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"Want to come in? Dave isn't home yet. I don't want to explain you to him. He doesn't know about my online life." I nod. "I'd love to see your home, put a visual to my fantasies." My face shows a rueful grin as I hesitate. "See your mirror collection." I look away a moment, then back to your eyes. "Preferably in action." You hesitate, give me an apologetic smile. "Maybe not such a good idea." "You're right. Maybe take me to my hotel? We can sit and just hold hands for a bit." -*- I am sitting in the one chair, you lying on the bed propped up on all of the pillows. Flutes of minibar sparkling wine stand beside us, barely touched. "So what are you supposed to be doing this afternoon?" "I was going to have a pedicure. Dave won't notice if I don't, though." Taking your right foot in my hands, I slip off your sandal and massage the ball of your foot. You pretend to faint, flopping back onto the pillows, groaning. "You like?" "Mmm." I lightly draw lines up your foot, shin, calf, gently. He said not much. I then informed him that one of his passengers was in the finals. When I told him who, he made up a face. I said not the hippies she came down with, just her with a new band.We went out to the valley in the shuttle bus. Carol and The Down Homers were to go on second. This was a pretty small affair. Most of the bands that had lost went home the day before. There were several people there that looked like pure business types. To me they looked like vultures, waiting to pick up some raw meat. I was glad I had that conversation with the artist I had talked to earlier, and tipped off Carol that they could do better if they took their time about signing.The first band played. The music was adequate, but the vocalist was nervous and started out a little timid. She did gain her confidence and before they were finished, I could understand why they had made it this far.When Carol and The Down Homers were announced, Carol stepped up and just said she was more of a poet than a.
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