“I’m rich in poverty. I got no money coming out of my ass. I’m up to my neck in broke.”

“I’m not rich in paper money, I’m rich in packets of sugar. Actually, I’m richer, because at least the packets of sugar have some real value.”

“I’m going to kick his ass for touching you,” he growls. “And for wrecking my bike.”“I’m glad I came first in that sentence.”“Baby, you always come first.”

“Hell, I’m practically an escort for my rich doctor clients. They call and I come running whispering sweet nothings in their ears and whipping out some of the best drugs money can buy. Matter of fact, we just got some meds in that makes Viagra look like chewable kiddie vitamins. One of my doctors told me when he came it was so good, he blacked out temporarily. Me and my boy toy are trying that one out tonight.”

“I’m alive; I’m not gonna try eating your ass, okay? Don’t shoot!” “What… Eat my ASS?”“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m just thinking that would be pleasant. To be reading, say, out of a book, and you to come up and touch me – my neck, say, or my knee – and I’d carry on reading, I might let a smile, no more, wouldn’t lose my place on the page. It would be pleasant to come to that. We’d come so close, do you see, that I wouldn’t be surprised out of myself every time you touched.”