I decided the time was now right to visit my doctor lover Mark in San Francisco. He had again become the focus of my every thought. I kept dreaming of the love we had shared so intensely but so briefly. That was now more than a year ago, since he had accepted a position all the way across the country. Something had subtly changed in our long-distance relationship lately but I couldn't put my finger on it. Mark and I had mutually agreed we would date others but we still did phone sex on a frequent basis.

Valentine’s Day rapidly approached on the calendar. I had postponed my trip to San Francisco originally scheduled for the day after Christmas until February because my father had surgery. I thought about the meaning of Valentine’s Day. It started in the Roman Empire as a fertility rite to honor gods and goddesses. The Catholic Church eventually changed the focus to the worship of a bishop named Valentine who had been beheaded on February 14, 269 A.D. because he secretly married couples contrary to the edict of Emperor Claudius II. In 496 A.D. Pope Gelasius designated February 14 to honor Saint Valentine. I had every intention of engaging in a fertility rite of my own with Mark on Valentine’s Day. Every time I thought about it I had to masturbate.

I met a real character on the flight to San Francisco. Henry was very old and told me he had a terminal illness and only a few months to live. He was quite tall and distinguished looking with white hair and a matching neatly trimmed beard. He wore a very expensive charcoal gray suit with a blue button-down shirt and black tie with some sort of emblem on it. I tried to visualize what he might have looked like when he was my age. Very handsome I imagined. Henry had no family and had chosen to spend his last days in San Francisco, the city of his youth. I could tell he was very lonely.

Henry entertained me with stories about the famous people he had known during his long life. Most of them had passed away but he made them come alive to me. He had known the late Ruth Handler, co-founder of Mattel and creator of the Barbie doll. I thought about telling him about my first best friend Emily and how we went from playing with Barbie to playing with each other. Yes, Emily had gone from touching Barbie's pussy to fondling mine. And then I did the same to her. Emily and I laughed about it when we rekindled our relationship recently. But I decided I didn't know Henry well enough yet to talk dirty, and besides, he looked like the sort that might spank me for being a bad girl if only he were a little younger.

Sixty some years ago Henry had a brief career in the major leagues. He roomed for a time with Enos Slaughter, a Hall of Fame player and legendary hell-raiser. But World War II and a severe bullet wound to his knee from a Nazi pistol ended that. Henry related he was being tortured at the time. Another of his best friends who had sadly passed away a couple years ago was Abba Eban, the diplomat who persuaded the United Nations to approve the creation of a Jewish state in 1948. Eban got Henry involved in the business of espionage and counter-intelligence. Later he became a soldier of fortune and then a private detective.

"Tell me about some of your favorite cases and people," I pleaded.

Most of his private dick work, Henry joked, occurred in and around L.A., where the real action was. He had partied and smoked a few joints with Robert Mitchum a week before he got busted with actress Lila Leeds and a few others on marijuana charges in 1948. He did some investigative work for Lana Turner in 1958 that helped get her fourteen-year-old daughter Cheryl Crane off the hook for stabbing gangster Johnny Stompanato to death with a kitchen knife. Justifiable homicide so ruled the jury in twenty minutes.

Henry had known Joe DiMaggio quite well. They got together whenever Henry came to San Francisco. Joe introduced him to Marilyn Monroe. Henry's eyes brightened as he talked of her. Then Henry shocked me with his tale that the Kennedy's had Marilyn killed to silence her and that DiMaggio knew who had President Kennedy assassinated and it wasn't Lee Harvey Oswald, the mafia, Castro, the CIA, or the FBI. DiMaggio knew because he had hired Henry to do an unofficial clandestine investigation into the deaths of Monroe and Kennedy to satisfy his own doubts. But Henry wouldn't tell me much more, other than the fatal dose of Nembutal that killed Marilyn in 1962 had not been willingly ingested by her but administered by enema by another. I had no reason not to believe him. But this sounded too incredulous. My female intuition usually lets me know when a man is trying to deceive me. Unfortunately, I don't always pay attention to it. Henry had no reason to impress me with untruths. I mean, it's not like he wanted to seduce me or anything.

