Doyle explores Bodie's wardrobe, touching the rail with one finger, admiring a fine silk shirt briefly before pushing it aside. His finger lifts then settles between a pair of dark cords and a brown woollen suit. He strokes the worsted fabric of the suit, feeling a faint tugging as the kemp catches on a calloused edge of skin.

He moves on, rubs his fingers over the lapel of another jacket, smooth linen blend, very cool.

"Find what you were looking for?"

Sweet, velvet murmurs in his ear. Worn leather creases against his shoulders, heat presses through his cotton t-shirt.

"Yeah".

-- THE END --

April 2006