"That's right." He kept grinning. "Who'd you want to see?"She removed her glasses. Her eyes were a limpid aquamarine. "You're not Pete Hinshaw, are yo...?" Her lips curved invitingly."No, I ain't. That's my brother." Cal was visually caressing the lissome lengths of the girl's sleekly stockinged legs. The hem of her miniskirt was almost lap-high."Is he around?" the redhead asked."Yeah. He's out at the barn, most likely." I wonder if you'd be good enough to call him." Sure. Uh, who shall I say. Something light and tart tasting, which she explained to be a Moselle wine and which worked wonders on my parched throat. She didn't talk much at all, only to offer me some more to eat or to drink or to ask me to pass this or the other condiment. Nevertheless it was very pleasant, the various aromas unbelievable and, since it was only the second time in my life that I was able to eat as much as my stomach would hold, totally satisfying. As long as I live I will not forget the taste of the very. More

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