As the plane landed Henry pulled out his wallet. "Here my dear, I want you to have this." He handed me ten crisp one hundred dollar bills.

"Huh? "What is…uh…this…uh…for?" I stuttered in surprise.

"I have more money than I can possibly spend, especially since I won't be around much longer. No family. Most of my friends are dead. I have thoroughly enjoyed the brief time we have spent together talking, Annie. With this money I would like you to buy yourself a lovely new dress and allow me the great honor of taking you to dinner during your stay in San Francisco. At your convenience of course. I know a fabulous French cuisine establishment."

"I'd like that, Henry. Mark, the man I told you about, will be working some of the time so I'm sure we can get together for dinner. I just hope you don't make Mark jealous, you cute old coot! And I definitely want to hear more of your wild and crazy stories." I laughed gaily and gave Henry a little peck on the cheek and squeeze as we departed the plane at San Francisco International Airport.

Mark met me at the airport and we embraced and kissed. But it just wasn't the same. The words he spoke were the right ones but something just didn't ring true.

"Annie, I missed you so much! It's been so long since we held each other. I love you, my darling." I detected just a slight trace of insincerity.

Once in Mark's car, I attacked him. "Mark, find the first somewhat secluded spot and park. Unless you want me to give you a blow job while you're driving. There is a certain amount of thrill to that possibility but I don't want to cause an accident."

"Annie, we need to talk about the sex," Mark cautioned. "I think we should remain celibate with respect to each other until we are married."

"Married? You haven't proposed to me. Where does this newfound morality come from? Mark, I want you in my mouth. Right now. And I want you in my pussy soon. It's all I've been thinking about."

"What we did those times sexually happened, Annie, we can't change that. I don't want to change it. But I must insist that a repeat performance wait until we are husband and wife if that is where we are headed with our relationship. No, I have not proposed to you…yet. I have a little present for you. Not a ring…yet…but something I hope you'll like. Now close your eyes, my valentine." Mark put the chain with the heart pendant around my neck. "It belonged to my grandmother."

"It's beautiful, Mark. I love it! It looks expensive. Thank you so very much. I have a valentine for you, too. It's between my legs. I want it to be yours forever, my love."

"All in due time, Annie."

Very disappointed, I insisted, "Tell me about this change in your perspective regarding pre-marital sexual relations, Mark."

"Let's just say I have seen the light."

"I want to see the lights too. While you are making love to me and hitting my G-spot just right like you did before. Please, Mark?"

"No, Annie. We must wait." I sulked and pouted and remained quiet all the way to Mark's apartment.

"Nice place," I finally spoke miserably as we entered.

"Yes, I like it. Annie, I have to work the second shift in the ER at the hospital and must leave soon. Here's a key. I'll meet you back here at midnight. My friend Robert is going to entertain you in my absence. Take you sightseeing. Dinner. Whatever you would like to do."

"What I would like, Mark, is for you to make love to me."

"I think you already said that, Annie. We'll talk about it more when we meet later. Okay?"

"I guess I don't have much choice. I'm not real crazy about being led around the city by a stranger." I moved close to Mark and reached for his zipper. "You didn't become a eunuch did you? Let me have a look, doctor. I want to make sure you still have the package. Let me be your own personal head nurse." I unzipped him.

Mark pulled away. "What part of 'no' don't you understand, Annie? And Robert is no stranger. He's one of my best friends. And you don't have to worry about him hitting on you. He's gay."

"Gay? Wonderful. I have a date with a gay man and all that’s on my mind is sex. Fuck that!"

"Annie! Shame on you!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mark. I'm just totally frustrated by these new developments."

"It will be for the best, Annie. You'll see."

"I sure hope so but I fucking doubt it."

"Annie! You know I don't like to hear that kind of language from you."

