He was glad for the adoration of the goths. He appreciated the sex even more, their limber, athletic, tattooed bodies and their eagerness for kink. But he had been married once, to a woman who used a glass and put things away when she was done, who read the paper in the morning, and he missed their talk. It was grown-up talk. She hadn’t been a stripper. She didn’t believe in fortune-telling. It was grown-up companionship.
