He was the colour of honey, a few freckles across his shoulders, his pale-pink nipples catching the sunlight.
Nathan imagines they’d be caught and, besides, the man may be a serial killer, so suggests the cruising park behind the Hilton instead. Much safer.
He’s too polite to say he thinks he’s more handsome than me, but he’s not too polite to think it.
He says I should come back to the table and talk to him more, and blows me a kiss. I wink at him, like a playboy.