I've found myself an empty room, escaping the party sweat and Euro beat.

A "tink, tink" teases the patio door. I find a pink-haired pixie, obviously naked under her gossamer gown.

"I'm a present for Jimmy!"

"Oh. Yeah. That's me." Answering her look, I add, "Short for... ah... Jemima."

Guiding her in, I step out of my slacks, spreading myself on the couch.

"Cool," she giggles and kneels between. "You smell pretty."

I lean back into the damask as her tongue snake-dances my clit and her fingers pluck and probe.

Which leaves the question open.

Who the hell is Jimmy?