San Francisco, city of my birth, must be just about the best damn place in the whole world for a single guy. Not just because there are more women than men, but because it's a faery city as well as a city of fairies. From any vista point, you might feel you were overlooking a silvered, shimmering Oz.

"Mornin' Sally. How you doin' this beautiful day?"

"Good morning to you, Gavin. I'm doin' okay."

The tall blond hid a large yawn behind long, red tipped fingers.

"Are we keeping you up, beautiful?" I teased.

"Late party last night. Low fat Latte?"

"As always." I eyed her slim hips as she turned to the Espresso machine. You could keep me up all night, you pretty thing. Just wrap those long legs around my neck and hang on. I almost chided myself for thinking lewd thoughts about this warm hearted young woman. Almost.

"Who was that big New York Jewish woman with you the other night?"

I didn't remember seeing Sally in my favorite Potrero Hill coffee stop, the Daily Scoop.

"A friend who was house guesting for a few days. She's thinking about immigrating. How did you know she's New York Jewish?"

"I recognize the style."

I almost couldn't hear her words over the machine's steam blast.

"And she has that nose made famous by Striesand."

Could only nod acceptance.

Sally turned to slide the tall Latte glass across the counter.

"You're a slut," she stated softly, grinning, her eyes sparkling.

"What?" I almost shouted, feeling a flash of horrific. If she'd stuck a finger in my eye, I couldn't have felt more pain. "I am not!"

Sally's steady grin held firm, despite my forceful denial.

"Every Saturday night, you're in here with a different woman. You are definitely a slut." She tried to quell her grin, forcing her full, wide lips into a puckered half frown.

My mouth hung open as I tried to find the words to deny, to explain, to mask the awful embarrassment of truth.

"You're cute when you blush," she noted, almost an aside. "I've seen you in action. You're a smooth talker, could prob'ley sell freezers to Inuits."

She plucked dollar bills from my numb fingers.

She gave her smile to the next person in the queue as I turned away, feeling confused.

Burying myself in the Sunday Chronical didn't work. Rambling thoughts confounded me.

Yes, I like women, and they like me. I've known more than a few, but to be called a slut hurt. I felt diminished by the cruel label, and didn't like it one little bit. What the hell's wrong with a little recreational sex? Or a lot of recreational sex? I decided to accept the title, to not feel demeaned by it.

"Hey, din't mean to hurt your feelin's, guy."

Sally slumped into the chair opposite, a hint of worry in her pretty blues, dark circles under her eyes.

"No, you just..." I looked closely at her slightly reddened eyes. "Got me stuck in a loop. You look..." I almost said 'terrible', but closed my yap in time.

"Had a 'disagreement' with my boy friend last night. We stayed up most all night after the party trying to talk it out, but..." she sighed heavily, dropping her eyes to her hands, her shoulders slumping.

"Tell me about it. I'm a good listener too." I grinned at her.

Sally made a small sound as if to reject the offer. After a moment, her eyes peeped up through pale yellow bangs.

She shrugged, clearly emoting 'nothing to lose'.

"Brian's a guy's guy. He's a good salesman, makes lotsa money, likes to hang with his buds after work, shooting hoops, drinking beer. Then he comes to my place and 'bops me a good one'." She snorted softly, shaking her head. "His words."

Sally sat taller in her chair, pulling her shoulders hard back for a few seconds, finally making eye contact with me. My eyeballs strained not to stare at her modest breasts.

"Then he wants me to fix him breakfast, and make like nice little wifey." Her eyes tightened. "He doesn't care I've my own agenda."

"So you butter both sides of his toast. What's on your agenda, Sally?" I asked her softly.

"I want to get married, to finish my degree, then make some babies." She tilted her head slightly, frowning. "That's not too far out, is it?"

"Sounds okay to me," I shrugged. I felt like picking her up in my arms, and carrying her to a warm safe place. "What's his problem, do you think?"

"He's thirty, says he doesn't want to get serious yet. He wants me to live with him, but doesn't want to get married for a few years. I'm sorta conservative, you know? I grew up in a small town that Norman Rockwell coulda sued for copyright infringement."

Laughing, I asked, "But you're sleeping with him, so you can't be that conservative."

"Should have said conventional. There's not much to do in a small town, so..." She grinned lewdly. "Most of us started, um, having sex pretty early." She burbled a big sigh through fluttering lips. "He's really a nice guy, and, when he turns it on, could charm the socks off a nudist."

