Once the fabric had cleared my breasts, his eyes were glued to them, travelling side to side within their sockets to take in each breast individually....hile maintaining his eye lock on my small breasts, Dad lifted the top up my arms, over my head, and off my hands. When my eyes cleared the fabric, I found his eyes still caressing my breasts. He dropped the top onto the love seat, looked at my eyes, then placed his hands on my hips, his long fingers extending onto my ass. He kept his eyes on mine. From my earlier attempts to put sold stickers on my paintings, my hyperbole had been honed to perfection. At the time, two paintings still needed buyers, so I was loquacious.Pound, I guessed, was sixty years old, maybe a little older. He was gay. That was obvious. His ears and cheeks poked out like Howdy Doody's, and he had a toothy grin reminiscent of the puppet's happy smile, but his nose and cheeks weren't freckled."For an artist, you are a talker," he said.I didn't sense that he was putting. More

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