Concealed feelings and hesitation and uncertainty.Not his type. Beyond her he didn’t have a type, truth told. Anyone would do. He felt the seep of h...lf-memories; overflowing ashtrays and lipstick stained cigarette butts and the choking edge of too-much perfume. Anyone, almost. Would she hate him if she knew? All those women. Night after night. He didn’t remember names, faces even; all he ever did was close his eyes and imagine her.“Just give me something,” Sofia said and she sounded tired.. . ? "Keep Wednesday open. Here's my number," and he handed her his card, "Call me Monday afternoon, okay?" Uuuh, yeah... sure... call ya... right."He finished his drink and moved off to work the crowd. Glad handing some, patting this girl on the rear; approaching a petite blonde with a pixie cut and a tattoo partially revealed on her breast from behind and lightly kissing her neck, causing a shriek followed by gales of laughter. Then he spotted the tattoo and did what no one else had the nerve. More

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