The walls were of milk chocolate, the furniture, white sand. A pale rug covered the darkened hardwood flooring, charred logs lay in a broken pile on t...e fireplace floor and on the mantle were pictures of two little girls Karen remembered seeing with their grandmother at church. There was no picture of Jake and no picture of, what was his wife’s name? ‘Like a drink?’ Jake offered nervously. ‘Sure.’ ‘What?’ ‘What what?’ ‘What would you like?’ ‘Whatever you are pouring,’ Karen followed him to. "This is almost better than the other kind of massage," thought Miltonas he faded into a sleep deeper than he had experienced in years,disturbed only by an odd dream in which he seemed to be in an oldfashion phone booth that sparked and flashed while an insistent voicetold him about Thailand. With a deep sigh Milton woke up to the muffled sound of music thatseemed to be coming from a room close to the one where he had beengetting his massage, still feeling warm and supremely relaxed. More

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