On impulse I lean forward to lick the side of his sweaty neck. He shudders, again, but his shudder somehow transforms itself into a giggle. He’s tic...lish in spots and I know where they are.My tongue finds his salt, his sweet, mixed together in a way that is his alone. I’d know his taste anywhere, night or day.He’s sweaty and he’s sticky yet his taste is clean, his aroma strong but not foul.Take him, the devil on my shoulder whispers, but to my ear it is a shout. Take him now.His eyes are open. "I had no idea ... not an inkling ... it simply never occurred to me in any life that the Lakes produced such a phenomenon. I understood it from the Caribbean, plankton disturbed by the wake ... but here? Fresh water?Stretching out behind the stern was a double blue line. Phosphorescence in Lake Michigan? The two lines were straight as an arrow and bright enough to illuminate the low foggy mist. I slipped on the spoke cup and Grace, pulling my arms around her for what warmth I could give her,. More

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