Primitive, Male

Disclaimer: I don't own the legal rights to any of these characters or the series featured here, and I acknowledge the legal rights of those who do. I will make no profits from this story.

Note: If you know me personally, you may want to bear in mind that I write these stories as a private hobby. I'm not embarassed by anything I write, but if you think you might be, please turn around now.

Please note: This is actually a sequel to the first Law and Order: Criminal Intent fanfic I wrote - a 14-part thriller (with some romance) called 'Army Fatigues'. I'm not posting it in full here as only one of the chapters, 'Absence of Army Fatigues' has any sex in and that's what we all come here for, after all.
If you want to read it, you can find it here: http://www.fosff.net/viewstory.php?sid=13393 . This fic does make more sense if you read 'Army Fatigues' first, as that story introduces Sienna and tells the tale of how she and Bobby Goren first met (and nearly ended up getting killed in the process).

Anyway, enough introduction. On with the plot!

***

As he staggered up from the bed, buck naked, Bobby Goren winced and was glad his partner was still blissfully asleep. His legs, back, arms and pretty much all of his muscles were reminding him forcibly that he was no longer the twenty-year-old soldier he’d once been, and that if he insisted on running up and down steep cliffs playing the hero, then staying up all night with an energetic and attractive young redhead, he could expect to feel like hell in the morning. He made it across the small bedroom with a few winces and curses along the way, and was glad that the room was warm and that it had an ensuite bathroom, albeit a very basic one. The light through the room’s thin green curtains indicated that it was going to be a gorgeous sunny summer day, the storm that had battered the Army base for the past two nights having finally passed.

On his way out of the tiny bathroom in the temporary Army accommodation they were staying in, he paused and leaned on the doorframe, partly because his legs really were extremely sore for various reasons (well, one in particular), but mainly so that he could admire the woman asleep on the bed in front of him. Sienna Tovitz was fast asleep, snoring gently with her back turned to him, although truth be told it was not her back he was most interested in admiring… she was completely naked and the early morning sunlight through the gap in the curtains was highlighting the curves of her hips and narrow waist, picking out russet highlights in her hair. As he watched, she stirred slightly, looking slightly puzzled and frowning, and feeling around for the covers. She was obviously getting cold. Well, he couldn’t have that.

He hustled back over to the bed and wriggled onto it, wrapping his large body around her small one, spooning behind her and gently working his arm under her head and beneath her neck, so that she was resting against him, cradled in his arms. She smiled faintly, and relaxed against him, once more fast asleep in the position they’d spent much of the night in. Not all though… he let his mind drift back across the past ten hours, beginning with their carefully sneaking into the temporary accommodation the Army had lent them, her room, since hers had a double bed and his didn’t.

His mind moved on to the shower they’d taken together, her giggling as he carefully washed her hair, big hands slick with soap stroking down her neck and shoulders and across her body, him picking her up and carrying her across to the bed, the two of them entwining, warmth and hands and mouths, together in the moonlight from the window, her eagerness in exploring every inch of him… yes, that had been a pleasant discovery. He lived through his own senses in a way that he knew most other people did not, and to be in bed with someone who was not only willing to indulge his exploration of her body, but who seemed to share the same fascination with a new partner, the same keenness to learn every scent, every sensitive place, every little sound or cry of joy rather than just going for the obvious places… mmm yes, a very pleasant night, ending in them sleeping entwined together, her pressing herself against him, tucking his arm over her as if he were a blanket she was trying to wrap round herself for warmth and security. Admittedly he’d wondered once or twice if he was quite doing it for her, but she seemed to be enjoying it… he’d have to carefully check that if they did it again. Very thoroughly indeed, gather the evidence, examine it carefully and check again if required…

He was distantly aware that there was a world out there. Specifically, an Army base which the two of them would have to leave shortly, after first presumably having breakfast with Sienna’s boss, Tim Whitefield, yes, that was going to be interesting. Not their other temporary colleague, Andrew Davenport, though. Bobby always slept lightly in a strange room, and at one point during the night he’d awoken to hear familiar footsteps pattering along the corridor outside their room, footsteps that had obviously been made by someone about six feet tall (as indicated by the length of stride), thin for his height (as indicated by the lightness of the steps) and in pain from injured ribs and probably the hangover from hell (as indicated by frequent pauses to lean against the wall). He also remembered Sienna stirring awake, murmuring that she’d heard someone outside, and when he’d reassured her, her muttering “Davenport, you nosy bastard, go catch your flight back to England” and going to sleep.

