I quickly closed and locked the door of my Lexus and went over to her. 'Excuse me' I said when I got to her. I could see that she was crying and her...mascara was running down her cheeks. "Don't I know you?" I asked as I reached for her hand to help her up. She looked up at me and immediately buried her face in her hands. Yes, it was definitely the woman who lived a couple of blocks down from me. And she looked a lot worse for the wear. I knelt down beside her and took her shoulders in. In our private box in the opera house, she positioned her chair slightly behind me, leaned forward, pressing her breasts in to my back and shoulder, and spoke softly into my ear throughout the performance, translating the words as they were sung. It WAS much more interesting when you could understand what was being said. I had had no inkling that she knew Italian, and told her so when we had been seated for dinner. I fought a losing battle to keep my gaze above her prodigious cleavage (a. More

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