"Sorry." I thought, what is your fucking problem? Mark was pissing me off. My hair would have stood on end if it wasn't so curly.

"Here's Robert now." Mark introduced us. Robert began to irritate me right from the beginning. He had this nasal high-pitched voice that reminded me of fingernails scraping on a chalkboard. Mark and I confirmed that we would rendezvous back at the apartment about midnight. He left for work and I reluctantly left with Robert.

Robert informed me he worked as a dress designer. That figured. But it was the first thing he said that interested me much. I asked him to take me to his favorite boutiques. I wanted to spend that thousand dollars Henry had given me on a new dress. Clothes seem to be the only thing that takes my mind off sex.

Trying on expensive designer eveningwear put me in a better mood temporarily. Robert talked me into a very bright lime green long-sleeved and belted mini-skirt. "Day-glo shades in Crayola-like hues are what's happening," he pointed out. "Calvin Klein, Christian Dior, Marc Jacobs, Prada, and Versace are all going in that direction. Look how your hair contrasts with this dress! And it magnificently displays your long lovely legs," he concluded.

"You sound like you would like one of these dresses for yourself," I snapped viciously. I was still ticked off at Mark and any friend of his was not a friend of mine at the moment. Besides, Robert irritated the hell out of me. But he was right about the dress. I bought it with Henry's money and couldn't wait to show it to my ancient but charming new friend. I knew he would really like it. I decided to wear it rather than put back on my jeans and sweater.

As we walked out of the boutique, I muttered, "Robert, I don't feel well." Actually, I felt fine, other than being totally sexually frustrated. I couldn't stand Robert's company any longer. "Please drop me back at Mark's apartment, Robert. I need to lie down and rest. I sprained my ankle and hurt my back in a skiing accident recently."

"Uh…uh…I can't…uh…take you back to Mark's place."

"Why the hell not, Robert?"

"Don't get angry with me, Annie. You scare me when you scowl like that. I don't want Mark to know I didn't do what he said to do. You know, entertain you until he gets home at midnight from his shift at the ER."

"That's silly, Robert. Why would Mark care?"

"He will care, believe you me," Robert insisted, looking very nervous and upset by my request. "Please, isn't there somewhere else you could go until he gets home from work?"

"I simply do not understand why you are making such a big fucking deal about this, Robert. But okay, I don't feel like fucking arguing about it with you." I'm sure the expression on my face reflected the fact that I just might choke him at any moment if he didn't shut up. And I was quite sure I could kick his ass without much effort. "Drop me at Vantage Court. I have a friend who is staying there."

Robert sighed in relief as I got out of his car at the entrance of the hotel. But Henry wasn't in. Must have gone out to dinner or something. I hailed a cab and went to Mark's apartment. Mark had given me the key and I still didn't understand what Robert's problem was with me going there.

Inside the apartment, I flipped on the TV in Mark's bedroom and sat in a chair next to a window. Occasionally I glanced outside. It had started to drizzle. The sound of the rain and the memory of what had transpired thus far in my reunion with Mark began to depress me considerably. The rain began to rattle like machine-gun fire against the window.

And then I saw Mark's car pull into a parking space on the street. I wondered why he came home from work so early. His shift couldn't be over. It had only been several hours. Mark and another man got out of the car. They snuggled up against one another and Mark had his hand on the other man's ass. As they reached the front door of the building they paused momentarily and kissed passionately for a few moments. Oh my God, I thought, what in the world is going on here?

The shock of what I had just seen made me shake and break into a cold sweat. I almost fainted and fetched the smelling salts inhaler in my purse and I revived myself somewhat with a whiff of the ammonia spirit. I hid in the closet. The doors had louvers such that I could peak into the bedroom when my eyes were at the right angle.

About ten minutes later Mark and the other man came into the bedroom. They had drinks in their hands.

"Mark," the other man spoke in a very feminine voice, "you look frazzled. Let me give you a blow job."

"I am really on edge, Felix," Mark replied. "The woman I told you about who came to visit me got very upset when I said I didn't want to have sex with her."

