Mark was aghast at how much carnage one sprinkler head could cause. In the time it took him and Liz to throw on dripping terrycloth robes, it flooded the bathroom, most of the bedroom, and was seeping into the living room. A minute later the management arrived. They determined it wasn't an actual fire and shut off both the sprinkler and the fire alarm, but that didn't stop three firefighters and a pair of cops from bursting through the door. Even though Mark swore it was an accident, the cops looked at them as if they were the reincarnation of Bonnie and Clyde, then started throwing around words like "vandalism" and "malicious mischief" and "criminal intent."

Mark couldn't believe it. Criminal intent?

Apparently this kind of thing had happened at this hotel before, only it had been a very expensive prank by a couple of teenagers, and their parents had paid the price. Mark told them he'd never pulled any kind of prank, even when he was a kid. Then he thought about the tire thing. But that wasn't really vandalism, right? That was Liz coming up with an evil but brilliant plan. He only hoped they never found out about her history of juvenile delinquency, or they'd toss both of them in jail and throw away the key.

But eventually the hotel manager believed them when they said it really was an accident. Because the damage wasn't that extensive and it would be taken care of by insurance, they wouldn't be filing charges. However, he did suggest that perhaps it would be best if sir and madam found other accommodations for the night.

Mark and Liz had no choice but to put their newly-doused clothes back on, reminding him just what a miserable experience it was to walk around wet. A few minutes later they were sitting on monogrammed Cavanaugh Hotel towels in the back of another Uber car. Since it was almost eleven o'clock and Bible study would have ended long ago, they decided just to give up and go back to Liz's apartment.

"How much did they hit you up for the towels?" Liz asked.

"Sixty bucks apiece."

Liz winced. "My God. Every bath towel I own combined didn't cost that much."

Mark figured he could probably throw in his hand towels and kitchen towels and still not hit a hundred and twenty bucks.

"I still don't get how hanging my jeans on that thing made it go off," Liz said.

"There's a little vial of liquid inside the sprinkler head. It bursts and sets it off when it gets hot from a fire."

"Or when you hang something heavy on it?"

Mark sighed. "Uh huh."

"I'm sorry," Liz murmured. "I'm so, so sorry."

"No! It's not your fault. It was perfectly fine until I jerked the jeans down."

"Still, if I hadn't hung them up there—"

"Hey, if I hadn't dropped my keys down the storm drain at my apartment, we never would have ended up there in the first place."

"If my roommate wasn't trying to seduce Bible Boy, we never would have ended up at your apartment."

"That's okay," Mark said. "Bad things make really good stories, right?"

Liz's glum expression eased into a smile. "You know what? You're right. And we're going to have the best story ever." Liz slid her hand over his and rested her head on his shoulder. "And once we get out of these wet clothes, we'll make sure this story has a happy ending."

A few minutes later they were walking up the stairs to Liz's apartment. Mark felt a little less peppy than he had the first time they'd climbed these stairs that evening, but he was determined this night was going to end far better than it began. All he wanted to do was get under the covers with Liz and make love to her until neither of them could move another muscle, and he didn't give a damn where it happened. She unlocked the door to her apartment and swung it open. Mark took one look at the living room and froze.

Once again, they weren't alone.

Just like last time, Sherri was on the sofa with Kevin, but their vertical position had become horizontal. Their Bibles were lying haphazardly on the coffee table.

And they were naked.

Sherri grabbed for the afghan draped over the back of the sofa and yanked it over them. "What are you guys doing back here? I thought you were staying at Mark's!"

Liz's fists rose to her hips. "And we thought you were worshipping the Lord."

"Yeah," Sherri said, sitting up, "turns out neither of us are all that holy. Kevin read the same article on DatingTips.com that I did."

"After the old people left, I thought it was kinda fishy when she started reading Song of Solomon. Out loud." Kevin grinned at Sherri. "I had no idea the Bible was so hot."

Mark turned to Liz. "What now?"

"They're going to her bedroom, and we're going to mine."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Wait a minute," Sherri said. "Why are you guys wet? It quit raining an hour ago."

"Tomorrow," Liz said. "We'll tell you about it tomorrow."

