The girl giggled and Greg smiled back. She’d be all right if she stopped giggling like a teenager. She was at least twenty. He’d known right off that she had a great body under her punk clothes and she was more than willing to go home with him after the concert. Most girls played up to songwriters. And they all wanted a special song dedicated to them. Greg lit another candle and placed it in the ring around the bed. It did look rather like the inside of a church, with all the votive candles in a circle. The girl thought it was kinky, and that was fine with him. She had been very eager to shed her clothes and play in the firelight. “Do you want another glass of bubbly, Greggie?” She ran one gold-tipped nail down the inside of his leg, and Greg nodded. It was easier than trying to remember her name. Sherry, Shelly, something like that. Her little-girl act was annoying, but he hadn’t brought her up here for conversation. To be entirely honest, he hadn’t been after sex, either.