Felix laughed. "I can imagine! What do you want with some dumb bimbo, anyway? All they do is bitch and whine." Felix reached for Mark's zipper and pulled it down. Mark didn't pull away like he did when I did the same thing. Soon Mark's pants were off and Felix knelt in front of him. “If your girlfriend only knew what I do to you while you two are having phone sex.” He laughed louder.

I watched in horror as Felix sucked Mark's cock. I had seen a man perform fellatio on a man before in a porn flick or when some frat rats had at a party. That really didn’t bother me and actually was sort of humorous. But this totally disgusted me and I had to bite my tongue to keep from screaming out. This was my man who had his penis, not in my mouth like I had hoped and dreamed, but instead in the mouth of another man.

Felix took Mark's penis in his mouth and slid his moistened tongue lovingly over the head until his lips closed around the shaft at the point just behind the corona as he cupped Mark's balls with one hand and stroked the shaft with the other. "Now fuck my mouth, lover," Felix requested, momentarily pulling Mark's cock out, but continuing to fondle it with his hands. "You don't need pussy, lover. Let my mouth be your love tunnel. I want your nectar. Give it to me, Mark. Slam it home, honey. You know how I like it--hard and fast."

"Yes, you are my sweet little bitch, Felix. I'll give you what you want. I'll give it to you good." Mark slid his cock in and out of Felix's mouth violently, as if he wanted to pound right through the man's skull. "This is how the Romans liked their fellatio," Mark muttered excitedly. He kept mumbling something about Emperor Hadrian and the Greek youth Antinuous who became his boy-toy as moved his penis back and forth rapidly with his hips without moving his knees. Felix moved his head up and back to meet Mark's thrusts eagerly and seemed to have little difficulty getting it all down his throat.

Mark began to grunt loudly each time his balls met Felix's chin and it didn't look like this was going to take long. He began to pull Felix’s head down on him harder and harder. Finally Mark let out a blood-curdling yell that alerted me it was time to close my eyes. I couldn't bear to watch this part. The sounds told me Mark was shooting his load down Felix's throat.

"That was a great fuck and suck," Mark soon reported smugly. "Best I ever had, Felix." I opened my eyes again. Mark had his cock in his hand, which still dribbled cum on his lover's face. Then he knelt down and licked the cum off Felix's lip and face that had not been swallowed.

The two reclined on the bed and embraced and kissed and spoke terms of endearment to one another that I can't even stand to repeat. After about fifteen minutes of this, Mark got another erection and Felix began to suck him again, but not to orgasm. "Okay, Mark, my love, do me in the ass. I want your hard beautiful cock deep inside me. Make me beg for mercy like only you can do. Fuck me in the heiny hole, lover. Hump me in the back door just like you did to my mouth. Please, baby, please?"

Mark told Felix to get on the floor on all fours and stick his sweet ass up in the air. "Put the lube on my cock, Felix. You'll need it. I'm going cram your crack like you never had it. You can barely talk from me fucking your mouth and soon you'll be able to barely walk from me fucking your ass. You know, I never did that chick, Annie, in the ass. I should. Maybe that would shut her up."

Felix reached behind himself and rubbed up Mark's stiff member. "This is Trojan passion berry gel personal lubricant," Felix purred. "I've been dying to try it. It has a light sensual aroma. I'll lick it off your dick after you bang my bunghole. You're ready now, baby, and so am I. Do me dirty!"

I sat down in the closet, closed my eyes, covered my ears with my hands, and cried silently.

When I knew they had finished I stood up and peaked out again. Mark placed a chain with a pendant around Felix's neck. Just like the one I wore. Fourteen carat white gold pendant with heart-shaped moissanite and six round cut diamonds. "It was my grandmother's, Felix. Just a little something to let you know how much I love you, my valentine."

"Let me show you once more how much I love you, Mark. Be my valentine." Felix reached for Mark's penis and knelt and put it in his mouth again.

