’ She said: ‘I couldn’t do that.’ She went and changed. She left her underwear off. She slid the straps down her arms. I took several portrai...s. The dress wanted to slip lower. She was tense and it showed. I said: ‘Relax.’ She wasn’t. I said: ‘Turn around.’ She did and I rubbed her shoulders and upper back for several minutes. Then we tried again. Much better results. The dress slipped lower freeing a breast. Her nipple and areola were dark red and medium size. She blushed and hurriedly. ‘What, you looking so beautiful tonight?’ ‘No.’ Really? Slutty, maybe. But beautiful? ‘The fact I didn’t know what you just said without you translating for me. Marco—’ I turned round to face him, glad to have an excuse to stop looking at my reflection, although my re-acquaintance with the brilliant crimson splodges across the front of his shirt still came as an unpleasant shock. ‘I can’t speak Italian! How in the world am I going to cope, working with the rest of your designers? I won’t. More

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