Joy arranged a time when Coal Blackstone could conveniently undertake a searching chat with His Worship Cass Tamburlaine.  The way things worked out, she was shown into his plushy beige office at precisely eleven o’clock on a bright sunny February morning.   
     Cass was sprawled in a lavish yet stubbornly unaccommodating cream leather chair—rather NASA in feeling—behind a vast Victorian mahogany desk, a desk so heavily worked with dark clusters of carved fruits and heavy sprays of flowers, it seemed to breathe and heave with a fervid vitality stylistically foreign both to Cass’s space-age swivel chair, and to the porcine mass of his body—which he now struggled to lift up as a courteous gesture to his stunningly beauteous caller.  Cass raised himself about eight inches from the NASA chair and, with a breathy “whouff!”—like air hissing from a punctured inner tube—fell back again into the embryonic position he had assumed before Coal was ushered into his office.
     “Is there anything I can get you, your Worship,” his aide asked, “while I’m here?”
     Cass thought for a moment or two.
     “You know what would be good?” he replied, glancing at Coal and winking.  “A big container of white chocolate ice cream!”
     The aside scurried away and Cass turned to Coal. 
     “A hot day!” he said to her, apparently unresponsive to the   room’s temperature controls, that modulated the mayor’s surroundings into an approach to conventional comfort.
       “Ice cream will cool us off.”
     “Oh no, really, none for me,” said Coal quickly.  “But you go ahead.”
     Cass nodded.
     “Joy tells me you’re a model.”
     “Much of the time,” Coal told him.
     “A High fashion model?”
     “As high as possible.”
     Cass roared with laughter. 
     “And the rest of the time?” he asked her.
     “Oh I get interested in different things….”
     “Like death threats against the mayor?” Cass asked her.
     “Things like that, yes,” Coal replied.
     “Did Joy show you some of the death threats?”
     “What do you think?”
     “Well, they’re very skillfully made.  The drawings are exquisite.  The messages are perhaps not quite as charming.”
     The mayor exploded with rage. 
     Not quite as charming??  Charming??’ Whoever sent them to me calls me a side of beef and wants me slaughtered!!”
     “There’s some strange mention of gravy as well,” added Coal softly.  “Which seems to imply that the sender has some odd culinary interest in you as well, Mr. Mayor.”
     “The sender is a cannibal!” Cass gasped.
     “Oh I doubt that,” said Coal.  “More likely a chef, wouldn’t you say?”
     All this talk of captive meat was both distressing for Cass and, at the same time, vaguely arousing.  He made a second attempt—a more successful one this time—to rise from his chair and, having attained a sweaty and approximate verticality this time, lurched around the end of his Edenic table to stand too close to Coal’s chair.  She shrunk back slightly from his massive nearness—but only slightly.
     “You,” Cass said, “are a very beautiful woman.”
     “Yes,” smiled Coal, I’ve heard that.”
     “I love beautiful women!”
     “So do I.” said Coal.
     Cass was rather taken aback.  “You like women?”
     “Of course,” Coal replied.
     “I mean like sexually—like in bed.”
     “Are you asking me if I’m a lesbian?”
     “Well…yeh. “
     “What do you care, Cass?”
     Cass thought about this for an overheated second or two.
     “Well, if you’re straight, I can fantasize about you in the usual way, and if you’re a lesbian, I’ll have to fantasize about you in a different way!  So which is it?”
     “How about you don’t fantasize about me at all,” Coal suggested.
     “You’re too beautiful.  I can’t help it.”
     “Then I can’t help you,” Coal told him, rising from her chair and turning to go.
     Just at that moment, there was a perfunctory knock at the door and the aide tiptoed in bearing a bucket of ice cream on a silver server.
     Perfect,” said Coal to Cass and his aide.  “Now you can effect a titillating relationship with your stupid ice cream.  Which I feel certain excites you more than women do,” she added, striding across the carpet to the already open door.
     “And say hello to Joy for me.”
     Cass watched Coal’s exit and then looked down at the ice cream.  He turned helplessly to his aide.
     No spoon,” he said sadly.  “You forgot to bring me a spoon.”