"Just be careful with your teeth, Felix. Saint Valentine had his head chopped off. I don't want my head chomped off. You get a little carried away at times. I know you love to suck my cock but please don't bite so hard."

"I'll get all my teeth pulled if you wish, Mark. Dentures aren't so bad I hear. Anything for you, my love." An hour later the pair left. Stumbling out of the closet with weak knees, I yanked the chain and heart pendant from around my neck. Picking up a piece of paper and pen from the dresser, I wrote a note shakily. "Mark, I know about you and Felix. I never want to see you or hear from you again. Annie." I placed the pendant and the note and the key on the mussed up bed where Mark had just had his lover Felix.

Broken hearted, I hailed a cab and went back to Henry's hotel. He was in his room this time. I burst into tears and told him the whole story.

"Oh, Annie, that's terrible!" Henry sympathized. "I'm so sorry. Stay here with me for awhile. Until you have to fly home if you wish. I'll show you around this beautiful city and spoil you terribly. Promise."

"Do you like the dress, Henry?" I asked, trying to change the subject and block the memory of what I had just witnessed from my mind as best I could. "I bought it with the money you gave me."

"It's lovely, Annie, and so are you. If only I were about fifty years younger. Stay here with me I'll you'll have an entire new wardrobe by the time you leave. And I hope many wonderful memories of my beloved San Francisco . Don't let what just happened ruin your vacation. Let me help make you feel better. I'm very fond of you although we just met."

"Can I call you Grandpa?" I joked. I felt better already. Henry gave me a sedative and I slept and slept and slept.

The next morning I had made up my mind. Why should my trip to San Francisco be a total disaster? Yes, having Henry show me the sights seemed like a good idea. And I love being spoiled. There were several other dresses in that boutique that had caught my eye.

Besides, I liked Henry's room. Not really a room--a junior suite. Frescoes on the wall. Two king-sized beds with Frette linens but I slept with him. Why mess up both beds? We didn't do anything of course. Henry couldn't because of old age and his various medical maladies. I made no particular effort to be modest about my body and Henry admired me appreciatively when I paraded around the room in bra and panties or a towel. The hotel was ideally located in the heart of downtown. Near

The night before I was scheduled to fly back Henry and I had yet another wonderful dinner at his favorite French restaurant. We both ordered the lamb shank served with a bowl of couscous made with dates and almonds finished with lime juice and topped with shaved carrots. The tempura cheesecake was simply superb. By the time we left I had become quite giddy. One too many Bombay Sapphire's and tonic I suspect.

Returning to the room, I took the black dress trimmed in white lace off as Henry watched. Another one he bought me. Now I had five new expensive dresses. "Henry, why are you staring? You've seen me like this many times in my bra and panties. Do you like this strapless convertible bra? You bought it. And…"

"Annie?"

"Yes, Henry?"

"I have one last request before you leave tomorrow."

"Anything, Henry. What would you like?"

"I've seen you like this in your bra and panties, Annie. What would you say if I asked to see you naked?"

I smiled seductively. "You are a very bad boy, Henry. Make that a dirty old man. A very dear dirty old man." I reached behind me and undid my bra, letting it fall from my shoulders and onto the floor. Henry's eyes bulged out of the sockets and he started to pant like a dog. I began to slip my panties down very slowly to my knees. They fell the rest of the way off and I kicked them away.

"You are so beautiful, Annie. So very, very beautiful."

"Thank you, Henry. You are sweet. I know you can't do anything sexually. But this little strip tease is making me horny. It's been awhile since I had sex. Not as long ago as you but it sure seems like it. Do you mind if I please myself?"

"Please yourself, Annie?"

"Yes, Henry. Masturbate. I didn't bring my vibrator. Didn't think I'd need it. My fingers will work just fine. I'll go in the bathroom if you think it best."

"No, no, Annie. I'd love to watch you…uh…please yourself. And I think I just might have a little surprise for you if you're a good girl. But let's see you use your fingers first."

