He smiled at her and leaned in as if to take it all in, and she closed her eyes and smiled, but he stopped short of kissing it, instead tracing the lines of her labia with the tip of his tongue again. ‘Damn,’ she said, opening her eyes, looking tortured. ‘Not yet,’ Trish said. ‘Harry, get up on your knees, will you?’ He did as he was told, and felt a little awkward in the position, until he felt Trish’s fingers stroking a path from the small of his back to his hip, and then his thigh, before she leaned down on her side and reached in and took a full hold on his cock. ‘Oh God,’ he said as she gripped it firmly but making only the slightest jerking motion. He looked back and saw that her face wasn’t far from his, and she looked up from her ministrations on his cock, straight into his eyes, and smiled at him, before pursing her lips slightly and closing her eyes. Harry guided Veronica’s leg so that it straightened out of the way, and he leaned over to kiss his wife. It was a slow, wet. The copy of Arts and Artists was the brand new issue and there was a lot of information about new shows, new galleries, new artists, etc. I read through them and circled some things I wanted to get back into. As I turned a page, I almost screamed. The lead picture on the article was my neighbor. "Of course," I yelled. "Damn it, why didn't I recognize her?" Auburn hair framed her face beautifully and those blue-green eyes seemed to burn directly into mine. Her smile was so genuine and beautiful that I wanted to kiss her. I turned to the first page of the article and read that Jennifer Finch had seemingly disappeared on a well deserved vacation. Rumor had it that she was hiding in the high country in either Colorado or Wyoming. "Wrong," I said. "She's right next door." Jennifer Finch..artist..photographer...gifted pianist..was right next door and I wasn't allowed to meet her. Holy shit, it just wasn't fair. She'd just finished a very successful showing at the Drake Gallery in New York.
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