I drop my stuff on the bed, shuck off my chaps and boots. I put on a pair of flip-flops. When I come out of the guest room she is dancing to some ligh... rock tune I can’t place. It has a nice beat and it isn’t until the singer comes on that I realize it is ‘The Girl from Ipanema.’ She does a nice dance, moving to the sultry tune. She sways her hips and waves her hands in the air, still wearing my gloves. She pulls my jacket down off her shoulders and thrusts her proud tank top covered breasts in. He came back with two plates loaded with food. Ravenous as ever, he was eating before she had reached for her fork. They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the fire, and enjoying the cous cous and stew. Although Jennifer had known he was a keen cook, she had been amazed to hear him talking at length about the traditions of Moroccan cooking, and she was now delighted to find that the food was delicious. Matthew had been unusually talkative until they began to eat. Now he looked at her. More

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