Sunday morning, ten o’clock. My friend Sheila and I were sitting together in a Catholic church.

I had been apprehensive about going with her at first, but I wanted to learn more about this five-foot-six-inch, chestnut-haired, beautiful goddess. We sat in the rear corner of the church, our backs to the wall. Everyone was singing around us, and paying no attention to anything but the hymn book.

Pretty soon I felt Sheila’s slender hand on top of mine. Her hand was so hot, I thought she was going to burn up. Anyway, she looked at me with half-closed eyes, as if she wanted something just out of reach. “Let me see your index finger,” she said. Without thinking, I offered her my hand and looked at her quizzically.

Sheila quietly lifted the pleated silk skirt from her crossed legs, and... Read More