“He was thinking, but she could tell he wasn't good at it....'Where do you live,' she asked, 'and how do I get there?”

“She smiled at him, with longing. 'Where do you live,' she asked, 'and how do I get there?”

“Do you think you might be able to love me someday?" He asked and heard her laugh softly."I already do." She said and his soul soared. "So this is what the poets write about? This is what they call love?" She asked."Yes my love." He said softly."They do not do it justice." She stated and he laughed."I agree." He told her as he held her, wondering how this could be real.”

“Good God!" she cried. She rolled off him, tugging down her clothing. "Are you mad?"He blinked and dragged in air. "Well, yes," he said thickly. "Lust does that to a man.""You thought we could-you would-do...that? In public?"I wasn't thinking about where we were."Her eyes widened."I'm a man," he said with what he was sure must be, in the circumstances, saintly patience. "I can do one or the other. Lovemaking or thinking. But not both at the same time.”

“As far as I know, he never asked where she had been or why she had left and she never told. I guess some stories do not need telling.”

“What are you up to?" she asked."Why would you think I'm up to anything?"Her lips pursed before she said, "You wouldn't be you if you weren't up to something."He smiled at that. "I do believe that was a compliment.""It wasn't necessarily intended as such.""But nonetheless," he said mildly, "that's how I choose to take it.”