it was her pants. Damn it, she’s really not making this easy. “But we can’t get anywhere after that.”

                “There’s always another . . .” I start. And then, the pain hits me. Like getting kicked in the face, I wince and nearly loose my balance. Whatever it is, it just brought my brain to a complete freeze. I feel Slate grab my shoulders and help me down to the floor. I hold my head as the searing pain begins to subside just a bit, my head aching.

                When the pain is gone enough for me to open my eyes to see, all I see before me is Slate. Kneeling patiently, she’s wearing nothing but the black bra. And I do mean nothing else. I only check once to make sure, then lock my eyes on her face. “You and me.” She says with a sad smile. “I guess we’re sort of like Adam and Eve. Only we’re not going to live long enough to be expelled from paradise.”

                “Slate . . .” I say.

                “You’re the last man on earth.” She says, sitting forward, draping her arms on my shoulders. “That’s the only way I’d ever sleep with you.”

                I scramble to think as she moves in to kiss me. “Your period.” I say. She leans back just a bit, my head kept in her arms. “Aren’t you on your . . .”

                “It stopped.” She says sweetly, leaning in to kiss my neck.

                “But it just started yesterday or the day before.” I say.

                I feel her lips. God, they’re soft.

                “The time distortion, remember. Time moves differently.” She says between kisses, her breath raising the hairs on the back of my neck. Among other things.

                “But,” I say, taking her hands from behind my neck, pulling away from her kisses. “But, I was with you the whole time.” I say. “While we were . . .”

                And then the pain hits again. The searing, stabbing agony. I throw myself onto the ground, my entire bucking like I’m having a seizure. I feel my muscles spasm, my arms and legs slamming against the ground as I flail.

                Slowly, the pain subsides. The burning agony crests back like the tide going out. Very slowly, I regain control of my body and my mind. I roll over from where I’m laying and look up at Slate. She’s sitting over me, still only in her bra. “You okay?” She asks with a mix of seduction and maternal concern.

                I stare at her for a moment, then look at the world around me. “Something’s not right.” I whisper.

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