Pete Elliot, writer and jazz enthusiast became my best friend at the paper, and often dragged me to smoky clubs, where stereotypical skinny men with g...atees and berets hung out with statuesque brunettes with long long cigarette holders. Everyone dressed in black turtlenecks. I didn't get it.Neither did the real musicians.Pete and I met with many of the most famous jazz musicians of the time. Mostly I just smiled and shook their hands, not really recognizing their names or music, although I. Thanks to Meghan's comment."Hey Mr. D. What's going on?" Meghan asked."Not a lot Meg. Just finishing up some paperwork," I said."Really? Not looking at porn?" She said with a smile.I looked up from my paperwork, a look of shock on my face.Meg giggled."Oh come on Mr. D. You're not all that serious and lame and all that are you?" She said.I looked over her shoulder. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. She turned back around."Come on. I know you're pretty laid back, cool as shit and all. We smelled the smells of nature and of humans. They lodged in the backs of our throats and on our tongues. And when particular pheromones reached us, we took lovers, greedy for their essences to also lodge in our throats and on our tongues.With those tongues, we tasted. We opened our mouths and brought the world into them. We imbibed and consumed. We tasted life and love and youth. Sometimes it was too much and we vomited. But when that happened, our friends held our hair back and nursed us. A sexual frustration which Jenny detected instantly. Jenny marvelled at the transformation of image from the dour woman she’d seen at the meeting, watching her glossy lips move as she attempted to speak.“I ... I...” Though she and Jenny had never exactly seen eye to eye with their opinions in the past, Jenny was more than impressed with her new image, and knew what drove the passion in her, smiling softly as she took her arm.“You’d best come in Martha ... I think I know what you need.” Martha.
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