Free London Broil by Linnet Moss

laughingly, "What are you
     reading? The Story of O ? Delta of Venus ? Dare
     I ask?"

 
    "I've read those
     and didn't find them very exciting, as a matter of fact. But
     yes, I have some erotica that I wouldn't put out on the living
     room shelves. Robert Mapplethorpe, erotic art in Pompeii, that
     sort of thing. I suppose it depends on who's coming over. Nobody
     I know would raise an eyebrow at Delta of Venus . Now
     owning all of the late, great Christopher Hitchens' books--that
     would suggest to most people that you're an atheist."

 
    "Indeed I am. I
     suppose a declaration like that is better received here than in
     the States. One gathers that admitting to being an atheist in
     the US is like admitting to being a pedophile. But I enjoy his
     political essays most."

 
    "Mmm. I love his
     literary criticism and his wit. He said the four most overrated
     things in life are Champagne, lobster, anal sex, and picnics. I
     agree, except for the Champagne. It may be overpriced, but it is
     not overrated."

 
    "Now, I would
     have said that I agree except for the picnics. I fancy an
     occasional déjeuner sur
     l'herbe ."

 
    She smiled,
     thinking of Manet's painting by that name, which depicted a
     completely nude woman lunching outdoors with two fully dressed
     men. "Is that so? If I were a painter, I'd reverse Manet's
     arrangement and show two women friends having a chat while a
     gorgeous man lounged nearby in the altogether."

 
    "I suppose that
     lets me out of being the artist's model," he said, draining the
     rest of his glass.

 
    "Oh, I don't
     know," she said. "I think you're gorgeous, but I'll have to see
     all of you before I can decide for certain."

 
    "That's on the
     menu," he replied, crossing back to the kitchen to retrieve the
     bottle of prosecco. This was the first time she'd had a chance
     to see his rear end, since he usually wore a suit. She approved.
     It was understated, but with a distinct muscular rounding that
     filled out the seat of his jeans. She made a mental note to try
     to see what he looked like in his trousers, next time they went
     out for dinner.

 
    11.Music for Miss Behave

 
    Sipping her wine,
     she moved on to the shelves of music. He had a sizable
     collection of CD's (alphabetized), and on a large lower shelf,
     some vinyl; the stereo included a turntable that looked new. The
     bulk of the CD's were classic blues and jazz with an emphasis on
     the blues: Robert Lockwood Jr. and Bessie Smith, but also Duane
     Allman and Robert Cray. He appeared to be an Eric Clapton
     completist; she noticed Cream and Derek and the Dominoes. Then a
     section of Irish music, but the only group she recognized was
     the Chieftains. The jazz was an eclectic collection, with a
     healthy selection of greats like John Coltrane and Charlie
     Parker. He returned with the bottle and refilled her glass.

 
    "I was just
     about to put something on when you arrived. What's your
     pleasure?"

 
    She caught his
     eye for a couple of extra seconds and smiled before replying, "I
     like jazz and blues, but in the opposite proportion to your
     tastes-- more jazz, less blues. My favorites are standards, and
     West Coast jazz. And I love Coltrane, but only the early stuff.
     His later oeuvre is
     completely over my head."

 
    "You and just
     about everyone else," he said. "Right then. I have Miles Davis
     and Dave Brubeck. How about a classic-- Time Out ?"

 
    "A great album,"
     she said as he opened the CD case. "Dave Brubeck has this gift
     for melody, but also a really staccato approach to the piano.
     Pair that with Paul Desmond's saxophone-- it's breathy, sinuous,
     gentle. They have such perfect chemistry. But I love to listen
     to Desmond without Brubeck. A guilty pleasure. Instead of
     moderation and balance, it's a sensuous indulgence."

 
    "His music turns
     you on?"

 
    "Oh yes. It's an
     old joke, but they really should have called it the sexophone.
     At least when he