With smell, taste, and sound remaining to guide him, the explosion that strands Paul Anders in a world of silhouette and shadow isn't about to keep him from his twin passions of women and the two-step. Donna Clark has short hair, slim hips, and a mouth that tastes like peaches. "She says I'm a great dancer, not I dance great for a blind man." But when Paul shows up at her door, the only one home is her thirteen-year old son Tim, all arms and legs and the common sense of a month-old spaniel. As Paul tries to track down the boy's mother, threats come at him from every direction including a 6'5," 250-pound enforcer for a loan shark and a nymphomaniac social worker. Martha's ex-husband didn't pay for the dope he bought or return the money he borrowed to pay for it. Can Donna be involved? Paul's driver, six-foot, 24-year old Marcie Foss, an Aikido brown belt helps clean up the loose ends, but Paul, curmudgeon to the end, won't admit it.