She had a point there; the British spy had definitely paused for longer than he probably needed to outside Sienna’s room, probably listening to hear if he could pick up two people breathing inside the room. Bobby chuckled at Sienna’s reaction, whilst admitting that he’d probably have done the same thing himself through sheer ingrained curiosity. He wrapped himself more tightly around her, forgetting the world outside entirely in the sheer pleasure of a warm, breathing, female body in his arms. He hadn’t felt like this, this abandonment of his continual awareness of the world around him, mind busy with the next problem to solve, next case to tackle, for a very long time, even in his most recent encounters with women. Why now? Why her?

Because you’ve dropped your guard, he realised wryly. Normally, it was easy to keep these things simple, uncomplicated. He’d never found it that difficult to find women who were after exactly the same thing he was, uncomplicated pleasure, simple, enjoyable, maybe breakfast together afterwards, but always understood on both sides that it would never be a serious thing, all surface, no involvement. The mating dance, twenty-first century style, and no bad thing for all that.

What had happened between him and Sienna had been totally different. In twenty-four hours, they’d met, tentatively forged a working relationship, found themselves plunged into a situation neither of them had expected and forced to work together, first to save innocent lives, then to save their own and their colleagues from the rogue CIA agent Daniel Smith. He’d found himself admiring her quick mind, her ability to think on her feet, and later, in that wretched Jeep ride back to the base, her undoubted attractiveness. She might never be called beautiful – her features weren’t quite fine enough – but that curvy figure, pleasant face and instantly-obvious intelligence and humour added up to a very tempting combination. And when she’d propositioned him… well, he’d spent that evening wondering if she would, or if she’d just decide that it wasn’t a good idea, and when she’d finally worked up the nerve to ask him to kiss her… primitive instinct had taken over on both sides. For sheer physical pleasure, it had been a very enjoyable night indeed, but physical pleasure alone wasn’t usually enough to induce this state of relaxedness in him, this urge to just lie there and watch his partner sleep without any desire to wake her, or get up and do something. Part of it was tiredness, but… but…

But… all the sex in the world, he reflected, no matter how pleasurable or frantic or physically intense, could quite satisfy the need to wake up and find the woman you’d slept with in your arms, to look at her and reflect that she would still be there the next day, and the day after that, onward and onward. Usually, when he thought that, he’d just push it away from him with a flip comment, like Yeah, but if I had that I’d be late to work every morning, or Yeah, that would last up until I came home late from working with Eames on a tough case for the fifth time that week and found a note saying she’d run off with the pizza delivery guy. He’d push it away because it would be too painful to take it seriously, even though now, more than ever, it was nagging at him. Usually he could do that, but the sheer unexpectedness and intensity of the last ten hours had knocked his mind off course, and he was unable to stop his thoughts running along tracks he usually avoided.

Closing his eyes for a few seconds, he thought thoughts that he normally never allowed into his head, usually keeping them locked safely away. Whoever said men had no biological clock… didn’t know the first thing about men. He was only too aware that if he ever wanted children, he was fast approaching the age when he’d better have them, or risk getting too old to see them grown up. He was equally aware that, bluntly, he was also reaching the stage where most women his own age would either struggle to have children naturally, would already have them and not want to go through the whole thing again, or would have never wanted them in the first place.

If he ever wanted children… who was he kidding? He could never risk it, never risk passing on the illness that had taken his mother from him, or, perhaps worse, risk starting a family and then having it strike him, doing to his children knowingly what had been done to him unwittingly. The alternatives flitted through his head… you could find a woman with children, someone you loved, whose kids you could raise as your own… donor father, physically like you, but without the flaws in your genes… you could adopt… but he always pushed them away, thinking no time for that, I’d have to give up my job, not fair on them… never quite acknowledging to himself that the same arguments applied to having children of his own. Why on earth was he thinking this now, anyway?

