He strode to the wine cellar and presented himself firmly in the doorway. "One last chance," he said. "Are you coming out?" He waited in the ensuing silence, suddenly assailed by a strange feeling of indecision. Then he cried out with dismay as a slender arm suddenly darted out into the moonlight and coiled gracefully about his neck. "Now, just a minute!" Marc gasped. But the arm did not hesitate. Tightening about his neck, it drew him toward the darkness. Instantly, a pair of warm lips pressed down on his own. Marc struggled to free himself, but the mouth was extraordinarily tenacious. And another arm had joined the other about his neck. Then Marc freed his mouth and sputtered with objections. "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded. A winey breath impressed itself on Marc's nostrils. "Don't you know?" a voice murmured softly. "You should." "Let go of me," Marc said stiffly. "Not in a million years," the voice replied huskily. "I'm going to stick to you like skin. Forever and ever and ever and...." "We'll see about that," Marc grated. "Whoever you are, you're trespassing. In more ways than one." Reaching up he grasped the arms about his neck and attempted to disentangle them. They only tightened their hold. He tried to duck under the arms, but they moved downward as he did. For a moment Marc and his amorous captor crouched together in the dark, literally cheek by jowl. The other giggled. "I'll bet we look terribly funny," she said. "Stop that damned giggling," Marc fumed. "Things are bad enough without that." He had decided on a strategy to free himself. In one quick movement he straightened up and stepped backwards. It might have worked perfectly if he hadn't stumbled over a piece of wreckage. As it was he suddenly sprawled backwards and fell to the floor in the exact center of the patch of moonlight. His winey companion, true to her promise, accompanied him in his downward plunge with skin-like precision. She landed against Marc's chest with a sigh of satisfaction. "May I take this as capitulation?" she asked. "Or was it only an accident?" "Don't be so disgusting," Marc said. Then, gazing upward, he suddenly blanched. His mouth fell slack. The girl had loosened her hold on his neck and was sitting up, gazing down at him. In his confusion Marc didn't even notice that the thing she was sitting on was his stomach. The girl was the same one in the dream. The girl was Toffee! "Oh, Lord!" he moaned. "You're...!" "Of course," Toffee said brightly. "I made it. I'm here." "Then this is really a dream," Marc said dazedly. "I'm still in bed asleep. I only dreamed I woke up and came down here." "Wrong, son," Toffee said briefly. "This is no dream. This is for real." * * * * * Marc stared at her in disbelief. "Wait a minute ..." he breathed. Then he reached out a hand, touched her, and quickly drew it away. "That's the general idea," Toffee said.