Without replying to my comment, Savage pulls me to him and kisses me deeply, with such depth of feeling, such passion, he takes my breath away. Without hesitation, I slide onto his lap and straddle him, kissing him sensuously. Finally, when we break free of our kiss, Savage looks flustered. Flushed. Disoriented. Beautiful. If he’d been born hundreds of years ago in Italy, I’d have no trouble believing he was Michelangelo’s inspiration for David.