His words did what they had once been able to do, bringing her to excitement and arousal. It shattered her doubt, and each phrase brought back the memories of the night before. That dream she had woken up from, which she could hardly remember, had been a part of it.
He was concluding a recollection of the second time that forgotten evening, "And all the while, you kept moaning whispers into my ear, telling me to call you Priscilla."
Her hand withdrew from between her legs, and met her chin - a face now fully disconcerted, yet aroused and intrigued. She remembered the tattoo, how it had bled before she went to sleep. Before she had woken up again, posessed with lust for the burned sailor beside her. Back when Neal was still a dull lover.
"That's when the old man from 2C knocked on our appartment's front door with a noise complaint."
Kaida frowned, in double-take, "Wasn't 2C the apartment above us we kept hearing the exuberantly horny lovemaking from?"
"Ever thought their word choice was a bit antiquated?" Neal had that look he got whenever he thought he was onto something. Some grand revelation. "It was the second floor of the brothel."
Kaida remained skeptic, "You don't expect me to b-believe that... surely the old man was just watching some dirty videos - or something?"
"Or something. Who is Priscilla?"
"You tell me, Neal! You're the one who's been fuckin' her. And I saw that tattoo on your arm!"
"You've forgotten more than last night, haven't you?" Neal was grinning broadly, "Our guest will be here soon to inspect the place. And..." he paused to chuckle, "You're possessed by a horned-up prostitute who thinks I'm her long-lost sailor beau!"
Kaida was infuriated. She just stared him down, seething.
He turned from side to side, and indicated the sides of his upper arms. They were blank. There was not a burn on his body. Just a whip mark, curling down his back. It would fade.
"Neal, I'm sorry! I..." she sat up and hugged him. "You would never..."
"It's okay, Kaida. Everything is going to be all right."
Frappa-frap-frap! Fraap-frap! A knock at the door.
"So," she concluded with a smile, "That damn old man has been going through my lingerie..."
Neal grabbed his housecoat, and went for the door. He was worried, not sure of she was being skeptic or sarcastic.