Rosalind

Orlando won't stop smiling. It's like he's had a little stroke. Every time he sees me, he pretend-shoots me with his finger and winks.

His enthusiasm makes me anxious for all kinds of reasons.

The next morning after we passed the time all night doing the dirty deed, I'm smoking fish on the beach, and Orlando comes up behind me and wraps his arm around my middle.

"Hello, orgasm lady," he growls while he nuzzles my ear.

"I guess I can have ...