"Don't tell me you think you might get a hard on, Henry. Is that it? That's okay if you do. We'll take care of it one way or another."

"No, no, not that, Annie. No chance of that happening. I'm not telling you yet what the surprise is."

I reclined in the middle of the bed and put the pillows behind my the bed. Henry sat beside me. "Henry, please put some music on. Do you any Quarashi? They are a hip-hop group from ."

"Sorry, my dear. All I have is Tony Bennett."

"How about Syleena Johnson? Her first album dwelt upon the pain of a soured love affair. I feel the pain, I feel the pain. The latest album is all about a woman's liberation. 'Tonight, I'm Going to Let Go' is my favorite. That's what I'm going to do. Let it all go. Syleena's voice is so husky and real. Like she has cried a lot. Like me lately.'

"Sorry, Annie, all I have is Anthony Dominick Benedetto."

"Who?"

"Tony Bennett. I knew him way back when."

As I listened to "I Left My Heart in San Francisco " I spread my legs and placed my thumb and forefinger around my clit and began to caress it between my fingers. Gently, gently, gently. I picked up the tempo very, very slowly. Then I put the first two fingers of my right hand over the top of my clit and rubbed in circles. As I got closer I used my left hand to pull my pussy lips back so that my clit was more exposed, which I tapped lightly with the index finger of my right hand. Tap, tap, tap. I listened to the beat of the music and developed a rhythm.

"Oh yes, oh yes," I moaned over and over as I got closer and closer. Henry whispered how much he loved to look at my body. Being watched as I got off made it all the more erotic. And then suddenly I exploded in a powerful orgasm and squeezed my quivering thighs together with my fingers inside me.

"Was that good for you, Annie?" Henry asked kindly. Like I'm sure he couldn't tell. "Damn," I whispered, "I feel a little better now. At least physically. But emotionally I'm still a wreck. I need to get off a couple more times. Maybe I'll forget how miserable I am then. You know, that song works for me."

"Yes, I'm sure it has worked for more than a few women over the years. It did win the Grammy for Record of the Year in 1962 and Tony Bennett also won a Grammy for Best Solo Vocal Performance, Male. The same year Marilyn Monroe died."

"Here I am masturbating to a song that was written long before I was born. I guess there are some oldies but goodies. Like you, Henry. Do you suppose Marilyn Monroe masturbated to that song?" I asked seriously.

"I know she did."

"You do? How?

"You are not the first woman I have watched please herself, Annie."

"I'm not? You mean…you mean…no…not Marilyn?"

"Yes, Marilyn. And back then I could do a little bit more than just watch."

"No! Well, tell me about it! Please?"

"Perhaps. But first I have something for you." He handed me a small box wrapped in bright red paper. I opened it anxiously, exposing the sleek silver case. Inside the case I discovered a lipstick vibrator. I inserted the single AA battery. It seemed powerful for its size but very quiet. I soon found out how intense the vibrations were for something so small.

I smiled at Henry appreciatively as I began to please myself again. "So, Henry, tell me about Marilyn. Tell me how you made her cum while you watch me cum."

He told me the story as I played. Marilyn and Joe DiMaggio were married in 1954 at San Francisco 's City Hall. Henry had driven them from the ceremony to a secret destination so they would not be bothered by the media. The marriage didn't last long. Marilyn and Henry became friends. A few years after the divorce Marilyn called Henry late one evening and asked him to come to her home. She had sex on her mind.

"How could I refuse?" Henry asked me. "She was more than just a sex symbol and beautiful woman. A wonderful very special person. Like you Annie."

"Tell me something kinky about what she liked, Henry. You know, the sex."

"Well, I don't know if you think this is kinky or not but Marilyn loved anal intercourse. Coincidentally, Marilyn died from a fatal enema of drugs which I think I mentioned to you before. She really liked to take it up the bum and would beg me to do her that way. Back then anal eroticism suffered from a powerful taboo. Much more than today. Marilyn responded in multiple orgasms to anal sex without direct genital stimulation which I understand is quite unusual. Her favorite expression for the act was 'Do the doodie shoot.' She lamented to me several times that a certain president wouldn't do her like that and preferred missionary work she joked." Henry stopped talking when he noticed I had just got off again.

