Merely by opening his mouth, the jester penetrated me everywhere. His pants hung indecently low, baring the shadows of his hipbones, which sloped into the waistband. His pectorals rose and fell, the flesh as smooth as marble. And with that heavy-lidded expression and mussed hair, he looked as rumpled as a blanket—ravished, as though he’d recently exited a lover’s chamber. I had been keeping him awake, he’d said. The notion shouldn’t invigorate me, but it did.