We shared a small laugh.

"Thanks, Gavin. You made me feel better." She put a quick friendly smile on, reaching over to squeeze my arm. "Back to work," she said, standing.

"Give me your phone number, Sal. I'll call you later." I brought out my pen and poised it over a napkin.

"What for?" she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"I'll ask a friend how she handled her Peter Pan, and will gladly share it with you."

"Oh, cool." She gave me her number, no longer guarded.

For the next while, my eyes were either on the Sunday paper or on her. She shared her warmth and friendly smile with each customer, though not with her usual energy. Damn, she's such a pretty one, I thought several times, trying to quash a tingle of lust, and not succeeding. Not succeeding at all.

That afternoon I called her, expecting to leave a message on her recorder, but she picked up.

"Hello," she answered softly. I could sense tears from the tone of her voice.

"Hi Sally, It's Gavin. I didn't expect to catch you. My friend is unreachable this week, so I'll have to get back to you next week or so."

"Don't bother, Gavin. I outlined my issues again and he split."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Like hell I was. "You okay?"

"No, I'm not. I feel like shit. Like a dog turd, squished on the sidewalk."

I listened to her snuffle for a moment.

"May I help you, Sally? What's your address, I'll come and take you to a beautiful place to contemplate your universe."

"I'd love to, Gavin, but I'm a mess. Maybe some other day. Okay? I just want to crawl into bed and pull the covers up over my head."

"Just give me an hour." I tried not to sound too pleading. "Please. I can guarantee you'll feel better."

Miracle's do happen. I picked her up in front of her flat, short blocks down the hill from mine. She was sitting on the narrow granite stairway with her cheek on her knees, her straight hair a cascade of shimmering gold down to her ankles. When she heard my car, she unwrapped her arms from around her legs as she twisted her head to look up.

When I waved, she made a weak smile and stood; long slim legs and torso slowly unfolding. She'd changed from tight jeans to a knee length, dark skirt and white blouse. She looked simply California Blonde Beautiful, even if her slouch marred the effect.

I leaned to open the car door for her. She tossed a ski jacket into the back seat before swiveling her butt into the leather bucket seat, flashing a long, slim bare leg.

I had to gulp and swallow, my mouth suddenly flooding with saliva. "Be cool. Be cool. Be cool," I subvocalized. I could feel the rush she elicited flush my cheeks.

"Where are you taking me, Gavin."

"There's a park just off Upper Market. The view is terrific, and it's very tranquil."

We rode in silence. She glanced at me several times, but I didn't respond until she didn't drop her eyes for almost half a minute.

"Why are you studying me, Sal?" I gave her a quick look. From her expression, I gathered that she was evaluating my worth, my value to her in this painful hour. I felt a tingle of goose bumps down my neck.

"You're too nice," she said, her voice flat. "You say too many nice things. Why?" she probed.

"Mm," I stalled, exaggerating a shrug. I glanced at her face again to find an amused gleam in her eyes.

"When I called you a slut, I thought your face was going to fall off." She laughed softly for a moment, as if delighted by the memory. "I'm sorry. I really didn't expect your reaction."

"I've come to terms with it, don't worry. In fact, I kinda like it, even if it's not really true."

"Liar!" she said with a soft chuckle

"I can talk, listen pretty good, whatever. Women like me, maybe 'cause it's obvious I like them." I shrugged again. "I really can't stand the company of most men." I thought about that for a moment. "Except some of the gay guys."

"You like gay guys?" She seemed surprised. "You're not..."

"No," I drawled, interrupting her. "There are just so many with a delightfully wicked sense of humour. What's to not like? You can't be comfortable in this town if you're homophobic." I held my breath, trying to feel out her reaction. "Or judgemental."

"Mm," she seemed to agree, nodding her head, the afternoon light shimmering in her long, straight yellow hair.

We rode in silence up Market Street. An oncoming yellow and green, turn of the century trolley car clattered past, its brakes squealing. Most riders seemed tucked into their own thoughts, except for the few grinning, head on a swivel, tourists.

"Where you from, Sal? Originally."

"A little town near Mount Shasta. Ever been there?" She seemed distracted, not really interested in my answer.

"Close. I've been to Crater Lake. Great skiing."

