He meandered through the wastelands, like some carnivorous dragon, bellowing and harping great lashes of fire and might, screaming injustice from his ...odium of steel noise. He pissed fire and shat blood and on the stage he ravaged the small crowds with words of loss and deeds of fumbling madness. Wore a black hat always, and stood far taller than the others in the band. On Wednesday nights, far away from the crazed heat and slurring hypnosis of the performance, when all was quiet and gentle. I wanted a man I could love and give myself to without reservations and doubted I could ever feel safe with Angelo, even though he seemed so different than the man who came to Rosie's with a new woman every night. The trick was how to write stories that I knew would enchant him, turn him on, and, I have to admit, get me hot, but keep him from fucking me. Who was I tantalizing when story after story made him hard and me wet, and I would get him to jerk off while I took care of myself, next to. More

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