Like ours, their quartet was half white, half black. They drove us into the mountains, and we climbed. Their first violinist, black Milton, leading th... way. When I say leading, he was lengths ahead of us. Athletic, hardly taller than Jocelyn, but built like a lean Marathon runner, he floated up the mountain like a bird, in spite of carrying the video equipment, his violin, and a cello. This last belonged to the white girl of the quartet, a round, cheery-faced girl who looked to be the quartet's. Just as I think it is time to go there's a knock on my door. "Come in," I say and then I look up to see you enter, smiling as always and shutting the door behind you. "Can I help you Matthew?" I say as you walk round my desk. You turn me on my chair and pull me up and to you, pulling me against your chest. Before I know it you’re kissing me and your tongue is slipping into my mouth. My brain suddenly kicks in and I stop kissing you and try to pull away. "Matthew, we shouldn't be doing this. More

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