"Don't stop, Henry. Tell me more! I have questions." Henry's description of anal sex with Marilyn sounded so erotic, in stark contrast to my witnessing my lover Mark sticking it up Felix's ass. I shivered in disgust at that recollection.

"One more present, my dear." This one was a G-spot vibrator kit. My eyes widened. It included a powerful cordless six inch vibrator and soft sleeves. "It has instructions," Henry advised.

"I don't think I need the instructions, Henry. Thank you so much! You are simply not going to believe what this thing will do to me." Wasting no time I set out to prove what I just said. "Did Marilyn suck cock? Well, I have little doubt that she did, but how good was she?"

"Very, very good, Annie. She could deep-throat with considerable expertise. I think she had a lot of practice. And she loved cum, so she said, and I didn't see any evidence otherwise. Marilyn told me Robert Kennedy was the horniest guy she had ever met. She said she couldn't even begin to count the number of times she went down on him. Their own little private joke was that her mouth was his birth control." Henry told me much more.

"Henry?"

"Yes, Annie?"

"I think I'm going to have an orgasm."

"Well, you go right ahead, my dear."

"But this one is going to be different."

"Oh. And how might that be?"

"I'm going to squirt." I explained a little about G-spot orgasms. "I just didn't want you to be alarmed. A guy once accused me of pissing in his face."

"Do you think I could taste your love juice, Annie. That's about all this old man can do."

"It would be my pleasure." I giggled girlishly. "Get closer, Henry, about six inches from my pussy and I'll give you a treat." Five minutes later I gushed all over his face. It clung to his beard. He seem fascinated by the feel and taste of it.

"Henry?"

"Yes, Annie?" he responded weakly, still fixated on the quivering between my legs while I proceeded to wind down.

"You remind me of my grandfather, sweet man. He used to pamper me so much when I was little. I was the apple of his eye let me tell you. But he died as we all must. Henry, my dear Henry, you haven't touched me once in the time we have spent together."

"If only I were about fifty years younger, my lovely one, as I have said before. Just being with you is like I envision heaven. An angel has come to earth to bring me home. The best Valentine’s Day gift anyone could ever hope to be blessed with."

"Take off your clothes, Henry, and get in bed with me. Press your body up against mine. I want to hold you." He did. His old wrinkled body met my young ripe one. I saw the bullet scars and not just on his knee. Henry let out a gasp like a dying man's last breath as he felt my breasts and wet pussy up against him. He sang "I Left My Heart in San Francisco " softly and a little off-key in my ear until we fell asleep in each other's arms. "Your golden sun will shine for me," he warbled almost incoherently.

The next morning we parted tearfully. I knew I would never see Henry again. I had one terrible day in San Francisco but also six glorious ones.

Three weeks later I received a letter from an attorney. Henry had passed away peacefully in his sleep. The lawyer said Henry had left most of his money as endowments to various charitable causes but that one private individual would receive a substantial inheritance. Me. The lawyer mentioned in the letter that Henry wanted me to know that soap and water had never touched his beard since the day I left San Francisco , whatever that meant.

I eventually did forgive Mark. I had to. I still loved him even though he didn’t love me. At least not in the way I wanted. Mark told me he had been mostly homosexual all his life but he had occasionally engaged in affairs with women. Despite his preference for male lovers, he had hoped to marry soon and have children. I had no intentions of playing second fiddle to Felix's cock or anybody else's. I told Mark we would never again be lovers but I would be his friend and we correspond online and talk on the phone frequently. But no more phone sex. He returned the heart pendant to me and I agreed to accept it as a token of our friendship.

Now I’m planning to travel the world on the money Henry left me. Yes, I left my heart in San Francisco . Perhaps I will find it again in Paris .