(Dark glasses in place? Good, let’s begin…)

It was a cool and breezy afternoon when he breezed in through the open door. He appeared cool and open to all who peered at him. When he spoke, however, there was a slight chill in his voice. A coolness which bespoke of an anxiety-ridden past. Anxiously, the hotel manager tried to fill his every need. He did not want to try the man’s patience. As though noticing this, the man patiently waited the elevator’s arrival on the ground floor. Just then, a beautiful rich female arrived. She was richly attired in designer clothes. Instantly the man, though tired, had designs on her ample funds. She was an ample woman with big boobs. The elevator operator, however turned out to be a bigger boob as he could not get the elevator in motion. There was a motion by the hotel staff, however, which declared the author to be the biggest boob in all known history. Or, did they say that she had the biggest boobs in history? Ah, well, that I’m afraid will remain a mystery.

“Spanner, please,” he said as he flailed with his hand outside the bonnet; his head inside.

I toddled from the stoop and found it for him. The hand took it greedily and disappeared to join the head.

“How would you go about describing smoke?” I ventured. I couldn’t see any response, but there was a sudden, brief cessation of tinkering.

“What the hell kind of question is that?” he said finally, petulantly.

I shrugged. “I was just thinking about it.”

And then he pulled his head out and screwed his eyes into focus. “… about describing smoke?”

“About how to go about describing smoke.” I told him, secretly very pleased.

He hesitated a minute, then leaned inside the motorcar again. “You are a queer boy.”

She had black cloud-hair that billowed and played invitingly in the light and water-well eyes that pooled back black over a glistening sun-smile. She wore see-through stockings that made her legs slick rivers flowing out of a slick fish-patterened silk dress which caught the breeze and undulated waves across her belly and ass. The dress clung to her cliff-hips, smoothed by centuries of pounding waves and it ruffled against her mermaid breasts.

She grasped me at the waist and a kiss splashed warmth across my neck. Wanted to hold her, slip naked between cold sheets, swim my nose through her hair, feel her salty breath-breeze linger in my ears, breathe my belly against her skin and sink my body with a gasp slowly in… to drown my soul in her ocean ghost… to loll drunkenly in the tropical sea…

When Suzanne spoke, however, it all water-falled out