I was nothing, just an anonymous annoyance. Refusing my attentions was like saying he didn't want cream in his coffee. I tore into him. He snarled bac..., probably because he had been working so hard. In half an hour I was lying well over on my bed, my back to Larry, sniffling. I wondered if he still loved me at all. At least he had promised to come home early tomorrow, and we would have an evening together, just the two of us. Maybe we could have a nice dinner and walk on the beach. I thought. The end result was a digital "oil painting" of an erotically beautiful young woman in a midnight garden. She had dark hair, and her youthful curves glowed in sensuality, as in a painting by an Old Master artist. She appeared to be teasing her panties away from her beautiful crotch. Her name was Francesca.How had he ever sunk to this? It started when he looked at a photo of her, taken a few years ago. He found himself fantasizing about her in the nude. He scanned the photo into his computer,. More

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