Finger on the Trigger He's got that T & R look, street stuff to the core. An edgy, hard, spring, a faster remedy than your bouncercizer. Even the air respects this backstreet royalty, keeps his Crazy Horse hair and tiny pore, proud brown face fresh during night rounds. His number you got, burning a hole, smouldering in your smug above-it-all wallet of pretensions. Twitchy fingers won't dig it out though. He could cost some coin and like you, he prefers to shag the familiar.

He's a high risk girlfriend. And as if you don't know what risk, here's a list. To re-offend, to give you trich, syph, hep, the virus. To smack you around, to break your heart, to give you an intense ride back to your reckless self who can fall in love and laugh at death. Irresistible. Just right for someone whose own whistling in her nose scares her at night.