‘Is Geronimo a Kiowa? I heard somethin’ about him in school. Do you know Geronimo?’ ‘Geronimo is Cherrycow Apache. No, girl, I don’t know hi....’ He seemed faintly amused. ‘You ask a lot of questions.’ ‘My teacher says that’s how we learn things. Asking questions. Don’t you ask questions?’ Something stirred in his eyes. ‘Sometimes,’ he allowed. ‘Did you ever think what it’d be like if we couldn’t ask questions?’ One of his eyebrows lifted. ‘Don’t believe I did, no.’ ‘You ought to. I’ve got part. I heard nothing behind me and took my chance, running into a dark alley littered with hiding spots. I dove behind a pile of boxes surrounded by old tires and trash and bent over, hands on knees, catching my breath. Who was that man? I shook my head, brushing back snarled tangles of hair. Slowly regaining my senses, I heard a sound and snapped my head up. The man stood at the entrance to the alleyway. A streetlight behind him made him appear like just a shadow, but I could sense his large grin,. Her deep blue eyes sparkled in the brightness of the Texas sun. Her lips were a lighter shade of red and her smile lit up her face. Just like seeing any of my other girls, it made me feel good right down to my toes. Taking in her outfit with a glance, she wore a pale blue tank top that made her look like she had more of a tan than she really did. The shirt was tucked into a while skirt that was tight around her waist but hung loose around her thighs. Her legs were as shapely as I remembered and. We stood side by side, him between the two of us, to drink it in. He spoke in low tones– I almost had to strain to listen to him, but I wanted to feel every thought of his. What he said was so important! He asked us questions about some things which showed that he thought very deeply. ‘He began reminiscing about his home in Southern France, about warm days on the beaches. The warmth that he described seemed to surround us. I remember that he was amused that American women did not feel.