To say Yvette was astonished at what she beheld discredits the word…breathtaking…the sight took her breath momentarily. “Well then,” she said, turned and walked to the model’s stand, stepping up, sitting in the little chair and waiting, smiling. His rather sizable part, admirable to some and compelling to others and to this point unused for any but disposal purposes…his wine and other fluid recycling spigot which he now carefully tucked in his pants and began sorting his supplies for the arrival of his patron, rubbing his neck all the while…it was dark and dank…damp, aching. She looked forward to her visits and previously, before being fascinated with the conquest of Jean, had fucked the doctor. And do you sketch the rest of me with detail? Jean opened his last bottle of wine. He signed his name to the sketch. Surreptitiously she had used it on herself…but just to get comfortable with its use she rationalized.