His subconscious, which appeared to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed, replied You’re holding a beautiful naked young woman with curves that would probably have inspired a new fertility cult in more primitive times, who’s just let you make love to her three times in ten hours, and who would by now probably be carrying your child if it weren’t for the twin wonders of latex and the Pill. Why do you think, Bobby boy? Hmmph. Right, from now on he was concentrating purely on the here and now, useless thoughts of the future, families and fertility pushed aside. That left him lying there naked, holding a naked woman, in a borrowed bed with the distant sounds of an Army base waking up in the background and most of his muscles aching. If he ignored the aching muscles and indeed everything but the mutual nakedness, he could actually feel very satisfied at Sienna’s relaxedness, her warmth, even her trust in him. She was so very much smaller than he, although admittedly pretty much every woman he’d ever been to bed with had been. But even so, it was very satisfying, holding her like this, protecting her, almost.

Yes, there was a certain primitive satisfaction in that feeling of masculine protectiveness, he thought. Not very politically correct, of course. In his everyday life, Eames would kick his ass in about three seconds if she ever suspected he was ‘protecting’ her, assuming that, because she merely happened to be less physically strong than he, that she was in some way less capable. Sienna, too, probably… she was so very concerned to prove herself in what was still in many ways a man’s world, particularly when it came to positions of responsibility. But still, there you were, male instinct was strong and right now it was saying “hold this woman, keep her warm and let her feel safe”. To judge by her sleepy, relaxed body, he was doing that just fine.

He glanced down at her and noticed the bite mark on her shoulder, memento of their first coupling in the Army storehouse, with a slight wince. He knew he should probably feel ashamed about that, but in all truth, he felt more ashamed of the fact that he felt no shame about it at all, that part of him was inwardly shouting to any other males she might happen to meet in the next few days, “You see that, huh? You see that? My woman. Mine. Already taken. Keep your hands off, she’s already got a mate, oh yes, and I don’t share well with others.” Ridiculous, of course, but there you were. If sex ever made sense, his job would be infinitely easier, if probably a lot more boring.

He let his eyes roam freely over her sleeping form, revealed to him clearly now in the daylight, not glimpsed by dim storehouse bulb or moonlight or fluorescent bathroom striplight. He noticed with interest that she didn’t seem to shave at all, fine downy red hair across her arms and legs. He smiled with amusement; it made her look like nothing so much as a small marmalade cat, curling up in the warmth for a nap. She had the green eyes for it too, and yes, she certainly did purr if stroked in the right way. He looked at her figure next. It represented an interesting cross between, on the one hand, an obvious commitment to exercise and health (strong, toned arms and legs, clear skin under all those freckles, soft glossy red hair) and, on the other, genetics and probably a slight fondness for donuts and refined carbohydrates (soft curves of hip and breast, ever-so-slightly rounded belly and what she’d probably call cellulite, and what a man would call nice womanly thighs).

She must have gone through a growth spurt when she was younger, he mused, fingers lightly trailing across her hips and back, tracing the fine silvery stretch lines, imaging that waist narrowing, legs lengthening, hips and butt rounding out, developing those beautiful full breasts that fit nicely into the palms of his hands…

She stirred awake, mumbling roughly, “So, are you going to look at me all morning, or do you think you could pick me out of the ID parade yet?” She wriggled slightly, turning towards him and rolling onto her back, looking him in the face with slightly puffy, sleepy eyes, and a look of faint satisfaction mixed with hunger. Well, he was certainly ready for a repeat performance; his leg muscles might be sore, but the rest of him was in full working order.

“We don’t usually do our ID parades naked,” he replied, and was gratified to see her giggle, and wriggle further over and into his embrace. Her mouth came up to join his, first kiss of the morning, and never mind the fact that he hadn’t shaved and neither of them had showered, their scent in the bedclothes and the air around them. Her hands moved over him, finding some of the spots she’d learned he liked to have touched the night before… he gently moved her into the same position they’d been in before, spooning together, her body pinned ever so gently in place by the strength of his much larger body wrapped around her. He began to stroke her now, teasing her, finding the same places he’d explored the night before. He retrieved her hand from his belly, where she was carrying out her own exploration – extremely enjoyable, but distracting. He was beginning to work his way up from her waist to her breasts, those tiny sensitive nipples, when he had to stop and do the same thing again. Possibly he should roll onto his back and let her take the lead, but she looked so adorable and alluring, curled in his embrace like that, and besides it was so very enjoyable to pleasure her, her little moans of enjoyment sending thrills through him with the same intensity that her touch would evoke.

