Mary had given me a key to her apartment when I hadvisited her a couple of years ago. The apartment was like her: homey, ina bookish sort of way. The ...elevision in her living room had more dust onit than the computer did. And the books. Did I mention the books? Therewere books everywhere, that's true, but this being Mary's place, theywere stacked as carefully on the floor as they were placed with equalcare on the shelves that lined every room. But it was clean and, in itsown way, tidy. How Mary. Before he could turn to see her depart, he felt a gentle touch on his neck that he both welcomed and somehow expected. Those strong fingers were soon kneading and caressing his own neck, and he lowered his head as a strange lassitude and warmth spread across his shoulders and down his spine. For several minutes, he let those fingers work their magic, and he closed his eyes and let them drain all the tension from his frame."What is your name, my love?" she asked"Jiri" was all I could say."Jiri,. More

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