By the end of the meal I was dry-mouthed, despite the emptied glass of orange juice on my table.Yael slid the bill onto my table. “It was a pleasure...serving you today, sir.” Her voice was low and sensual in my ear, unmistakably sexual. “I do hope we see you again.”At the bottom of the bill, a phone number written neatly in purple ink, and a message:Call me! Y.After breakfast a GettCab took me from the hotel to the Old North district of Tel Aviv, opposite the marina, where I could pay for a. In short, I couldn't keep my eyes off her.(Ever seen someone that you wanted to meet so badly you couldn't come up with a way of doing it?)She has real class, I thought to myself. How can I meet her without giving the impression I'm coming on to her?By now, she is moving into the bookstore isle I'm in—the Reference Section. She stops... pulls a book off the shelf. I see it's entitled, "How to plot your story." Laughing to myself I thought, Plotting—how appropriate."Excuse me, could I ask, are. More

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