«Can it, David,» the well-built young blonde shot back irritably. «Step on the gas, will you, I said I wanted to get out of here. How about a couple of beers at Scottie's?»

He threw the gearshift into first and popped the clutch in a howl of burning rubber. «Scottie's?» he inquired over the raucous din of the finely-tuned roadster. «What made you decide that? We haven't been to Scottie's since the night we met. I thought you didn't like the place.»

«Well, that was yesterday and today's today. Now I'd like to have a beer at Scottie's. And then maybe over to your place.»

David did not need any further hints; Lucy was strangely eager to get into bed today, and whatever the reason, he was game. Lucy was the kind of dish some men lived all their lives without once ever having, and she was his for the taking! «Okay, baby, Scottie's it is. And then my place for dessert, right?» he said with a knowing chuckle.

Lucy turned her head and looked at him blankly. «Don't joke about it, David. I need it today, that's all … I need you!»

David pressed the accelerator a bit closer to the floorboards; he'd never seen her quite like this. And Lucy to practically ask for it. Damn that was almost unthinkable! He glanced to be sure she was looking away and then used the heel of his palm to press down the eager erection that was already bulging in his tight Levi's.

* * * * *

The cramped walk-up studio that he rented was, as usual, in need of a woman's touch. Food from meals already digested and forgotten lay hardening in the sunlight that glared in from outside. This place had little to say for it, but its Southern exposure was its one redeeming point. Even in the dead of winter, there was more sun here than in most penthouses. The one large room was papered floor to ceiling with rock posters from the sixties; David had lived in San Francisco then and was, as he told it somewhat sketchily, somehow loosely connected with the defunct Avalon ballroom.