I watched her eyes track a handsome young gay couple, striding along with their hands in each others back pockets, each smiling warmly into the other's face. I wondered if they were really as carefree as they appeared.

"How do you know when," she said in a soft voice, "um, if you love somebody?" She turned her head slightly away. "Not just like them a lot?"

I had to think for a long minute, distracted by the fairly dense traffic.

"How about when you're not thinking with your gonads." I grinned at her. "Or your insecurities. That's a start anyway. Do women think with their gonads?" I queried, feeling my brow furrow.

"Sometimes," she sighed long, turning her face to the side, as if bored with the topic now.

I left her to her thoughts while negotiating the turn off Market Street. The street before us was steep and twisting, narrow, congested with parked cars.

"What do you want? What do you look for in a man?"

"Mmm," she hummed, "sense of humour, sweetness..." She took a deep breath. "Selfconfidence 'cause it makes me feel safe." She tsked, as if annoyed. "Comfortable, I mean."

I steered the car around the last curve into a parking lot.

"Here we are. Be prepared, this is about the most beautiful open air view the city has to offer." I drove behind the building, a community rec center, and parked facing north.

"Shit," she breathed, "this is about as pretty as it gets." She twisted around to look over her shoulder. "Can almost see from the San Mateo bridge to the Golden Gate."

"Let's walk. From the top of the hill you can see most of the city."

Sally sat quietly on my blanket, not focused, but looking in the general direction of Marin county, very much inside of herself.

"I think I did the right thing," she said, almost to herself, her lips pinching tightly together, nodding her head, satisfied with her choice.

"Tea?" I asked. She didn't respond.

I poured tea into two mugs, and held one out to her, resting my forearm on her bare knee. She took the mug in both hands, held it up to her lips, breathing in the steam.

"Smells spicy," she said with more strength, straightening her back, pulling her shoulders back.

"I'm going to miss him," she said, turning to look me full face for the first time in a long while. "Not for too long, but..."

I waited for her to finish her thought, then realized she wouldn't.

"Why?"

"Mmm, sex, I guess. He was a pretty good bopper." She paused for a long moment, a small smile playing over her lips." I wish he'd been better company, though. And, he kept demanding I suck him and swallow. I can't do that." She dropped her head. "Seems like I was only good for bed and breakfast."

"I think I saw the two of you, maybe three, maybe four times. He seemed rather full of himself, rather self centered."

"Rather New York." Her eyes flashed a sad smile as she sipped her tea.

"Yeah, that was obvious. How did you feel about him?" I scooted closer to her, close enough to enjoy her faint perfume. "Early on, I mean." I lay beside her, propping my head on a bent arm.

Sally shrugged, sipped her tea, stared at the Marin headlands before speaking.

"I'd only been in town a few weeks when I met him. He came up to me in the Scoop and asked for a cheese puff." Her head fell forward, her chin almost on her chest. After a moment she lifted her head and took a deep breath, a glint of tears in her eyes.

"He said, in such a sweet voice, 'What are you doing tonight, pretty girl?'" She laughed softly, shaking her head. "Such a simple line, but he spoke to me as if we were friends, as if he knew me, had known me for years." She shook her head again, her long silky hair waving as if puffed by a gentle breeze.

"I felt suddenly bold. I'd been so intimidated by this town, maybe I still am, but I said I'd no plans. Did he have any suggestions?"

I watched her pretty face change from softness to pain, her eyes scrunched tight, her lips clenching as she fought back tears. In a blink, I had her in my arms, holding her tight to me. Her arms clutched around my waist and shoulder as she pressed her face to my chest, muffling wracking sobs.

I held her, rocked her, pressed my lips to her neck, trying to suck out her pain as if she'd been snake bit. Her sobs slowly changed to occasional snuffles. She sat up and fumbled a tissue from her jacket pocket.

"Sorry I'm such a mess," she whined, blowing her nose.

"You look very beautiful to me."

She gave me a 'Yeah, right!' look, stuffing the tissue back into the pocket.

With a big sigh, she arched her back, throwing her shoulders back, scanning the park as if she were seeing it for the first time.

I fumbled in my backpack, pulling out an ocher plastic bottle.

"Here, take half of one of these." I held out my hand.

"What is it?" She focused on the pill in my fingers, slightly wary.

"Quaalude. A half will take the edge off, but not mess up your head."

She seemed hesitant, so I pressed it into her hand.

