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It was a just a month later that Carolina Campbell Callaway flew to New York. She planned a long weekend: arriving Friday, leaving Tuesday afternoon.

I was waiting in the lobby of my building when her cab pulled up. I came out and helped her with her bags.

In the elevator, "What am I going to do with you all day Saturday, Sunday and Monday?" I joked.

"Kaz, we're not in Carolina, but you could be for three whole days. I don't know what I was thinking. Imagine a proper Southern belle willingly subjecting herself to an invasion by Yankee hordes. Do you have a Yankee horde in your pants, Kaz?" She laughed.

"I don't know about hordes, but if you came here to be invaded, you came to the right place. I may even have a Yankee horde in my mouth."

"What a delightful thought, but first, the flight was awful. I need a long hot bath to relax."

It was less than an hour later that Carolina finished in the bathroom. She was wearing something from Victoria's Secret. It was black; stunning against her blonder than blonde hair. It could not have been any shorter and although it was low cut, if you recall the very ...

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