"Ok. Brian, then let's start with the obvious. How close can you get to the missionary position?"He looked at me, our eyes locking for an instant. I k...ew. I knew in my heart, I knew in every cell of my body. I wanted him. I wanted him more than I ever wanted Terrance. More than I'd ever wanted anything. I knew he would use me — play me and walk away just like Terrance had but I also knew that I didn't care. I was so desperate, so stupid that I was going to let this White boy do what he wanted. It was a technically perfect snapshot in oil of a beautiful lady. But that was as far as it went. If I donned the persona of an art critic, I had to say the artist was disinterested. The next painting that came up on screen was the flaming hell portrait of Allison. It was as if two different artists had put the color on the canvas. I couldn't say it was an exact likeness of the woman. Even if it had been, it was unlikely that more than a couple of people could have recognized her from this. More

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