“Am I crushing you?” he asked, when at last he was stretched out on top of her, skin-to-skin.
“Don’t you dare move.”
“Okay.” He held perfectly still. “Jean?”
“Yes, Charlie?”
“I’m not very… fancy. In terms of my moves.”
“You’re doing fine.”
He nodded, more out of politeness than because he actuallybelieved it, if the tightness around his eyes was any indication. “You’ll let me know? If you want me to try something different.”
“I’m a big believer in starting with the fundamentals. Like learning to cook. You don’t go straight to lobster thermidor.” Whatever that was. “You have to master the basics first.”
“Like macaroni and cheese?”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Dakota.” She added an eyebrow wiggle in case bumping him with her hips didn’t get the point across. “You’re at least a manicotti.”
The blush looked more like a sunburn. Jean felt another twinge inside her rib cage at his innocence, and the fact that he had admitted it to her, rather than trying to bluff. What was that story, about the shard of ice getting stuck in someone’s heart so they couldn’t feel? Only this was the opposite: a melting. She sensed a big messy scrum of emotions waiting to break free. “Think about it. It’s a lot easier than poker. Or public speaking.”
“Okay.” He was a billion percent too trusting, batting those obscenely long lashes at her like Bambi in man form.
“I’m waiting for my sexy snake facts.” The pads of her fingers traced the slightly different texture of his tattoo.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. I figured you’d say something about anacondas.”
“Well, they’re cannibalistic. I mean, they’ll eat other anacondas,” he added when Jean didn’t respond.
“I know what cannibalistic means. You just went a different direction than I was expecting.”
“Oh.” He looked down at her with a worried expression. “What should I have said?”
“Hey, babe, wanna ride my anaconda?”
“An anaconda can weigh up to two hundred and fifty pounds. I wouldn’t want to get your hopes up.”
Jean snorted at that, reaching up to tug a piece of hair at his temple. “What else have you got in that big brain of yours?”
He gave the question serious consideration, like he wanted to impress her with the best possible answer. “Did you know some snakes reproduce parthenogenetically?”
“Depends what it means.”
“The females don’t need a male to fertilize their eggs. They do the whole thing by themselves.”
She rolled Charlie onto his back before climbing on top of him and pinning his arms above his head. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Proceedings of the Society for the Study of Herpetology
Social Patterns in Semi-Arboreal Ambush Predators
Elinor Thompson and C. Poncefort Pike, under the direction of Dr. L. Sterrett, Herpetology
ABSTRACT
Is the ball python (Python regius) a more solitary breed than its terrestrial forager counterparts, or are its social patterns merely more elusive and misunderstood? Comparisons to species such as Butler’s garter snake (Thamnophis butleri), well-known for its intricate, female-driven social networks and tendency to gather in large groups, may have created the false impression that the ball python rejects the company of its own kind.
