I was debating whether to buy any when the owner spotted me and beckoned me in. He looked like a baker—round and soft-- and always with a big smile ...n his face. His bald head was usually obscured by his baker’s hat. As soon as the door closed behind me, he turned the sign to say CLOSED. I looked around and, indeed, the sketch of me was hanging on the wall behind the cash register, right alongside a framed picture of a dollar bill. Anyone who bought anything in the bakery would see it. He was. He looked like something out of an old Western, dark features, dark coppery skin, and log straight black hair tied in a ponytail behind him. "Hello," he said, "I?m Dr. Daniel Twoknives. You were found in an alley not too far from here without any identification. You seem to have an injury to the head. Do you remember your name?" I..." T-Jay reached up to touch a bandage wrapped around his head. He wanted to say that he was T-Jay Kendall, and some bitch had done something to him, but what. Her hair fell softly in curled strands to her shoulders, charmingly framing a glowing face. She had a wonderful smile and an aura exuding sensuality, despite her business casual attire. But she filed passed me to the nether regions of coach while I remained comfortably sipping bubbly up front, nothing exchanged between us but a smile. Now, I’m not the kind of man who looks at an attractive woman and thinks, ‘Man, I’d love to take her to bed.’ But something in that fleeting glance had me flush. Brief interludes of snow and cold do not prepare you for New England. He was used to California living and suddenly he found himself cooped up inside for months with nothing to do and a wife who wasn’t much around. Everything just kind of tapered down. I truly tried to find time and energy for us. We went away for a few weekends to inns where I deliberately didn’t take any work or a cell phone or a computer. I bought him a camcorder to make videos of us having sex. I knew he masturbated over.
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