Fred had the woman sit on his lap, his fingers daring to explore beneath the soft fabric of her skirt. She caught his wandering hand, her voice a blend of reprimand and invitation, "Not here, Mr. Turner. Eyes are upon us."

He inhaled deeply, the perfume enveloping her was rich and unfamiliar, a stark contrast to Mya's subtle fragrance.

Fred was a man whose interest waned with the moon; no woman ever marked more than a week in his orbit before he found them as forgettable as the last.

As if o