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Ferguson walking us in an ordered line through the building, while a guide made comments about what we were seeing. I remember snickering when we walked near paintings that showed people naked and the look she would give us, glasses on the end of her nose, her disapproval clear of our childish lack of appreciation of the works of master painters. Looking over at James, I know she would still give him the same look. By each painting was a small placard, giving the name of the painter, when the painting was done, and a brief history of the controversy that had surrounded a lot of these pieces of art. ‘So these are copies?’ asked James after about five minutes of being lead around by Marcie. ‘Some of them are,’ answered Cathy from her spot still under my arm. ‘The originals are scattered all over the world in famous museum collections. This is a traveling display that goes from city to city.’ I felt her stop us and looked up to see a woman stretched out full length on a couch, arms. A tingle rippled through her. ‘Uh-oh,’ she thought and hoped her expression didn’t betray her inner tingle. She led him through the halls of Azura Holdings. When she pointed down a corridor, toward Albert’s office, he touched her elbow and thanked her. Another tingle. He smiled and walked away. His black suit cut the perfect silhouette as it glided out of sight. Back in her office, Caroline couldn’t concentrate on the work in front of her. The building was almost empty. She let herself drift. Who was he? Why did he smell so damn good? Why did he have to touch her on the elbow? She leaned back in her chair and imagined what it would feel like to have his long arms wrapped around her. She closed her eyes and turned her back to the door. Her hands started on the inside of her knees. She pressed her head against the back of her chair. His warm, intense smile… The firm, gentle touch of his hand… Her hands slid up the inside of her thighs, pushing the hem of her skirt higher. She could.
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