By the time I was down to my briefs, she was on her knees. She peeled them away and my hot rod roared. I could tell she was disappointed. My tail is t...iny, more like a Volkswagen bug, but all three inches were rock hard and pointing straight at her. "I've never seen one this small," she said sadly, and flicked it with a finger. I flinched. "How many have you seen?" "Six," she said. "Your tits ain't exactly Jayne Mansfield's," I reminded her. "Like Karen's?" she asked. "Is that all you guys care. Taylor Winthrop had become cold to me and demanding for rewrites on a tight schedule when I had gotten married. Although I don’t think it was the marriage that had hardened her as much as Don’s insistence to take on my agent representation. Thinking back on it, I could readily see that Taylor was more interested in control and responding to Fabian’s needs than in my interests and needs. I was happy, of course, that she had lost a more personal interest in me—but, even there, I couldn’t help. They sipped the cold wine and he fashioned a smile that melted Ingrid. She was back to that euphoric mood she had experienced when handling the boat. She was giggling to herself at the effect her simple outfit had produced in Steve. She pulled her now bare feet up on the bench seat, folded her knees up almost to her chest, wrapped her arms around them and rested her chin on one knee. She was looking out over the still water of the little cove and admiring the scenery, the warmth of the sun and. ‘It’s what she deserves.’ ‘So what we’re left with is a rhythm section and a sound engineer,’ said Madeleine. ‘Can any of you sing or play guitar?’ I shook my head. If the three of us were to keep alight the flame of Crystal Passion we’d be more likely to emulate Underworld or Portishead and pursue a career on the dance floor, while I’m sure Madeleine would prefer we followed the examples of Joy Division after Ian Curtis committed suicide or Genesis when Peter Gabriel left (though I don’t.