Sherri grinned. "Will you also be giving me my five bucks tomorrow?"

"Good night, Sherri."

Mark had no idea what five dollars had to do with anything, but when Liz took his hand and led him into her bedroom, suddenly he forgot all about it. She peeled off her T-shirt for the third time that night, giving him a full view of the bra he'd only glimpsed before. It was red and lacy, cradling her breasts with the kind of care they absolutely deserved.

"Get moving, buster," she said. "If you're not out of your clothes before I'm out of mine, I'm ripping them off you."

Mark came to life, unfastening his shirt buttons faster than he ever had before, then the cuffs. He peeled off his damp shirt and threw it aside, then undid his belt and unzipped his pants. Liz was trying to wiggle out of her jeans, but it was slow going. Inch by inch she shoved them down, revealing panties that matched her bra—red, lacy, and begging to be taken off.

She finally pulled her jeans off about the time he was slinging his pants aside, and they came together in a fiery clash of hands and lips and bottled-up desire. After several deep, drugging kisses, Mark slid his hands beneath those hot little panties and cupped her ass. When he gave it a squeeze and pulled her against him, she moaned against his mouth and slid her hand right down inside his boxers. The instant she wrapped her hand around him, his breath came so hard and fast it sounded as if he was having an asthma attack.

"Now," she said on a gaspy breath. "Gotta do it now."

"Thank God. Where's the sack?”

“Sack?”

“From Dildeaux.”

Liz froze, her hand stilling. "You don't have it?"

"Me? No. I didn't pick it up."

She yanked her hand out of his boxers. "Are you sure?"

"Yes! I'm sure! I thought you—"

"I thought you—!"

They stared at each other a long time, each of them trying desperately to reach any other conclusion. They couldn't.

"It's still in the hotel room," Mark said. "We left it in the hotel room!"

They stood there a moment longer in astonished disbelief. Then slowly they walked to the bed and sat down, him in those damned purple boxers and her in those amazing red undies, and Mark was absolutely sure that the universe itself was conspiring against them.

"So what are sir and madam supposed to do now?" Liz asked.

"Well, we're not going to be glowing in the dark anytime soon, that's for sure."

"This coitus interruptus thing is getting out of hand. And not only that, I'm down five bucks. I bet Sherri she couldn't get Kevin into bed. My luck really stinks tonight."

"Which makes the story that much better, right?"

Liz's glum expression slowly melted, giving way to a smile. "Well, if I had my way it would have had a happy ending, but you know what? It's still the best story ever." She leaned in and kissed him. "And there's always tomorrow."

She was right. Tomorrows with Liz would always be more important than any one night could possibly be. But even though he wholeheartedly believed that, when he thought about Sherri and Kevin, he couldn't help feeling a little irritated. They were the reason he and Liz had ended up in this mess in the first place, yet they were in Sherri's bedroom at that moment, going at it. Kevin probably hadn't forgotten his condoms.

Wait a minute. Kevin? Condoms?

Mark turned that thought over in his mind, feeling a rush of hope. Maybe this story wasn't over after all.

He leaped up and headed for the bedroom door.

"Mark? Where are you going?"

"To talk to Kevin. Stay put. I'll be back in a sec."

Mark stepped out of Liz's room into the hall and closed the door behind him. He walked through the darkened living room. He collided with something—the coffee table?—and banged the hell out of his leg. He sucked in a breath, walked it off, then moved on, stopping when he reached Sherri's door. Yes, they might be in the midst of wild orgasmic sex, and no, he wasn't the kind of guy to go begging. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

He knocked on the door. He heard a little commotion inside the room, and then the door opened. Sherri stuck her head out, her face flushed. "Mark? What?"

"I need to talk to Kevin."

"He's busy."

"Ten seconds. That's all I need."

"Go away."

"No! Don't close the door! I need his help!"

Sherri gave Mark one last glaring look. Then her face disappeared, replaced by Kevin's.

"Hey, bro," he said. Then his gaze dropped a few feet south. "Uh…nice boxers."

Mark was beyond caring about those. As if standing in front of another man wearing bright purple boxers was remotely humiliating after what he'd been through that night?