He was about to drop his mouth to her ear and nibble softly when he noticed a slight… well, not a frown, but some tension in her expression. Her body was responding to him just fine, but there was something not quite right here. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“Oh… nothing.” She pressed herself back against him, wriggling her hips just slightly in what was obviously an attempt, though maybe not intentional, to distract him. It was working, but he could not relax and enjoy it when there was obviously something bothering her. His mind flashed through the usual fears: fear of pregnancy, maybe worse? Well, if she was telling the truth about the Pill, it wasn’t a risk, and they’d been careful every time, even though both of them had a clean bill of health. Boyfriend back home? He could be wrong, but she simply did not seem the type to blithely jump into bed with him if there was someone waiting in the wings back in the Ukraine.

“There’s obviously something bothering you… am I doing something you don’t like?”

“No! No, not at all, it’s just fine, wonderful, please keep going…”

Hmm. That had been said with a slight air of desperation, fear even, and her breathing had speeded up. He’d obviously said something that triggered off bad memories. He ran back over what they’d been doing…

“You know, I enjoy… doing this for you,” he ventured, carefully keeping his words slightly vague, sensing that anything too explicit might cause her to clam up completely. “You have no idea how much…” and then he stopped. Her nods of agreement might have fooled another man, but to someone with his perceptiveness, they were obviously routine, too eager to please. Not good. Not a good sign.

At the back of his mind, a small selfish part of him was wondering We’ve known each other less than two days, and already we’re having the difficult conversations?

His subconscious replied sharply: Well, if you’d dated first, it would have probably added up to the same number of hours, less probably, given how keenly most women throw themselves at you, whatsamatter, think all women should just melt into a pool of hormones at the charm of the great Bobby Goren? Besides, the time to think about how long you’d known her was BEFORE you decided to jump her bones on top of a pile of packing crates. Sack up, and be a man.

She was looking at him intently now, those great intelligent green eyes assessing his reactions, mingled intelligence and wariness… and, he could see now, fear. Not physical fear, but mental fear. Somewhere along the line, someone had upset her deeply during sex. Not enough to put her off it completely… she’d been keen to get him into bed last night (the keenness of a self-enforced drought, perhaps?), but enough that now the first rush of lust was over, she was protecting herself, putting her guard back up. He experienced a sincere and deep desire to find out the name and address of her last boyfriend, and go beat the hell out of him for doing this to her.

Instinctively, he moved into thinking-out-loud mode. “You enjoy me touching you.” An eager nod. “But you don’t like me to do it for too long before you want to start… doing something for me, right?” Another wary nod. “Why not? No, no, let me see if I understand, please… you’re worried I’ll think you’re being selfish.” A single nod, and downcast eyes. “I don’t think you’re being selfish.” Still not the happy response he was after. There was another problem here. Time to take a flyer and see if he could guess right.

“You don’t want to relax and let me pleasure you… not just because you’re worried I’ll think you’re being selfish, but because you’re afraid… come on, help me out a little here?” He already had a good idea, but coming across as the omniscient Detective Goren probably wasn’t such a great idea right now, it might drive her away completely. Come on, Sienna, be brave, I’ve seen you do it…

She took a deep breath, obviously deciding to hell with it. “I’m afraid that I’ll relax and go with it and I still won’t come, no matter how hard you try to make me.”

Try to make her? That’s it, her ex-boyfriend was undoubtedly a piece of scum. Bobby would have been glad to have him pulled over and thrown in the cells on a Saturday night. Scratch that. Make it New Year’s Day, just around four in the morning, when the bars were throwing out, and the cells were full of drunks and violence. How could any man be that insensitive? Expect her to perform like a seal? Expect her to respond automatically, without bothering to learn what she liked, to let her take the lead… ah.

“You didn’t have a problem with that the first time we were together,” he said, very gently, and hoping very hard that he was right and she hadn’t been faking… but no, he’d felt her response around him that time.

“Being honest? I’d been thinking about you all day, about what you looked like naked, out of those fatigues, big hands all over me… I’d probably have come if you’d just BREATHED in the right place.”

