“You’re such an egghead, even about sex! Honestly, Peter.” Katrina shook her head in her snobbish, teasing way at me as she kicked me gently under the table, blowing Dunhill smoke from one side of her thick lips.

She could say the stupidest things with those lips, but the asymmetrical smoke-blowing blew my mind every time.

They were the thickest thing about her — feather-soft but heavy and so fleshy they often seemed to overflow the space they had been designed to fill on her thin, elegant face. She could have literally just grunted “duh” and I would have wanted to scoop her up like the delicate taste of heaven she was.

But I had a plan for that evening, and I was damned if I was going to let her take me off the scent.

She was still talking: “Do you... Read More