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CORTIJOAt El Cortijowith coffeetilting right and leftin talk weird as alcohola little dark one backedinto my kneedidn'tlook round. . . just sat on it.No introduction! She tookmy femur for a public perchand in that exhilarantfluctuation of conversationquiveredlike a kitten ready to bounce.I wrung myself with lovefor the finely wound nerve of herbalanced thereand the way loose hairshalf-twistedat her palpitating nape.Disturbed by my rude eyeshe twitched round to glaremy grin into a grimacethen looked backbut didn't budgeher delicate handful of bum.