"They're Roland LaRouche," he deadpanned. "You know. For the man who wants to pamper his junk."

"Yeah? I usually just stick to Fruit of the Looms."

Which was exactly what Mark intended to do from now on.

"I need a favor," Mark said. "Don't suppose you have an extra condom, do you?"

"Oh, wow. Got caught short, huh?"

"Yeah. I got caught short. So do you have one or not?"

"Sure, dude. I always have a few on deck. Hold on."

Mark exhaled with relief. Kevin disappeared for a moment, then came back to the door. "It's one of those extra strength ones. Can't be too careful, you know. And it's eco-friendly. The planet and all that."

Mark took the condom. "Yeah, I'm familiar with those."

"Kevin!" Sherri called out. "Get back here!"

Kevin grinned. "Duty calls," he said, and shut the door.

Holding the condom packet as if it was a priceless artifact, Mark turned around and walked back to Liz's bedroom, banging his other leg on the same table as before. He stifled a few curse words and kept on walking. When he reached the bedroom door, he saw no light beneath it and wondered what was going on. When he opened it, he was surprised to see Liz with her back to him, looking out the window, the moonlight casting her beautiful body in silhouette.

"Liz?"

She glanced over her shoulder. "I was just looking at the moon."

He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. "It's pretty."

"It's only half full tonight," she said quietly. "It won't be long before it's full."

"Uh huh," he said, kissing the side of her neck. "Happens once a month."

She turned in his arms and looked up at him, her gaze wandering over his face as if she was searching for something.

"What?" he said.

"I have a feeling this full moon is going to be special."

She stroked her fingertips along his cheek, then moved them upward to brush a lock of hair away from his forehead, her eyes glinting softly in the dim light. Then he held up the condom, and she sighed rapturously.

"Turns out Bible Boy is a responsible guy," Mark said. "And this one is extra strength. Eco-friendly."

"Well, there is Mother Earth to think about."

"There's only one thing I'm thinking about right now."

What happened next was a blur—a thrilling, euphoric, ecstatic blur that was ten times better than Mark could possibly have imagined. Something about the near-darkness and the moonlight transformed their frantic need into a slower, dreamier experience that seemed to draw out each moment into an endless flood of pure pleasure. Liz was all tempting curves and soft, silky skin, alternately funny and passionate, playful and inventive. She treated his body like a playground she couldn't get enough of, coaxing him to tell her exactly what he wanted and then delivering it in a way that made every nerve in his body feel as if it had been zapped by lightning. And with her hands and her words and her shudders and sighs, she told him how to make lightning strike her, too.

It seemed as if hours passed before Mark finally grabbed the condom and put it on, his hands shaking with anticipation. When he slid inside her, the feeling was so intense that he squeezed his eyes closed and held his breath, hoping he didn't lose it right there. When he opened them again, he saw her beautiful green eyes staring up at him. As their gazes locked and he began to move inside her, he had the most amazing feeling that they weren't just having sex.

They were making love.

Heat rippled through him, then shifted to a hard pulsing energy, and when he finally plunged over the edge, Liz's moans of pleasure told him she was right there with him. They slowly spiraled back to earth, her arms wrapped around him and her breath hot against his neck. He held onto her until the last tremors faded, then slid away and fell to his back. Sighing with contentment, he pulled Liz into his arms.

Neither of them said a word. They simply lay together in satisfied exhaustion, bathed in the light of the half moon whispering through the window. A moment later Mark heard her rhythmic breathing and realized she'd drifted off to sleep.

It's worth the story.

That was the way Liz lived her life. The good things were great and the bad things were even better, once she put the proper spin on them. If he'd been with Gwen tonight and all this had happened, it would have been excruciating. But Liz was free and easy and uninhibited in a way he'd never been himself. If life handed her lemons, she didn't just make lemonade. She made big, fat lemon merengue pies. Deep down he'd always wondered what it would feel like to be that kind of person, and now that he'd had a taste of it, he never wanted to be without it again.

Without her again.

He smiled to himself. In spite of everything, this really had been one of the best nights of his life.