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I tried to make love under Fred for the first time on a warm October evening two years ago.
It was right in the middle of Big John's annual Halloween bash, the very same party that keeps three square city blocks of the city up all night. My current girlfriend, Annie, was in one of her moods, none of which I ever figured out. So when I suggested, after six very fast and hot dances, that we go somewhere cool, take off some costumes and really get hot, she laughed and said she would love to.
But she wanted to go somewhere new. She said she was tired of my apartment and "those old squeaky bed springs." She wanted to be daring. "Really live," was the way I think she put it.