The white walls were tastefully adorned with art, mostly postmodern – she particularly loved the Jackson Pollock piece on the wall adjacent to the m...ssive flat-screen TV and the Al Held near the dining table. The dining table, oh, how her eyes almost fell out of their sockets when she first saw it. Philippe Starck, 2010 collection, a modern marvel of lucite and steel. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy, knowing that she could never afford any of these things, not even in her wildest. ”“Jay, believe me, I wouldn’t want it any bigger.”“You sure?”“Cross my heart,” she crossed her heart, then reached for him. One exceedingly warm finger touched him. It had never felt so stiff before. A second finger joined the first. Then her hand wrapped around him and squeezed.“Ahh...”Her eyes flicked up to his. “You’re not complaining, are you?” He just shook his head; he didn’t dare move too much. “Good,” She nodded and bent at the waist.The natural consequences of her degree or two higher. More

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