Ah, there was the Sienna he’d come to know. “But not just that… you liked being on top, right? See, I have a theory…” He settled onto his back, one hand gesturing in the air, and was pleased to see her turn onto her side, regarding him with an expression of mixed interest and amusement. “It’s easy for men, right? We can just climb on top, stick it in… kind of hard for your partner to object, you can set the rhythm, bury your head against her shoulder, she doesn’t have to see you come, doesn’t have to see you vulnerable, I mean, you might not even know each other all that well?” She was nodding along to this with vehement agreement. Ex-boyfriend. Piece of scum. Right. “But it’s more difficult for women… you’re not designed to come in the same way, sometimes it happens like that, but sometimes you need to take the lead, need to just focus on what does it for you… but it’s hard to do that when someone’s watching? Someone who doesn’t always know what you like, but expects that what he’s doing is doing it for you, wants to watch, gets off on doing it to you, not for you, so he can feel like God’s gift, like some big stud… am I on the right lines here?”

She nodded, and took another deep breath. “Yeah. Sorry, I don’t think you’re like that…” he waved a hand dismissively, she continued… “It’s just… I kind of know what I need you to do. I just feel guilty bossing you around like that, telling you what to do, or using you, rubbing myself against you, like you’re some thing just there for my pleasure….”

Jesus. “You’re not using me. Was I using you, when I came inside you that first time, holding you on top of me, biting your shoulder?”

“Hell no. I loved every minute of that, knowing what you were feeling, knowing I was doing that for you, even if you were kind of taking the lead there… I loved it. It’s more than just physical…” her voice trailed off, but he knew what she was saying. So, we have here a woman who knows what she likes, but whose last boyfriend liked to keep control every minute, never letting her take the lead or tell him what she liked, or made her feel guilty when she did, who saw her pleasure as a reflection on his skills, stroking his ego... Did this guy have a small dick, was he a complete asshole, or was he just young and had no idea? Well, anyway, that line of thought wasn’t useful right now.

“Right. So you know what it’s like, just enjoying letting your partner take the lead, knowing that they’ll let you take your turn later… and you know, don’t you, that I don’t mind if you tell me what to do? I know you want me to enjoy it, and believe me, I will, I know what does it for me and it’s not difficult. Stop worrying so much.” Had he overstepped the mark there? No, apparently not. She was looking at him with an expression of dawning relief and joy, and his response was all too obvious to both of them. To judge by the sudden sparkle in her eyes, she was feeling the same way.

He let his voice drop to a purr, moving closer, making his desire for her more obvious. “You were pulling away when I was touching you… just like this, where you couldn’t move away. Let me guess again… you LIKE feeling a little bit helpless, as long as you know that when you need to, you can just focus on you, tell me exactly what I need to do…” a soft moan and an oh-so-deliciously lewd wriggle of her hips. “Very common fantasy that, most women love it, probably a lot of men too, but I’m not interested in finding THAT out…” another giggle, and she turned onto her side, back in the position they’d been in, her pinned in place by his strength, his body wrapped around her. “So you know what? I’m not going to give you any choice in the matter. Just one proviso; you tell me to stop and I’ll stop, you tell me what to do and I’ll do it. And don’t even think about saying What about you?, because believe me, I’m going to enjoy doing this.”

Very gently, he took hold of her hands, guided them, holding both of her wrists in the hand of his arm that was under her head. She was arching against him openly now, rubbing against him, giving in to her natural desires, just as she should have been all along, if her stupid ex-boyfriend hadn’t made her think that all men were automatically repelled by a woman who took her pleasure as instinctively and joyfully as men normally took theirs. His free hand ran over her hips and across the front of her body, pausing to find the sensitive spots there, then up and to her breasts, teasing her as long as he could before it turned into torment for her, then leaning over just a little to draw the nearest one into his mouth, relishing her cries of pleasure (much more uninhibited now, much more natural and less like she was trying to sound alluring whilst experiencing some of the most primitive sensations known to humanity; yet again, he cursed the ex-boyfriend).

Her legs were open, sweet musky scent filling the air, and he realised with a shock that they’d better be careful; he was near the edge himself and had very nearly just given in to the temptation to take her there and then; he’d have to resist that, it obviously wasn’t quite what she needed just now. He took care of that, then pulled her back against him, harder than before, pushing himself between her legs so that she could rub against him, noting with delight that she was finding her own rhythm, that she was very well tuned in to what she needed, and now that she knew he didn’t mind her ignoring his responses for a while in order to focus on hers, she was moving against him perfectly, her muscles tensing, obviously beginning the spiral towards orgasm. He moved up against her, slowing his own rhythm just slightly, enough to keep her where she was without causing her to lose the momentum, murmuring into her ear, “What did I say earlier? You know what you want, so tell me… is this it, sweetheart? This what you want me to do?”

