I cannot describe the pleasure I still get watching these men regain their pride as they turn their lives around. I moonlight as a personal shopper fo... the well-to-do, but this is my passion and my calling.You see, I really did die that night. John Garson, driven businessman, raconteur, incipient alcoholic, is no more. He died when I accepted my death on that rooftop. I go by Jay Garson now. I'm quieter. I still have my sense of humor, but I don't need to be the center of events. One glass of. His sperm and something else. What? It smelled of Brenda. He remembered her particular odor, that body smell that meant she was horny, that she wanted him inside her. The smell hung heavily in the air. There were tears in his eyes.The statuette. Where was it? There! That lump under the covers. It was... it wasn't quite the same. Its limbs seemed to have changed position, to have stretched out. And its face... The eyes were closed now, and there was that expression of ecstatic abandon he had. More

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