Her edgy beauty could step out of a full page Versace ad, or naked from the walls of the Uffizi (she even looks good in just her shower cap), or dressed up sexy from a Lautrec or Mucha cabaret poster, Paris, 1920s: “You don’t have to dress up like that for me,” said I. “It’s not for you, it’s for me; it makes me feel sexy.” Gifted and Talented, she has a theatrical whim for costume, cosmetics, and characterization. In show biz terms, she’s a class act. By the standards of neoclassical ballet she bears a definitive carriage, her sweet and sensitive breasts surely the envy of every other girl in the corps de ballet -- not too large, not too small, just right, dear Goldilocks. Time’s winged chariot never hurries near Danni; not to worry about clock watching, she doesn’t know what a clock is, and says she often prefers her clients an hour late. The first time we met for a late supper in the garden. She excused herself to freshen up, changed into her cabaret rig, and greeted me warmly upstairs a full dress main event. We met again a few days later at a Stapleton hotel chose for my convenience. I brought some wine, I got comfortable, we chatted, she sipped in semi dress, and...