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him to drive to Queen Anne immediately. When he arrived, he was still whining. "Dana's being really nice to me," he conceded, "but nothing intimate. She can't ever come over alone either. She's always got Jody with her or some other CPFV freak. My odds are probably better at getting her sidekicks into bed as a group than ever nailing her. They're all trying to get me to join their cult. I suppose making the gesture can't hurt, but I think I'll see more of her if I pretend to be a hesitant convert. You know, she also asks about you a lot."

"Like what?"

"Random stuff. Last time she wanted to know how the clothes you bought were working out. What's that about?"

"Not a clue," I lied.

It was ironic, really, because just then Bastien noticed the Victoria's Secret bag still sitting on my counter. My privacy apparently not a concern, he emptied it out and looked through the lingerie with approval.

"You want to try something on?" I asked wryly, noting his scrutiny.

"You always did have good taste." He held up the black mesh bra and peered at me through it, as though imagining how it would look on. "Although I still don't know why you buy this stuff. Just shape-shift it."

"I have a respect for 'intellectual property.' Whoever designed this deserves their pay."

"Even if it was constructed by third-world labor?"

I made a face. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"Where to?"

"A piano bar."

Surprise put his malaise on hold. "Are those still around?"

"Yup. There's actually a couple of them in Seattle."

In fact, one was even nearby, less than a fifteen-minute walk away. As we went, however, Bastien wouldn't stop worrying about the Dana thing. It drove me crazy. I hated her too, believe me, but I couldn't figure out what was making this such a maniacal obsession for him.

Fortunately, the piano bar was just wacky enough to distract him - as I'd hoped it would be. We ate yummy bar food and drank froofy drinks like Midori martinis and Sex on the Beach. Meanwhile, dueling pianists sang everything from Eminem to Barry Manilow. As the evening passed, getting a request played cost more and more money. However, the patrons grew drunker and drunker, so they didn't mind putting the cash down.

Knowing this in advance, I had brought a stack of bills, and Bastien and I took great amusement in seeing just how well the piano players could keep up with our increasingly older and more obscure requests. Bastien and I sang along beautifully. Shape-shifting, in addition to so many other benefits, could modify one's voice and vocal cords. The piano players had an astounding knowledge of our requests, and we were so impressed - and drunk - by the end of the night that we gave them a hefty tip.

Before we could leave, however, Bastien made me wait to hear one more request. "I slapped a fifty down with it," he said. "They've got to play it soon. I picked it just for you."

"If it's 'Superfreak,' I walk," I warned.

He laughed. "You'll know it when you hear it. It reminded me of you and your writer. "

Sure enough, I immediately knew which song his silly sense of humor had led him to. The smile cracking his face was sort of a giveaway too. Pulling half of me onto his lap, he sang along loudly with Fiona Apple's lyrics:

"I've been a bad, bad girl

I've been careless

With a delicate man

And it's a sad, sad world

When a girl will break a boy

Just because she can. "

"You're truly a creature of hell," I told him, trying to wiggle away. "You know that, don't you?"

"I just tell it like it is." He held onto me and kept singing.

"Heaven help me

For the way I am

Save me from

These evil deeds

Before I get them done..."

When we finally left the bar, both of us laughing and humming, we passed a group of girls even more drunk than us. A few of them gave Bastien open looks of invitation, and I glanced at him expectantly. He shook his head.

"Too easy. Besides, I'd rather go home with you. So to speak."

He walked me back toward my apartment, holding my arm as he had once done when social mores dictated it for anyone of good breeding. The pavement was slick from earlier rain, and a moist chill hung in the air. Not far away, the Space Needle gleamed watchfully above the nearby buildings; it would have Christmas lights on it soon. Bastien tightened his