This was him. Five foot six, and maybe a buck sixty. His mousy brown hair curled tightly against his scalp, his hairline receding, and his little horn...rimmed glasses. It all made for a perfect esthetic. No one would assume he was on his way to put cigarettes out on the skin of some young hooker who didn’t know what she was getting herself into.I flipped up the collar of my pea-coat and adjusted my Boston Spoon to ward off the cold a little better. And waited. Maybe fifteen minutes later a black. Then, slowly and unexpectedly, she responded to his kiss. Their tongues met with a pleasant tickle. He cupped her cheeks, taking care not to touch the device that supported her head. ?Are you crazy?? she asked softly. He caressed her forehead and smoothed her hair back from her face. ?Yes, but I can control my craziness,? he said and smiled. ?It feels a bit strange to be treated this way. Since I lost my attractiveness?? He placed his forefinger on her mouth, muffling her words. . More

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