Or something... Mix your own metaphor.But I couldn't help believing that a little something extra had happened -- something that went a little beyond ...ust my getting laid.Emmy. Emmy was extra.No illusions on my part. Even Emmy wasn't going to make me hit .750, or even half of that. What is half of .750, anyway?... Let's see -- half of .700 would be .350. So then -- .375. No, no, I wasn't going to hit .375; or .350, either. Not even if Emmy Shreve was right there in the dugout, boffing me. She was sitting on the sofa, a low table beside her with two large brandy glasses shining gold in the light. I walked to her and bent down and kissed her mouth. Her hands came up to my face and held me to her. Her mouth explored mine and her fingers gently traced my face. Her legs were wide apart and I stood between them, bent over to her. I let my hands go to her shoulders and she allowed her tongue to extend into me. She tasted beautiful and I knew she had cleaned her teeth as I had when I. More

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