From some far nautical corner of Cooper's mind came a faint cry of "make a hole!", the traditional command to clear the way for passersby. It never stood a chance against the whisper of Sarah's breath, the soft rustle of her dress as he drew her a little closer. He was full of ardor, devoid of violence, determined to drink down every last bit of the taste of her without pressure or force. It took a long, long time, and he savored every moment.<br/><br/>At last need for air overcame desire for her and he eased away. Most of the other pedestrians had simply swerved around them, just another sidewalk hazard along with the pocket dogs leashed to the rich party girls, sandwich boards advertising dance clubs and vendor stands. One or two older couples gave them a knowing, nostalgic smile, while one suited, shaven-headed man with places to go brushed past muttering what Coop assumed to be the Spanish equivalent of "get a room".<em>All in good time, bro</em>, Cooper thought, and smiled down at Sarah.<br/><br/>"OK," he said. "So let's boldly go, then." He slipped his arm around Sarah's waist and nudged them into motion again, headed in the direction she had been steering them before.<br/><br/>"So, apart from reference books to help save my bacon, what are we shopping for?"