However, I recall hearing that she’d had a baby a few months after we parted: I guess Claire was that erstwhile child.“So,” I said, “where’s...Arturo? That was his name, wasn’t it?”I’d never met her husband, and there was no wedding ring on Jazz’s finger.She shrugged. “He split, years ago. We were in Catalonia – or maybe it was Tuscany. A very fit young trapeze artist joined us and, long story short, they went off together.”I’d opened a bottle of Merlot, and now filled glasses for Jazz, my wife,. It was the same gal who I had almost run into on the way thru, and she hadn’t backed off any when I turned around, keeping her nice tits against me, and it pulled the v of her sweater off center, almost but not quite exposing her nipple. I couldn’t decide which was nicer to look at, her eyes or her tits, so I just went back and forth. She was watching me with amusement, smiling hotly. The band was loud enough that conversation would have been impossible, so I pantomimed popping a beer, and she. More

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