”“It does too! It’s like looking in a mirror.”“It’s not meant to be a photograph,” I said. “There are bound to be some interpretations that are seen differently by different people.”“Don’t be modest,” Sharon said. “If I’d wanted a photograph I’d have hired a photographer. This is what I wanted.”“Well, you’ll know for sure if you come in here and find Ralph beating off in front of it. It’s certainly your tits.”Rebecca had nothing particularly good to say about the painting and even Sharon was getting a little impatient with her. Eventually, we agreed on an installation date and once I’d seen the portrait in the space I could determine the type of frame it needed. I asked her about a framing budget and she said to just do it and she’d pay for it. Man. I’d have to be careful about that. Frames for a piece like this could cost as much as she paid me to paint it. I put the piece in the back of the car while Clarice chatted with the two women at the doorstep, and was in the car waiting by. Nothing clumsy about this dance. It was practiced and effortless like only familiar partners can do. He released her hands and they went immediately around his shoulders. Her freshly manicured nails streaked along his muscled back while the heel of her shoe excavated the edge of his ass. Moe grabbed a couple more pictures, a close-up of Kitty and Mr. Smooth lip-locked, and another close-up that featured body parts without the faces. He figured he had enough evidence but decided to stick around for the grand finale. Just then, Kitty’s eyes popped open and looked right in Moe’s direction. Finale or not, it was time for him to scram. Moe never saw it coming. The burning stab sliced into his skin as easy as butter. The second stab was easier, less burning, less surprise. Moe tried to focus on who or what had snuck up on him so easily. But it was too dark, too hazy. He was falling and he couldn’t stop. The slap of his body hitting pavement echoed in Moe’s ears. He heard a loud crack and.
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