Once he had found, in one of the town's most exclusive houses, a beautiful young girl with the same smooth cafe au lait skin and much the same slender... sensuous build as Marcy, and he had thought to himself that here he could rid himself of his foolish obsession. Now, he told himself, he could prove that Marcy, like this girl, was nothing more than just another attractive mulatto who fucked exceptionally well.He had sat for a few moments with the madam, a still-beautiful if well-worn courtesan. The old me, the pre-Genie me, would have denied andobfuscated. The new me was fine with them.I walked a few feet, through the gap in the bannister, and out onto thesand, wine glass in my hand. My heels sunk down, of course, which madeforward progress harder, and I bent over to slip them off.Then I heard a deep voice, from nearby."Is it still warm?"The voice had enormous depth to it, and clarity. It was experienced,and velvety, and had a slight throb to it. It cut through all thebackground. More

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