’ She trailed a fingertip across my cheek. ‘Teach me?’ she asked again. I handed her a wide brush and gingerly lifted my still-damp work off ...he easel, placed it on my workbench and grabbed a fresh canvas from under the bench. ‘I’m not really certain how much I can show you – I can’t claim to know any actual techniques or styles, honestly, for me it’s all about feel. Much like my writing used to, the paint just kind of flows, almost as if I’m unconscious.’ ‘So it’s all about the feel?’ she. Flipping off the television, he set the remote on the living room stand and started heading to the basement, whistling a tune as he went. Opening the basement door, the first thing that he noticed, or that anyone could notice was the smell. Sex. It was everywhere, and as he started walking downstairs to his room, the smell only got stronger. Through his bedroom door, he saw her writhing on the bench she was tied to. Her legs were tied to the bench, splinted straight, with rope pulling down on. More

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