| It happened on the corner of Broadway and 47th Street. The girl leaned against the building, running her fingers through her bleached hair and smiling more than casually at the male passers-by. She wore a plaid skirt and a low-cut V-neck sweater. Finally, one of her comehither looks paid off and she was approached by a young man with a familiar glint in his eye. "Hi," he said, undressing her mentally. "Hello, handsome." His eyes focused on her sweater and the curves it almost covered. "What's the V for?" he asked. "Veronica?" "Uh-uh. Virgin." "Oh, come on," he said playfully. "You're a virgin?" "No," she winked. "It's an old sweater." |