I play soft, relaxing music, most likely Sarah McLachlan and Marvin Gaye and slowly start to remove my clothing. I go back into the bedroom and remove...my shoes and panty hose before unzipping my skirt and sliding it down my legs. Then I unbutton my blouse and slide that onto the floor, not bothering to pick it up. I reach around and undo the clasp of my bra and slide that down my arms and place it on the bed. I walk over to the closet and take my short silk robe from the hook on the door and. . uh... well... you know how it is. A lonely widow. A very wealthy lonely widow." No, I don't know how it is, Ricky, and I doubt I want to. And please don't raise your voice like that when you are speaking to me." Sorry. The thought of cleaning the old hatchet wound that never heals with my tongue makes me cranky. But the one player who thrives on going south is Ike. The center. He's the fat one standing over there by the refrigerator with half a pizza in his hand. We call him Ike 'The Ice Box'. More

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