She did not resist, and as my lips found hers, she slowly responded to me; our tongues meeting. Her kissing became even more passionate. The elevator ...oors opened, and I found the key in a quick fumbling movement. I somehow managed to open the door, pull her in, and continue kissing her. She responded with even more passion, so I paused to lead her back to the bedroom, then as I turned to close the door, I again paused. “Cat, is this what you want? What about your husband?” She pulled me. Only the sound of his curse, uttered with a cajun twang, and laced with the poison of his hate, remain to haunt my day. That, and the eternal beauty of a woman whose smile is all that can bring calm to the tempest in my soul.They say that artists are usually tortured by their inner thoughts. I have heard this pain is what drives us to create things others can only imagine. For me, at least, that is only partially true. I’ve been sculpting out of marble and stone for as long as I could hold a. More

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