“Yes… no…please, Bobby, please, please don’t stop…”

“What do you want? Go on, say it out loud…”

“You, between my legs. NOW.”

“Ah, ah… which bit of me?”

No hesitation. “Your mouth.”

With the same suddenness as before, he let go of her hands and moved swiftly back down the bed, turning her onto her back, burying his mouth between her thighs, tongue working across her clitoris, her response immediate and more powerful than before…

He felt her hands grasp his shoulders, her legs and back arching against him, and even now, he realised, she was still keeping some control, but this was necessary control, restraining herself from grasping the back of his head. He appreciated that even as he reached up to gently hold one of her hands with his, taking care not to make eye contact, not this time, allow her the privacy she obviously needed to reach orgasm, nearly there, very nearly… he sensed that she needed him to slow down a little, not quite there yet… then, almost before he knew it himself, they were moving together, his mouth, her body in perfect harmony, her thrusting against him, rubbing herself against him in sheer abandon, and with incredible pleasure he heard her cry out softly, her body rigid for a long minute, throbbing under his mouth, waves of orgasm breaking across her body.

She reached a hand down and lifted his face up slightly, making eye contact, and he caught his breath at the naked invitation in those eyes. Almost before he knew it, he was on top of her, sinking into her with one powerful thrust, all the way in, she was warm and ready for him and her hips rose up to meet him. He was never normally this quick, but there was no need for him to delay, no need to do anything but finally give in to his desires, just as he’d encouraged her to give in to hers, almost before he knew it his cries had joined hers, as uninhibited as she’d been, abandoned to his needs and his pleasure and his body taking control of his mind, utter, utter physical pleasure, more intense than ever before…

They lay there like that for a long minute, him simply collapsed on top of her, breathing together. Finally he managed to raise his head long enough to look her in the eye, and he could almost see her thoughts, the utter joy she’d felt in taking her own pleasure, using him with his glad consent, then reciprocating, giving him pleasure in turn, no longer burdened by having to shore up her partner’s ego… and yes, there was a certain delicious smugness in there too, she was not so young or inexperienced not to realise the power she had over him, not to relish the thought that she could inspire him to worship her as he just had, that despite her smaller stature, she could be the one in control. Oh, that promised some fun later, so many games they could play, what a combination, the joy in guiding her towards her pleasure and in encouraging that delightfully wicked streak in her….

“You’ve got to come back to New York,” he murmured, holding her just a little closer, feeling her heartbeat still racing against his chest.

She looked him straight in the eyes, and he inwardly grinned to see the familiar Sienna returning to him for good, that wry humorous smile, that “I know what I think and I WILL stand up for it” determination in those sparkling green eyes.

“I can’t, not this weekend. I’d like to, believe me… but it won’t go down at all well with Tim Whitefield if I say that I’d like to fly back with him to the East European language translation division and start our debriefing following the end of the Shorokogat operation, but sadly I have to stay in New York and screw Bobby Goren’s brains out.”

He laughed to hear her say that, her giggles joining his, then she took a deep breath. “But I WILL come to New York soon. Within the next month, one way or the other.”

He couldn’t resist smiling, a wide, relaxed, joyous smile he rarely ever used. Suddenly, she sprang up from the bed, still naked and with the traces of their lovemaking across her skin… “I’m hungry. Let’s go shower, and go eat.” She held out a hand, and he took it, not needing it, but letting her pull him up from the bed, rising onto his feet and towering over her, following her to the shower where she was already rooting through her bag, hunting for soap and shampoo.

For the first time in years, all concerns forgotten, he felt like singing.

Author’s Notes: This turned out way more explicit than I was expecting. But sometimes, your characters just run away with you.

I blame Vincent D’Onofrio. He’s too damn sexy for any straight woman’s good.

In the interests of fairness, Sienna’s ex-boyfriend does not represent any actual male I’ve known, rather the personification of the effects of watching too much bad porn and the absence of actual honesty about real sex and women’s needs in our culture, IMHO. Bobby, of course, is too smart and too much of a gentleman to suffer from any of that.

Soundtrack: Not original, but I was listening to Maroon 5’s ‘Sunday Morning’ and ‘This Love’ (album = ‘Songs About Jane’), then Embrace’s ‘A Glorious Day’ (album = ‘Out of Nothing’) in more or less that order when writing this. All other suggestions for appropriate songs welcome.