Clearly, she had embarrassed herself in front of Kate; she remembered the crying. She was still wearing her clothes from the night before, so she had ...assed out without undressing. She had also had this disturbing dream, at least she hoped it was a dream, of her and Kate kissing. Getting drunk had not changed anything, she still desired the other woman. Becky headed back to the bedroom, intending to go back to bed and sleep off the hangover. She stopped short when she saw that Kate was lying on. The taboret loaded with brushes stood invitingly beside the easel. In a way her hands itched to handle the brushes but the inspiration was lacking, her muse was busy elsewhere. A strange foreign mood had overcome her. Somehow the commission and The Court seemed very far away. She had a memory of her urgency to connect with them but the necessity of it was fading into a comfortable indifference to such things. The pleasures surrounding them seemed to be increasingly all that was important. More

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