When power and passion clash....watch out
By an author who knows the importance of details.
Pullum took a step back and gave Shondra the once over, from her curly hair, to her chest, to her bare knees, down to her stilettos. Her eyes were neutrally discerning, as though appraising an empty wall. Mostly, Pullum stared into Shondra's eyes, trying to bring out words and thoughts Shondra had never dared express aloud.
Instead of answering, Pullum turned her gaze from Shondra back to the painting.
"What do you see in my painting, Shondra?" the beautiful female artist asked.
Shondra did not answer. How could she tell Pullum that she wanted long, dainty fingers to clasp at her breasts? The wild vertical and horizontal lines gridlocking the women in the painting were like tender caresses of the fingers on one's body. How would Shondra be able to tell the lovely artist, it was exactly how she wanted another woman's fingers to travel up and down her voluptuous, curvy body? She derived no pleasure from men. The determined gaze of the woman in pleasuring her partner turned Shondra on even more. But how could she possibly bring herself to tell Pullum that?
"I feel completely and totally naked under its artistry," Shondra admitted, quietly.
Pullum smiled and nodded, satisfyingly. It was the correct answer.
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