"Back to Freud and the Western neurosis. Yvonne—I have to scram in a moment. Work. And a nephew. Maybe you'd care to meet him?"
"You'll forget to call me."
"Then you call me—later on."
"Probably I will."
I scraped up the last of the salmon and tipped the ice cubes in my coffee glass against my upper lip.
Yvonne reached over and took my left hand. She ran the backs of her fingers slowly through it and shivered with a small ecstasy. "Phil! I'm all new!"
"You certainly let your hair down."
She leaned toward me. "I let down—!" She smiled and shook her head. "Am I so wicked?"
"Nope. If you tried, you might make it. Right now—"
I left her in that subdued, shiny-eyed jizzle.