Stacy looked incredible tonight. Little black dress cut up to the middle of her thigh, black suede heels, and all that incredible hair. She was a walking dream, and he wasn’t the only one who thought so. A couple of guys at the bar were giving her the eye right now, showing their appreciation in their gaga faces. They waved the bartender over and asked for his opinion. It was the same. Tozzi was willing to bet they were wondering whether this was really the Pump-It-Up Girl. All three of them probably had hard-ons for her. He wished he could have one for her. His equipment still wasn’t responding, and it was driving him nuts. There was no good reason for this, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to go to a doctor. It wasn’t like that. It was all mental, and he was pretty sure he could fix it himself. If he stayed around Stacy, the blood was bound to start circulating again. With the right stimulation, it would happen. He was almost positive. He got the ticket from the hatcheck girl, and leaning on his cane, escorted Stacy over to the maître d’s register.
