Never with Melody, always with rhythm...

You know, I never have sexual fantasies about her, though our sex was pretty good and abundant enough that I never went wanting.

I have... dance fantasies about her.

A sultry tango, a difficult and sometimes-awkward dialogue in white suit, black lace, fishnets and heels.

A sweaty salsa, Perez Prado racing in the background.

An elegant waltz, prim and proper to the outside onlooker but heartfelt and sweet to the two of us.

A gentle slow dance in the dark, Artie Shaw's 1940 orchestra low in the background as the cats nudge around our feet.

That's what I miss about her: the things I wanted and never knew.

She was so impatient.

I hope she keeps him long enough that he might know these things.

I will send her a killer dance CD.

That is my job.