Naked, she moves at the foot of the mattress, Veedon Fleece still on repeat from the night before. She thinks I’ve slept in but I’ve never been able to do that in her bed. Flashes of red--her hair, her nipples, her lips--tempt me as she turns. I’m a bull beneath these blankets and Beth is my torero practicing veronicas in front of the mirror.  I throw the covers. She turns to meet my charge. My end is certain. Olé!