The sheets always find us somewhere in between, our sweat so sweet and slick in the afternoon hour. You’re a bad, bad boy, gazing from between cigarettes, and you instantly have me at the mere suggestion. Your eyes hold me within their power, and your body, long and lean, tower over me like architecture in the rain: The most natural of all showers. I shall not tell your secret that you are a bad, bad boy, and that you til...