“I have another talent—I run like a deer, and nobody, but nobody, catches me.”

“Where’d you get in such good shape?” She poked him in the belly. “Hard as a rock.”

“In a prison gym. There wasn’t anything else to do. How ’bout you, babe? What’s your game?”

“Whatever works. I like trains, ’cause you can always get off before somebody tumbles and misses his stuff. I’ve done it on the run a couple of times and walked a few miles to get another ride. Mostly, though, I leave ’em on the platform, having made a dinner date—one I never keep. By dinnertime, he’s changed his pants and missed his wallet.”

“Where are you based?”

“Down South, where the sun always shines.”

“And where do you lay your head, here in the Apple?”

“Is that an offer?”

“Could be. Are you always so hot to trot, Maria?”

“Could be. What’d you have in mind?”

“You name it, I love it.”

“A man after my own heart. You got a place in town?”

“I do. It’s a fifteen-minute cab ride this time of day.”

She tossed off her scotch. “What’re we waiting for?”

He knocked back his own drink, left another ten on the bar, grabbed her case, and led her to a cab. She gave him half a blow job on the way uptown. Best not to wear him out too soon, leave him wanting more.

—

SOFIA/MARIA EASED OUT of the bed and used the john, then she grabbed a robe off a hook, rolled up the sleeves, and had a look around. A one-bedroom with a king-sized bed, a kitchenette, a sleeper sofa with a biggish TV across the room—the basics, but not bad. Curly was pretty much in that category, too; she had only to test his stamina. This place was good for three or four days before she dumped him and took a train somewhere. She hadn’t done a Chicago run for a while, and she usually had good luck going west. A hundred in the pocket of a conductor kept him sweet and dumb, when the cops questioned him. She watched the evening news and read the Daily News, which was on the coffee table, then she went back to the bedroom, dropped the robe, got into bed, and took his balls in her hand.

Curly stirred. “What’s that I feel?” he mumbled.

“Your balls in my hand,” she said. “You up for another run?”

“You read my mind,” he said.

“Oh, are these where you keep your mind?” She gave them a little squeeze and got the correct response.

He rolled over on her. “Put it wherever you like,” he said.

And she did.

—

CURLY MADE A GOOD BREAKFAST, the mark of a man alone. He made soft, scrambled eggs, microwave bacon, an English muffin, fresh orange juice, and very strong coffee. “Getcha anything else?”