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I watch him walk over to me. He is naked, spectacular, and he looks down into my eyes. As he kisses me, he winks. “What are you thinking about?”

I smile and I look up. “Not you.”

We laugh and then kiss, but this time, we kiss hard, like there is no tomorrow.

For us there is not.

Finally, I pull back, and I step along the window from him. Lorenzo lifts his chin, clearly suspecting something. “What?”

Tell him.

“I can’t believe you bought into the innocent cotton panties. And the naughty long socks and pleated skirt look.”

Lorenzo straightens and his eyes home in on me. He crosses his arms and almost grins. “Did you trick me into thinking you were more innocent than you are?”

I shake my head. “No… Yes. Maybe… A bit.”

I bite my thumb like a naughty school girl. I also, try not to giggle.

Lorenzo shakes his head slowly. “I don’t buy it. The most you could say is you tricked it up 3%”

“Oh it was all an act,” I lie.

Lorenzo laughs loud, likely thinking back to all the cotton panty moments, the hanging cotton panties in the bathroom, and all the long socks moments.

I join in laughing, and Lorenzo walks forwards. “What am I going to do with you?” Lorenzo holds my face in his hands, and he looks down.

“I can think of a few things,” I say.

Lorenzo lifts me fast, and he walks me to the bed. I scream, and giggle unsure what he will do. Lorenzo sits on the bed, and he holds me over his lap. I face downwards and I’m held as if I’m about to be spanked.

“If I don’t punish you now, you’ll try it again.”

“I won’t!” I scream. “I promise.”

Lorenzo rubs my butt and slides his fingers along my wet exposed seam. “You fucking will.”

“I won’t!”

“Now stay still! It’s for your own good.”

Lorenzo raises his hand, and I gasp. Excited. Nervous. Wet.

The next dayI work in an old section of the NYC library, and I try to track some very rare books. Leather bound. Rare. Valuable. Few people are around, and I’m focused and happy.

It does not take long, but my instincts kick in and hairs rise on one of my arms.

Spinning, I look around and I do a three sixty.

People read in the distance and there is nothing unusual. I shake my head and refocus on the list of books next to my cell.

“You’re hard to find.”

I gasp and know that voice.

Slowly, I force myself to turn and face him. Billy is covered in even more tattoos, and he looks even more fried. He is far from the man I first met.

He is denim clad, his hair greasy, his eyes wild. He’s been on the road again and he’s been doing drugs. “You... You should not be here,” I say.