I have this little sofa in a corner of my office. Not anything special, just a small, comfortable and overstuffed antique. Next to it is a small, wooden trunk, actually a trunk from my childhood, where I used to keep all my toys. My mother had given it to me a few years ago and I thought it went well with the sofa.

Sitting on the trunk was a bottle of Veuvre Cliquot and a couple of glasses.

Sitting on the sofa was Rebecca Granville.

And me, Eric Lewis.

The chemistry was as intoxicating as the champagne. She wore a black dress, but I guess women call them, "little black dresses." And they do very big things these little black dresses. They get you thinking...they get you to imagine, especially when they ride slowly up a pair of smooth, tan thighs-- thighs like Rebecca owned.

They definitely get you to think-- these little black dresses.

*****

She'd surprised me. Just like Andrew had surprised me the day before, but this time I was happy. Elated to see her, she felt like my new best friend, my new buddy. She cracked me up, she held me up, boosted my ego, told me things her father had said about me, about how he imagined me a partner one day... she told me I was an artist -- that my hands should be insured because of what I was able to do with them on the operating table.

"I can only imagine what else you can do with your hands," she said after that. And then she slyly finished her champagne.

"I'm starved," she said. "You?"

I was hungry... I wasn't sure what I was hungry for... yet. But it was coming to me.

Here I am -- on the couch with the daughter of the most famous doctor in the United States -- feeling high from French champagne and... Rebecca Granville. Here I am and in my head, screaming over and over was a voice, "Eric Lewis, you're gay!!! You're a BIG FAG, what are you doing flirting with a woman?"

I told the voice to shut the hell up. And poured more champagne.

"Eric, can I be just a little forward?"

"You can be a lot forward, Rebecca," I said.

And she leaned in and kissed me. She kissed me with strength and confidence, exactly the way I thought she would. She kissed hard, she kissed over and over and over.

And I kissed her back.

My God.

It was amazing. It was amazing. The champagne made my head swim. I kept my eyes closed and thought, "this is exactly the same as kissing a guy... only completely different."

I knew I was getting into trouble. I knew this was going to cause problems.

But I didn't care.

Once again-- I didn't care.