“Not like it’s your fault if you wake up one day and decide you hanker for a nice piece of ass, a ten-minute tumble. . ’ ‘By all means,’ agreed Lucy at once, and ignoring the automatic protest that issued from Roding’s lips, she threw a command over her shoulder as she turned to go. On the bench was set a quartern measure of gin, a crust of bread, and a slice of cheese. “What can you do?” she asked. What gave the puzzling twist to an ordinary situation was her manner: she was guileless. She pulled him by his tee shirt, pulling his mouth to her nipple. “How are ya, buddy? Good job at the concert. ’ Melusine might have responded that she had not asked him, but she was too intent on her mission.
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