“Whutzat?” he asked. I thought it was a faux pas to ask to feed on someone else's pomme de sang, I said. Three days it had been since we’d last eaten. ring first and loudest for the high cheekbone, the tight little ass, the strong chinor the quick flash of crossed leg.
Then he felt he should tell her about Mom. “Thank you. The first hint I had about how wrong things had gone was the real rat that waddled up to sniff at Musette's white skirts. And something about what he said, or the way he said it, made Jean-Claude do that masculine chuckle that only men do, and only about women, or sex.
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