Michaels chuckled. "I wasn't exactly getting ready for the opera, Sam."
Collins turned around and saw Sarah Comstock still waiting, the petition in her hand.
"Now what's a pretty girl like you doing, wasting her time in politics?" Collins heard himself ask.
Mrs. Comstock twittered. "I'm old enough to be your mother, Sam Collins."
"I like mature women."
Collins watched his hand in fascination as it reached out to touch one of Sarah Comstock's plump cheeks, then dropped to her shoulder and ripped away the strap-sleeve of her summer print dress.
A plump, rosy shoulder was revealed, splattered with freckles.
Sarah Comstock put her hands over her ears as if to keep from hearing her own shrill scream. It reached out into pure soprano range.
Sarah Comstock backed away, into the shadows, and Sam Collins followed her, trying to explain, to apologize.
"Sam! Sam!"