and looking up at him, at that thirty-year-old beauty, towering above him, handsome like the devil, with black hair rakishly widow’s-peaked in the center of his forehead, darting black eyes that sometimes looked at you, a round cherubic face protected by a full, short, neat, black beard, biceps the wonderful size of smooth, firm, elongated honeydews, under which resided Fred’s favorite spot, those beautiful armpits, soft, wispily fluffy, nice-smelling of Dial soap, and that rest of his body, a personal
