Sunny would always remember their first time.  They'd just purely fornicated, balled - whatever you like to call it. They walked into her little place tearing at their clothes, unzipping and unbuttoning and stopping to kiss, Bugood's big, wide face smiling down into hers, that soft mustache brushing her mouth, and then they were falling, awkwardly, not so gently, with breathless laughter, down on the floor between the kitchen and living room - because they knew they couldn't wait. His body was big, bigger than any she'd ever been with, and it seemed to glow in the darkness of the room. They were a match: She wanted to devour him; he wanted to consume her. They didn't stop for a long time. The four-four rhythm of their need beat with their bodies on the cold linoleum floor. Finally, they collapsed - he on top, the warmth of his body her heavy blanket. They laughed together, huge, rollicking laughter and then, standing up and walking without disengaging, moved onto her big bed and went at it again.

Later, she turned on the little light on the nightstand. They just looked at one another, planting occasional feathery kisses on foreheads, cheeks, noses, ears and mouths. They were amazed with themselves. She asked him, "Has this ever happened to you before?" looking into his dark eyes.

"Christ, no!" he breathed. "Did you slip me something when I wasn't looking?" They roared.

"No," she finally managed to say, "but you surely slipped something to me!" They roared again. 

She got up and went into the bathroom for a towel, letting the hot water run through it and squeezing it before bringing it out to him and rubbing him dry. He surprised her by getting up next, finding another towel and bringing it in to her, hot and damp. The moist heat felt marvelous.  'How considerate!  This is a man I could love!' Sunny thought to herself and then hit the side of her head on the wall, the idea startled her so. It was the only thought she had that night that she didn't share with him. 

They rested, talking about their "date" in the big old borrowed eighteen-wheeler he'd picked her up in, wondering what the trucker Bugood had borrowed the rig from was going to think about the prairie dust that now covered it, and what a great ride it had been. The two uttered a thanks to their friend Ettie for getting them together at the DY Bar, just at the edge of the rez. After awhile, he pulled his big body over hers, his long black hair tickling her face, and growled, "Wanna catch another ride?" He looked her straight in the eye.

"Oh, yeah," she breathed, "lemme get a load of those good miles." And off they went, through the night, on a physical, sexual trip like she'd never been on with anyone in her life. They growled and played like two and four-leggeds (he the naughty coyote; she the coy raven); they became English "got-rocks" (her name) who pursed  lips at one another and said, "Do tell!" between thrusts; they were doctors, probing one another to find which symptom was more serious than the last; they were cowboy and Indian, whooping and shooting at one another. They were exhausted but determined playmates who just would not stop. Finally, close to daylight, they fell into a long, happy sleep.

Sunny woke up at about two in the afternoon, fixed breakfast and brought it in to Bugood. She wasn't hungry, just thirsty, and watched him eat with gusto. She felt at peace with the world and herself. It was Sunday. When he got up and went into the living room, he turned to her and asked, "Did you know I'm not supposed to be in here?"

"What? Oh, I guess I'll let you out of that other room for just a spell; you worked pretty hard last night." She laughed.

"Indians aren't allowed in this teachers' compound."

"Oh, that's crazy." She was still certain he weren't serious, but something niggled at her mind, one of those stupid rules in the big book she thought she remembered reading that day before school had begun and then brushing off because it was so bazarre.

"We're just not."

"And what are they gonna do if they find you here? Send you screaming out the gate, lashing you with their cat-oh-nines?" She grinned up at him.

"No," he said, turning away from her and facing the prairie, "probably just shame me out." His voice dropped an octave, and she noticed the silence of the moment.

"Bull shit! They wouldn't do that. They're jerks, but they wouldn't dare. I'm allowed to have anyone I please in my own house. They can't dictate who my friends must be. I'd find a way to . . ." 

His look stopped her. Together, they pulled the big window curtains shut. She hated doing it. She wanted to open that window and sing out to the entire village that this man and she were being joyous together and that she was damned proud of it.

"Too bad for you," she joked. "Now I've got you in my clutches, and I'm not letting you out of that other room until dark." They headed for the bedroom.

Later, after a dinner of soup and crackers, they cuddled on the couch, sharing Marlboro's, listening to her favorite music and singing along in hideous voices to one another, giggling like little kids. He loved her rocking romantic music, even though he admitted that country was what he knew best. The closest she had to country in her collection was the Eagles' "I Get a Peaceful Easy Feeling" and "Take it to the Limit," both of which, they decided with big grins, were perfect songs for them. "Desperado" got them talking about their names: Bugood, his baby name; his Christian first and middle names given by his Catholic parents; and Jesse James, the outlaw name he and his partners gave to him when they were teens. He sounded serious and maybe just a little wistful when he said, "That song, "Desperado?" It really fits me."

After a shower, they went to bed again, early, and she set the clock so that they could sneak him out of the compound when it was dark. They made slow, rocking love while the Eagles sang, until, again, they dropped into that deep, childlike sleep.

He woke up easily, and she kissed him while the alarm played itself out. They dressed and went out into the cold darkness, to the back of her place. They'd determined that he'd have to climb over the high compound fence. Sunny would have to give him a boost. She discovered, after a couple of unsuccessful tries, that, hey, he was truly a big, big guy, and they had to work hard to get him up and over quietly, without laughing themselves silly. He fell, hard, on the other side, got up, dusted himself off, and promised to come back that night. They pursed their lips so that they could kiss between the triangles that made up the fence, and he disappeared into the darkness. 

Sunny felt an empty space surround her body with his absence. They'd been together for more than thirty-some hours, and she now craved his scent, his bigness, his way of enfolding her into his big body's soft haven of loving. 

She heard the eighteen-wheeler start up and chuckled as it moved slowly away. What a perfect vehicle for a first date. She knew she'd never, ever forget meeting him outside the compound fence at the prescribed time and feeling his hands boost her up into the cab of that huge thing. He'd wondered aloud how she'd liked his borrowed limo. She'd been speechless for awhile as they rumbled away, down the dusty path, spending the evening driving around the rez and then out into the hills. What a trip!

After he left, Sunny couldn't go back to sleep, so she turned on their music, poured some coffee and stared out the big window, watching the bleak light of day peer in, wishing his body were next to hers. The sound of the Eagles soared around Sunny, calling to her spirit: "Desperado, why don't you come to your senses? / You been out ridin' fences for so long now . . . / These things that are pleasin' you / Can hurt you somehow / Now it seems to me some fine things / Have been laid upon your table / But you only want the ones that you can't get / Desperado, oh you ain't gettin' no younger . . . / Your prison is walking through this world all alone."

"God!' she thought, "This song is about me, too. What am I doing here? Am I this lonely? Is it that phoney true romance love I'm looking for? No. I'm more than that. But this guy has me going. He could hurt me."

The words thrummed through her head, "Desperado, why don't you come to your senses / Come down from your fences, open the gate / It may be rainin', but there's a rainbow above you / You better let somebody love you, before it's too late."