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a Wall” Stark said.
    Kirsten grinned. “You mean you experienced a sense of being on the verge of a cathartic sexual release?”
    “Not exactly.” Stark glanced at Desdemona. “As I recall, it was more along the lines of ‘What am I doing here when I could be having a nice day at the office.’”
    Desdemona’s soft mouth curved with wry sympathy. “That thought was no doubt soon followed by the realization that he was going to be stuck paying for a wedding even though he hadn’t gotten married.”
    “The fiancee flamed out and left you with the whole tab, huh?” Henry shook his head. “Bummer.”
    “That’s one way of putting it,” Stark agreed.
    “We’re all very glad you paid the bill, though,” Juliet said. “Desdemona had to buy a lot of the supplies on credit for that gig. If you hadn’t come through with the cash, she’d have been left high and dry.”
    “Which would have been bad news for us Wainwrights,” Henry added. “We depend on her to keep us employed when we’re ‘resting between engagements’, as my father likes to say.”
    “Desdemona’s the first member of the family in three generations to have a steady job,” Juliet said. “To tell you the truth, the older generation of Wainwrights finds it a little embarrassing.”
    Desdemona hoisted her cup in a mock salute. “A blot on the Wainwright family escutcheon.”
    “But a useful blot,” Kirsten said. She looked at Stark. “Actually, I’m hoping to follow in her footsteps.”
    “You’re going to get a steady job?” Stark asked.
    “I’m going to start a small business, just like Desdemona did.”
    Stark sipped his espresso. “Catering?”
    “Not exactly.” Kirsten’s eyes lit with the excitement of the incipient entrepreneur. “I’m going to open an upscale, very classy boutique right here in Pioneer Square.”
    Stark eyed the long, purple, tunic-length sweater that she wore over a pair of tight purple pants. “Let me guess. Designer clothing?”
    “No way,” Kirsten assured him. “There’s a zillion clothing boutiques here in Seattle. I’m going to open a very special kind of shop. A place that will cater to women’s sexual fantasies and consumer needs.”
    Stark wondered if he’d missed a conversational cue somewhere along the line. It happened all the time. “Sexual fantasies.”
    “You know, attractively colored condoms, for example. Women buy a lot of the condoms sold in this country, did you know that?”
    “Uh, no. No, I didn’t,” Stark admitted.
    “Some pretty lingerie. Maybe some light leather, vibrators, instructional videos, erotica written by women, for women, that kind of thing.”
    “I see,” Stark said.
    “But all sold in a tasteful atmosphere.” Henry gave his wife a proud smile.
    “Tasteful,” Stark repeated cautiously.
    “I’m going to call it Exotica Erotica,” Kirsten said. “It will be a place owned and operated by a woman, catering specifically to female shoppers. Of course, men who are interested in buying sensual toys and such to give as gifts to the women in their lives will be welcome.”
    Stark looked at her. “Is that a fact?”
    “Exotica Erotica will be the kind of place where professional women and suburbanites will feel comfortable.”
    “Even Eastsiders?” Stark asked.
    “Especially Eastsiders,” Kirsten said. “I envision a place that will remind them of their favorite mall stores. Very upscale, like I said.”
    “Not tacky,” Juliet added in case Stark had not grasped the concept.
    “Definitely not tacky,” Henry agreed.
    Kirsten leaned forward, her eyes filled with the zeal of a crusader.
    “Do you realize that in this culture there are virtually no decent, pleasant places where a woman can shop for products that are geared toward her sensual needs?”
    “Uh, I hadn’t given the matter a lot of thought,” Stark admitted.
    “Who knows?” Henry said. “If the concept works, maybe Kirsten can franchise it.”
    Stark looked at Kirsten. “When