He remembered going from one club to another and dancing in a crowd, the music pounding out, the smell of sweat, and the taste of beer on his tongue. ...here was lots of woman and laughter, the swirl of movement, lots more drinking and then the occasional wisp of a memory of sex. Of breasts, of the taste of sex, of losing himself in the tension as it built and the relief as he came. But the woman next to him….he couldn’t remember her. Suddenly he heard the door open and another woman walked into. Miguel was naked except for a white towelaround his waist, he was dark-skinned and well muscled; he had theobligatory biker tattoos and fair share of scars on his body to match thethin scar running down his left cheek. His long black hair was still wetand hung to his shoulders, small droplets of water sparkled in themorning light before dropping onto his shoulder.Cassie smiled up at him coyly, acutely aware that her hair wasdishevelled, her makeup smudged and that she was dressed only. More

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