Temple hauls in smoke, asks: “Do you think I have too much cunt?”

“No,” I tell her.  “Just the right amount.”

“I once dated a guy who treated it like a pistachio without a seam.”

“Dated?” She holds up two fingers. “I’m surprised you let him go the second round.”

“It was cold out. Snow up to here. I mean, I like mystery. I like awe. But I also like--”

“Research?”

She grins, waves me closer. I cross the room.

“Anyone ever tell you you fuck like a prince?”

“You,” I answer, and sink into her.

She whispers: “If I ever leave you, never forgive me.”

“I won’t,” I tell her, and haven’t.