I sit up and move toward you. I know you want to look, but I need for you to kiss me.Our hands wander. They wander to hips and chests. My back, my ...ss, my thighs. Your neck, your nipples, your stomach. My legs, your legs, my feet, your back. You push me to the floor with a firm hand on my shoulder just as I reach for your erection, and all I get is a brief encounter before you have my wrists pinned above my head.You kiss my forehead, my eyes, my cheeks, lips and chin. You kiss my neck,. ” At another, “You should be a cartoonist, that’s the only direction your art is taking you.” “What the hell is that?” It seems like he didn’t have a good word to say about anyone. He stopped behind me and just stood there for a minute. My drawing wasn’t complete—not even close. In fact, there was only a hint of the outline. Instead, I’d focused on what I saw reflected. He cleared his throat. “Next time try drawing the vase,” he said and moved on to the girl who’d cried. I could see her hands. More

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