It was so easy for some people to say, but I knew he didn’t mean it. “You’re fantastic, Wilcox Spiggott. Oh, I think my house key fell out of my purse at your place. Could you look for it?”

“Ah, I found a key on the table. Thought you had left it for me.”

“We’re not at that stage yet. Would you like me to pick you up at the airport?”

“I’ll hire an Avis car so I can hit the beach straightaway. How about dinner tomorrow night?”

“Perfect. I know just the place.” I gave him the name and address of a groovy restaurant-lounge before we said good-bye.

I had a lot to do before seeing Wil again. I got a mani-pedi with polish the color of crushed blackberries. I went to a fancy butcher shop and bought meat dripping with blood, as well as fresh blood. I picked up deep red California cabernets, baskets of raspberries, strawberries, and loganberries, and bottles of blood orange juice.

I visited the Womyn’s Sexual Health Collective to buy “relationship accessories” for Wil’s visit. While I waited for a sales clerk, I read over a poster titled “Does It Itch?” for the local free clinic.

A gray-haired sales counselor with a cozy round tummy and little gold-rimmed glasses was happy to give me advice for buying restraints. “For you?”

“No, for my friend. I’m the one in control.”

She smiled and said, “Sweetie, the bottom is always the one who controls.” She suggested a beginner’s kit of soft, black velvet-covered ropes and said, “If you want to stock up, we’re having a two-for-one sale on lubricants and all our eco-friendly fetish toys are ten percent off.”

“Uh, well, um …” I was about to giggle like a schoolgirl when I saw the fuzzy pink handcuffs I’d bought when I was engaged to Oswald. I’d thought the cuffs would prevent me from hurting Oswald when he tried to taste my blood. Oswald and I never got to use them, though.

The sales counselor saw me staring at the handcuffs. “Those are one of our bestsellers in bondage play.”

“People never handcuff me for fun. The last time I got cuffed, someone was trying to kill me,” I said, finally managing to shock her.

“Oh, dear! I can show you an easy trick to open handcuffs. All you need is a bobby pin or paper clip.”

“I don’t plan on being cuffed anytime soon.”

She laid a hand on my arm. “Not to preach, sweetie, but in my experience, which is extensive, you should learn to be prepared for anything. Why don’t you sign up for our BDSM workshop? Everyone raves about it. If you join our Toy Club for fifty dollars, you can attend free and you’ll also get fifteen percent off every purchase.”

“I’ll just take the restraints and the club membership, thanks.”