Obnoxiously so. Who sold real art next to movie studios? And it wasn’t even real art. It was a pastime. It was amateur. God, even she hated her work...Lane had spent hours trying to convince her to let him sell her paintings. Half of her genuinely believed it was a ruse to get her into bed. Which he’d achieved. Many times. She let out a long breath, trying not to reminisce, though it was hard. He smelled like warm sand. He was maybe the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Her heart skipped a beat. Eyes about bug from your face and head as the rush of change makes a human skull something retrofitted to act as one of a big pig. Sensations so wild and somewhat delightful come to a halt when as you eye at the mirror, you watch your human ears grow, becoming pointed, bristle coated, and hang down as do a loop-eared swine boar.The foyer clock down at the entrance to the old apartment house chimes midnight, and you are by then a big boar hog. You are held in an apartment by a locked door and. More

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