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As Dove hummed what was in her head, I translated onto the piano.

Then if it didn’t sound quite right we tweaked it until it did.

For two people that had only known each other a couple months, Dove and I got along great.

Feedback, comments, praise, criticism, death threats, nude photos, etc. Go fuck yourself and go read something else if you dislike those codes or want something more. “Then bring in the horns as everything explodes in a burst of energy,” I said, nodding as it looked like we were firmly on the same page.

can be sent to voodoojoe2000 at yahoo dot com (come on, you can assemble that into an actual e-mail address). Feel free to distribute to friends, enemies, lovers, hopeful lovers, whatever, just keep my name and e-mail address on the story or I shall hunt you down and make you write the whole damn thing out by hand. “That sounds great,” Dove said, excited as we made headway on our song.

Every so often we stopped to write it down before picking up where we left off.

“Wow, look at the time,” Dove said, glancing over at the clock.

At first Dove had tried to say he actually liked me, but I’d seen it enough that I knew exactly what it was about.

You see, back in high school and college I was one of those guys that liked the challenge of fucking women in relationships, the more committed the better.

So after that I naturally shied away from women altogether for a little while, and made a conscious effort to stay away from anyone with a boyfriend for even longer.

Though as any teenage girl that finds herself on the bad end of rumors, even those well earned, can tell you, it takes a long time to undo the damage.

No, it was her two-hundred-fifty pounds of pure muscle boyfriend that convinced me to change my ways.

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