Paris Nights. There was nothing garish about the club, at least not outside. There were potted palm trees and the facade had a Moorish look to it, wit... an arched entryway, heavy doors with wrought iron grills, and, above, slot windows and balconies. French Algeria, Morocco, Casablanca, Rick and Ilsa, We’d never set foot inside, of course, but word got around in suburbia. It was supposed to be the classiest lesbian bar in the city. Two men paced slowly in front of the building. They were dressed. In fact, it was much, much bigger than yours." You cow! Did you have to say it like that?" You asked. And it's true." You know that time I met him... when you asked him in... after he'd run you home..." I remember." "Had he fucked you before bringing you home?" Not just then." When then? Was it at lunchtime? Did you go up to the woods and do it there?" No. You know we didn't. Not that time. I've told you before, on that day it was in the morning. I didn't have my car, and I'd asked him if he'd. More

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