"Here, take it. Break it, I'll take half, you take half." I spoke with a strong voice, not giving her the option of rejecting the offer.

I tossed the bottle back into my backpack, watching her stare at the large, white tablet in the palm of her small hand.

"You sure?"

"Oh yeah, I'm sure. Half a 'lude will just smooth you out. Nothing to worry about. You wont be tripping."

We popped our pills, washing them down with cold tea.

"More tea," I asked her, dumping my cup.

"Sure," she said, handing over hers.

We sat in silence for long comfortable minutes. She sipped and occasionally sighed.

"How long does it take?"

"Mm?"

"For the 'lude to kick in?"

"I've never felt a 'kick in'. In fifteen minutes or so, I just notice I'm sort of mellow. Lasts for a few hours."

"Mmm," she sighed.

"What are you studying?"

"Art," she said, without enthusiasm. "I want to the teach little ones to draw and paint, so I guess I'm also working on a teaching credential." Again a big sigh. "I have to support myself someway until I'm famous and rich. I might as well be a teacher until..."

"What's your favorite medium?"

Sally turned her face to mine, staring intently as if to determine the sincerity of my question.

"Acrylic, but sometimes watercolor. Right now, I'm focused on paper and wire mobiles 'cause it's cheap."

"Alexander Calder style?"

She seemed surprised, her eyes held mine as she answered. "Sort of, not as stark, more feminine, you know, softer shapes and colors."

Her head tilted slightly, her bright hair falling across her cheek. She tucked it behind an ear.

"You an artist?" she asked with little confidence.

"I'm a poet," I lied, feeling so charmed by her, my lust forgotten. "Your eyes reflect the sky, so blue. Azure eyes capturing me. Let my fingertips taste your fair, soft cheek."

"Liar," she exclaimed with a tinkling laugh. "You're a suit, not a poet."

"Ah, yes, but your beauty so inspires." I gave her my most melodramatic delivery.

"You stop," she said with that charming tinkling laugh again, leaning to press her shoulder against my chest.

I kissed the top of her head, and hugged her tight. She tilted her face up, her mouth so ripe for a kiss. Grinning down at her, I pecked her nose lightly. Leaning back, I admired her perfect, slightly pink complexion, her pale eyebrows, noticing for the first time a small scar. I traced her eyebrow with a fingertip, stopping on the scar.

"Baseball," she said, almost a whisper. "My mother almost shit kittens, there was so much blood." Her eyes were blinking about once a second.

I wondered if she was aware of my thumping heart, I certainly was. I traced a fingertip the length of her aquiline nose, across her cheek, her jaw line, the side of her neck.

"Sally, you are a work of art," I said, matching her whisper. I trailed three fingertips across her collar bone to the hollow below her throat.

"May I kiss you here?" I stroked that hollow with a gentle finger, wishing it were my tongue.

"And here?" I tapped my forefinger down her sternum, pecking my lips softly with each tap.

"And here?" I brushed her nipple with a gentle thumb before lightly cupping her breast. Sally's cheeks were pinking, her mouth opened slightly. She made the smallest of head shakes so I slid my palm down and around to her ribs, feeling her soft warmth.

"Sorry. I'm so selfconscious." She gave me a pained look. "My breasts are so small."

"Ah, sweet Sally. There ain't much meat on your bones, but what there is, is certainly choice."

"Cherce," she said with some force and a giggle. "You said it wrong. Tracy said Hepburn was 'cherce'." Her eyes danced.

"So he did. So he did," giving her my best W.C. Fields imitation.

My sillyness seemed to break her mood. Her wide smile and dancing eyes transformed into a serious expression, a questioning near glare.

"You're coming on to me." She tilted her head slightly. "Aren't you?"

"Thought you'd never notice." My grin was not responded to.

"You just want to get into my panties?" Her tone accused.

"Not just your panties."

That twitched her.

"What does that mean?"

"Your spirit, your lovely bright spirit so entices me. I want to share time with you, close, intimate time."

She turned her face away, closing her eyes. After a long moment, she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through pursed lips.

"Too much, too soon." Her voice carried a slight petulant whine. "And you're not really an appropriate choice for me." She turned a tight lipped face up to mine. "You're too old. I don't think I could handle a May-December relationship."

"Try May-September." My growl harsher than intended.

She glared, but didn't pull away from my embrace.

