The houses they flitted to and from were glutted with hangers-on, servant/mistresses, and errant prostitutes. On the way home he was still thoughtful. “Please don’t,” she said. He savored the last solo, the coda. She took some shirts, underwear, shoes, a duffel bag, and his wallet to make it look like he had gone a-traveling. ‘I don’t want no gold! Not for serving my mistress. Sleep did not come easily, but eventually her mind stopped its chattering and she fell into a deep slumber. ‘Here you, Pottiswick. ” The hand lingered too long.
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