When last seen, Collin had raced out of the River Club to seek his lost love and with his man Edgar, off they went in a futile attempt. Collin kept rebuking himself, knowing he was selfish talking about himself instead of asking for her phone number and now he didn’t have a clue as to where she lived. All through the night went the concierge carrying phone books from all over the greater New York area to his door.
Exhausted, smock stiff with paint, I shook my head, cried “What’s wrong with me? to the silent studio and even Kizzy barked as if he too acknowledged something was off. Even the illustration I drew looked like Collin, even the talking rabbits. The illustration for Lady Be Bad might work since the shaggy silver hair hid his face and the woman’s face couldn’t be seen because she pressed against him under his chin. I ached with longing gazing at the picture so different from other erotic book covers and it reeked of sex in a subtle way.I stepped back careful not to trip, aware of heat in my body like a cold furnace coming to life.
Oh Joyce, you are in deep trouble.
Time for bath and bed as I winced with relief when holding the rail, I stepped carefully into the claw footed tub. Years of taking for granted every day movements ended with hip replacement so forget walking with ease, running when I wanted to. . .blah, blah, whine, whine.I’m alive, in my early seventies and temporarily heartbroken. Ever hopeful, I thought maybe at this moment the rude Irisher was trying to locate me.
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