"I'm not asking you to have my children, you know?"

"What are you asking then?" Another petulant whine.

"I'm inviting you to get to know me. I'm inviting you to let me get to know you. You're a beautiful woman, and I'm not just talking about how you look."

Her face softened a bit, some of the wariness fading from her eyes.

I pressed on. "Did you have a nice hour here with me? You seemed to enjoy yourself. I got into your head a little bit, didn't I?" I waited for a response, got only a small nod.

"I got you out of your head, didn't I?"

She just blinked.

"You were feeling miserable, full of self pity, doubting yourself." I raised my eyebrows and waited.

"You gave me drugs and sweet talk and groped my tit." Her eyes danced, a smile wiggling her lips. "Is that your standard seduction ploy? Is that the way you get all those women into your boudoir, slutty man?"

"It's simpler than that," I grinned most lasciviously and waited until she poked me.

"I just show 'em my dick."

She made a cute 'don't be a jerk' face.

"For maybe two hours or so."

She tried to glare, but couldn't suppress a short bark of a laugh.

"Truth!"

"Liar," she burst out, her tinkling laughter charmed.

"How 'bout a date? Will you come with me..." I paused, trying to think of an event she'd find amusing, distracting.

Looking ever so mischievous, she asked sweetly, "Is that two separate invitations?"

"Could be, but I was thinking the Asian American Theater Company has a warm up dress rehearsal next Thursday night of 'Once Is Not Enough'. I'd love to see that."

"You are so transparent." She shook her head. "Once is not enough? That's not for real?"

"On my mother's empty grave. It's a 'who dunnit'."

"I'll think on it."

"Thanks, Sal." I leaned and pecked her forehead. "I'll pick you up at six. We can have dinner at Greens before."

I called her Wednesday evening. She answered her phone with a cheery, if wary, tone.

"Hi, Sally. It's me, Gavin. How you doin', pretty girl?"

"Glad to hear it. I called to ask if you'd like to dress fancy tomorrow night. We can go casual, but it might be more fun to fancy it up. What do you say?'

"Cocktail dress would be perfect. Oh, I'm going to dress black, so if you want to brighten us up, that would be great."

"Yellow? Yow, you'll hurt somebody in that color. Fantastic. See you at six."

I parked in her driveway, and hurried to ring her bell. She opened the door before I could find her button.

"I'm ready," she sang.

"Oh, my god, you are, aren't you." Her hair was up, exposing a long slim neck, her lightly tanned shoulders bare above the low cut bodice of her pale yellow silk dress.

I held out my hand, she took it, and gracefully swept through the doorway. Her faint perfume subtle at first, but seemed to linger. She walked to my car, I floated six inches above the concrete. I began the Sally mantra, "Be cool, be cool, be cool."

The drive to Fort Mason was a blur. Her melodic voice, tinkling laughter, kept me all a shiver.

Greens' organic vegetarian dishes were tasty, but all I wanted was her. Not just for desert. I wanted a taste of her ear lobes for starters, and there were so many tasty tidbits to nibble before the main course.

"Gavin, you seem distracted. You okay?" Sally's innocent blue eyes twinkled.

"I'm quite fine, Sal. It's just that you are distractingly beautiful." I fought to keep my eyes on her face.

"You like my dress?" She put a coy, little girl expression on, as she sat taller, arching her back slightly.

"Sally, that dress is killer." I put my hand over my heart and sighed. "You are just scrumptious."

She preened happily, her cheeks pinking slightly.

"Did you get some sun? Your shoulders are..."

"Oh, I have to tell you this. My girl friend and I went to Baker beach yesterday." Her eyes gleamed and danced. "The part up by the Golden Gate bridge where everyone is naked!" She giggled, and hid flushing cheeks behind her palms.

"Oh? Did you have fun?" I said, waggling my eyebrows.

"There were three guys who kept staring at us. One of 'em had a guitar. He played Classical Gas. So hot."

"Him or the music?"

"Him, of course."

"So, what did you do?"

"I felt very brave so I rubbed baby oil on my tits." She laughed, shaking her head. "He shuffled his guitar around on his lap. I think I gave him a hard on." She hugged herself and shivered. "He was so cute."

"Did you talk to him?"

