“Something to talk about,” she said.

“Sex and the weather,” he replied, “are the two most common things talked about on the Internet. Well, at least it was, a few years ago, back when it was just Usenet and the World Wide Web was in its infancy.”

“Uh-huh,” she prompted.

They were walking along the edge of a river, in the heart of the city; the tide was out and the water lapped awkwardly against the concrete walls. The moon was high, her stars competing with the city’s own in the moving mirror. The river lapped, flowed, rolled, whispering as if she, too, had something to say, had she a voice to say it.

“Magic: The Gathering, was third, you know,” he continued, “that’s how I know about the first two.”

“That silly card game you used to play?”

“Yeah, that’s why they made it so big, word of mouth through the net, traders and tournaments and so forth. It’s quite a case study, very interesting.”

“No. Really, dear, it isn’t.”

“Why would you date a geek if you resent him his geekdom?”

Her fingers clenched around his, squeezing them, and she curled herself around his arm, “You’re more than just a geek; you’re smart, and interesting, and nice to talk to. Except,” she laughed, “you don’t talk.”

“I’m trying, I’m trying. Politics or religion?”

“Your pick.”

“Politics and religion are the things you’re not supposed to talk about, in polite company. You never know who you might offend.”

“Brilliant boy, choose something else, then.”

“Fear and loathing? Fear and greed are the two motivators of the stock market.”

She laughed. “You’re really finding this difficult, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” He turned to look at her, smiling at him with that big smile of hers, the glitter in her eyes and in her hair, like the light of stars earthly and celestial, sparkling in the water.

“All I asked was for you to choose a topic,” she said, “just once.”

“I choose topics all the time.”

“Well, then one more night won’t make a difference.”

They walked on in silence, along the twist of the river, under a bridge, onward. The air was chilling, and the breeze blew past them, involved in it’s own conversation with the water, upon the edge of hearing.

“Sex and the weather?”

“Okay. I’m sure they still talk about sex. Do they still talk about the weather?”

“I don’t know, really. I suppose, people always talk about the weather, don’t they? It’s like ‘how are you?’ Nobody actually expects you to say ‘My wife left me, took the kids, after I got fired from my job and now I want to kill myself, really. How about yourself?’”

“Uh-huh,” she said, smiling to herself.

“Small talk. You know.”

“Like pillow talk. Yes.”

“Well, I guess. I’ve never heard anyone use that phrase before I met you.”

She shrugged. He released his hand from hers, moved it across her back, around her waist, pulled her close.

“Yup,” he valiantly continued, “can’t remember what we were talking about, and you said we should talk about it after sex. ‘After sex?’ I said, and you said ‘pillow talk,’ and that was the first time I heard it live. I’m not even sure it means what you think it means.”

“Right,” she said.

He tried something else, “What do you think the most common phobias are?”

“Dogs. Big mean dogs.”

“That’s only you. But you’re afraid of everything.”

“I’m not afraid of heights. Unlike some people.”

“Bitch. Fine, but you’re afraid of everything else.”

“1982, baby. And that’s why I have you, my geek protector, here to save me from insidious conniving CD-ROMs.”

“‘CD-ROMs’? That’s the best you can come up with?”

“Dearest, I don’t speak your language, thank God.”

“I speak yours, though,” he made a show of clearing his throat, “Ahem; shoes, shopping, cleanser, shopping, clothes, make-up, shopping, shopping, shopping.”

She laughed, “If you keep this up I’ll take you shopping more often.”

“You do. Every time we go out, you take me shopping.”

“That’s not shopping, that’s walking around. I’ll take you shopping tomorrow, you’ll get to see what’s shopping really like. And then you’ll appreciate it too.”

“No, really, it’s alright.”

They reached the sea, and the wind carried with it the sound of the waves, stronger and more insistent. Clouds had arrived upon the wind, and the moon and her stars were hidden behind the veils of the sky. She moved away from him, placed her hand into his again, and they walked on, by the light of the street lamps, in the heart of the city.

“Sex and violence,” he offered.

“Too much of in media today.”

“Okay. So much for that, then.”

“We’re not playing a game, you know. This isn’t spot the dichotomy.”

“Sex and violence doesn’t qualify as a dichotomy, anyway. A dichotomy is mutually exclusive, like black and white, good and evil.”

“Female and male.”

“Darkness and light, yes. Sex and violence doesn’t count because you can have them both together, like violent sex.”

“Okay, let’s talk about that, then. I’m all for violent sex, and sexual violence, come to that. Sticks and stones will break my bones but whips and chains excite me. But you already know that. And candles! Ooh, yeah, baby! Your girl has been very bad, very very–”

“Okay, you can stop it now. You know I hate it when I get aroused and we can’t do anything about it. It’s frustrating. And uncomfortable.”

She stopped, turned in front of him, reached toward him with her free hand, “You are hard,” she laughed, “Poor you. You arouse me all the time, you know, my panties are soaked through,” she placed her feet apart, lifted her skirt slightly with her hand, “Wanna touch?”

He shook his head, smiled, “Beloved, heart of my heart, either we go home now or we talk about something else.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, “Let’s talk. We can wait for the sunrise,” she turned, started walking, dragging him along, “Choose a topic.”

“Shopping and hair cuts. That’s what women do when they’re feeling depressed.”

“It’s very therapeutic. What do men do?”

“We don’t get depressed.”

“What? Ever?”

“Yup. We don’t have feelings.”

“Oh. That again. Okay.”

“Okay.”

They walked on in silence, wrapped by the raising wind, along the edge of the sea, beating furiously against the concrete. It was darker now, the streetlamps placed further apart, and they moved from one pool of light to another, beneath the angry sky.

“It’s raining,” she said, looking up.

“Oh! You’re right! That’d certainly explain the drops of water falling from the sky. Come on,” he started towards the shelter ahead of them, beneath a flyover, her hand tightly in his.

“Idiot.”

The rain broke and it beat down upon them, and they made it just before being thoroughly soaked. It was entirely dark here, the rain drowning out the lights before and after them. She released his hand, started fussing with her hair. He sat down, his legs out in front of him, leaned against a giant pillar, holding up the flyover far above them. “Damn,” he said, “I’m all wet now.”

“That’s something we have in common then,” and he could hear the smile in her voice, though he could barely make her out, “I’m all wet too.”

Then she was over him, her knees on each side of him, her lips on his.

And her lips were near his ear, and beneath the roar of the storm, she whispered, “Sex and the weather,” kissed his cheek.

“Huh?” he managed, felt her tugging at his pants, helped her.

And her lips kissed his, the other cheek, the other ear, whispering, “Sex and the weather; fuck me in the rain.”

And she placed a finger across his lips, looking down upon him, smiling, as the rain sprinkled them with droplets, brought by the wind from the sea. She slowly lowered herself, smiling, as the wind wrapped them with music, brought by the rain from the sky.

“Something to talk about,” she said.