Jayne looked superbly confident as she stepped in unison with Fode and gradually her dress began to ride up her thighs giving at first a little glimps..., then a clear view of her stocking welts, stopping at the suspenders. She turned in time with the music and pushed her bum into Fode’s crotch while they danced and he embraced her, one arm over her shoulder and across her body, the other around her waist. Then they gyrated together and I watched hypnotically as the loud mesmerizing beat thudded. And we were happy. I underline it now because it was a happiness so short lived as to make one wonder if it had every existed at all. But it was real enough then, in those first few months, as we explored one another’s spirits and minds and found them just as delightfully suited to each other as our bodies proved to be. I left my apartment on Park Avenue in New York (this alone flabbergasted Xavier, who had been used to my complaints about the slack jawed mindlessness of the typical southern. More

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