They ended up at Marietta's place. Her house a dilapidated Victorian with peeling white paint and a comfortably overgrown backyard.

"I took him in the side door to my bedroom so he wouldn't see the mess in my studio," Marietta said.

She insisted on telling me in great detail everything they did that night. No I'm not going to write it down here. This book is not about Marietta's sex life.