John would make me sit as still as I could, and use me as he always did whenever he had a sudden epiphany to paint. “keep quiet and just help me, da...ling,” he would mutter whenever I made a peep of complaint, and he would silence me completely with a long and hard kiss before he stepped away from me, his eyes never leaving me, and sit again at his infernal favorite position, behind the painting easel with the paintbrush held in his left hand.You see, John is a painter, an artist, and I am his. She let go of my earlobe long enough to whisper. ‘Oh, you’re a shoe in. She asked me if you were my boyfriend, with a huge grin on her face.’ ‘Well?’ I asked, wondering at her response. She pulled back laying her forehead against mine. I could see the little grin on her face, she bit her lip and said. ‘I think he just might be if you like him. She nodded like a bobble head doll.’ ‘Yes!’ I whispered. ‘Easiest interview ever.’ ‘Am I going to walk into a room and find you two sucking face every. More

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