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Old fashioned streetlights giving off a warm glow stood randomly around the plaza.Cindi licked the sprinkles off her ice cream. "Well, should we or shouldn't we?"I bit into my ice cream and felt its creamy texture against the roof of my mouth. Like Cindi, I had mixed feelings.Maybe I should digress a minute, so it won't seem unusual when you hear our decision. Cindi and I are 'sex junkies.' We crave sex like a heroin addict craves his/her next fix. Not just between us, but with other people when the opportunity (like now) presents itself. So, why were we apprehensive? Maybe because we weren't in control of the situation and didn't know what to expect, but were they adequate reasons not to pursue the opportunity? Cindi and I agreed it wasn't. We finished our ice cream and headed back to the porn store.Jacques's face lit up like a Christmas tree when Cindi and I walked back in, and he started babbling in French. I picked up a couple of words, 'Merci' (thank you) and 'heureux' (happy),. " Marta rolled her thumb in the center of Ray's palm, and he felt a wave of heat wash across his forehead. Thoughts of the Professor vanished from his mind, and he spent the rest of the concert in a warmly fuzzy anticipatory haze.* *** *Ray let Marta drive his car back to her apartment; the last Tom Collins had pushed him past his normal limit and he needed her help to get the seat belt fastened across his lap. They arrived at her front door, but a damp handshake was not in the cards for this night. Marta opened the door and helped Ray keep from tripping over the threshold while she turned on the lights. The inside was a cocoon of plush, soft surfaces - velours, thick carpet, padded fabrics on the walls, and everywhere the sheen of silk.Marta settled Ray into the deeply cushioned sofa and brushed her lips across his forehead, then wandered off toward the back of the apartment. Music started up; Ray recognized the voice of Lotte Lenya from the Threepenny Opera and he floated along with.
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