On the small balcony he looked at the slow traffic down on the street: the city was near silent, in a thin mist of rain.

He would take a picture of the buildings, at the junction, this time on a high enough aperture to see the drops falling, and the dream-like quality of the scenery.

But now, he felt her presence behind him: and soon her hand on his shoulder, her angel voice whispering in his ear.

She was back, the slim shoulders, the firm thighs, strong hands to handle a strong man.

And the wonderful sex that would follow, as the rain fell on Faust’s city.