"No," she groaned. "His pregnant wife was there." Sally's nose wrinkled, her mouth twisted. "He rubbed lotion all over her big belly in such a loving way," she said with a big sigh. "It turned me on. Mega turn on. I wanted to run over to him and beg, 'Do me!', 'Put your big hands on me!'."

"Guess girls do think with their gonads."

"Gavin," she reached to squeeze my hand, "I want to go there again. Will you come with me?"

"Me?" I was dumbfounded.

"Yes, you. You're the only guy I know that I can trust right now." She squeezed my hand harder. "Please. Please." She tilted her head slightly, her eyes pleading, smiling large.

"Well, I guess I could." I tried to hide my eagerness behind patently false reluctance.

"Thank you. You're such a Sweety."

"Let's go see a play."

The walk from Greens to the theater was short, too short. Sally hung on my arm, her body brushing against me. Major tingles.

We took our seats in the small, nearly empty theater. Sally leaned close, rubbing shoulders with me, turning a sweet face up to mine. I couldn't resist kissing her. A soft kiss, no tongue.

"Mmm?" she questioned, when I gently sucked her full lower lip.

The play went well, the lead actress gave us her soft Japanese femininity. In the second act, during one tense scene, Sally gripped my leg hard. She seemed very into the play. The third act was twisted and dark. The actress gave us scenes of harsh emotion, her face contorting with anger and hate. When the final curtain came down, the actors came out for their bows, and Sally's enthusiastic standing applause.

"Wonderful, Gavin. Thank you for bringing me." She danced and twisted before wrapping me in a big hug. "I've never been to a live play before," she beamed up at me. "It's so intimate." I held her, wanting so badly to taste her sweet mouth again.

"People, listen up."

Sally and I turned to find a tall, goateed man on the open stage. He raised his arms, and gestured 'gather round', his long dark pony tail swaying down the back of his black turtleneck.

"I think the rehearsal went splendidly. Good job." He smiled around his group. "But," he paused to endure their groans. "We have to pick up the pacing here and there, especially act two, scene two. Give it a little more energy, a little more tension." He scanned the troupe's faces. "I'll have my notes ready for all of you tomorrow afternoon. Now, let's partay. Where's the champagne?"

"Do you want to meet him, Sal? The director?" I whispered in her ear.

She lifted wide eyes to mine.

"You know him?" She seemed impressed.

"We were at Cal about the same time," I shrugged.

"Oh, let's."

As we turned, she slipped her arm through mine, and hugged it to her breast. Feeling a surge of heat in my belly, I wrapped her up, and held us tight, belly to belly. Her eyes sought mine, widening as her grin became lascivious. She pressed closer, rolling slim hips against me, mouthing my ear.

"You shuuure know how to compliment a girl," she purred.

I chuckled and squeezed her tighter for a moment.

"Is it for me, or for that gorgeous actress." She bit my earlobe.

I jerked my head back to mock glare at her.

"Both of you," I stated firmly, without expression. "I'm a slut, remember?"

"Tsk," she said, wrinkling her nose as if in disgust, shaking her head, her eyes dancing.

"Come on, silly Sally. You're about to have some fun."

On stage, the pony tail swung as the tall man waved his arms to emphasize his exuberant words. He held a half empty magnum of champagne in one hand, and a tall paper cup in the other as he danced in front of the petit star of his play. He radiated boyish charm, his body language seductive.

"Guy, if you have a moment," I half shouted over the din of twenty or so laughing voices.

"Gavin," he burst out and spun to face us. "Hey, old man. How is your sorry ass?" He seemed about to step forward, and bear hug me when he noticed Sally on my arm.

He stopped, frozen in place, leaning forward to put his face inches from Sally's.

"Who is this little peach?" He glanced at me. "You are an actress? Oh, tell me you're an actress," he begged. His tongue swiped his upper lip as if he were a happy puppy, about to lick her face. "I'd love to direct you, my pretty." Not on a stage, his tone implied,

"Guy Nakamura," he breathed. "Tell me your name, pretty little peach," he begged as if in pain, holding out his hand. Sally, a bit wide eyed, gave him her hand, which he immediately brought to his lips.

"S, Sally," she stuttered, glancing at me. "Sally Finnagin."

"Saaally," he sang softly, his eyelids drooping. His body shuddered slightly as if he'd had a small orgasm. "Lovely name for a beautiful woman. Those lips, those eyes will break a thousand hearts." He brought her hand to his chest. "And mine will be the first."