Irene slid about, turning to look at Sam.  "Half-dead from heat prostration and you think of sex?"  She grinned.  "Men are just made different."  She wrinkled her nose at him.  "I'm thinking about a cool cloth, running some tepid water over my body until I get goosebumps and shiver and long for the heat.  I'm thinking of lying on the bed unclothed...a damp rag across my throat and you're thinking of getting laid."<br/><br/>She faced forward once more, smiling to herself.  Her talk had got her a littler hotter and ...sweatier... than she had been. Damned man, she thought.  Starting things up way out here...  She frowned, looking down at the gray's mane.  Well, now, she was the one to do the imagining...  Irene had to admit that she was as bad as Sam.<br/><br/>