Marlowe's thick fingers fumbled nervously at the buttons down the well-stacked woman's breasts; he could feel her large soft mounds tauten under his t...uch and it stirred his own anxious passion to a heightened tempo. As he reached the last button, Kate bent over and grabbed the hem of her expensive designer- original dress and pulled it up and off her shoulders; she threw it onto a padded dressing stool at the foot of her bed and reached in back to unfasten the tautly-held hooks of her. ”He followed her there. He immediately saw a painting on the back wall by an artist he did recognize. “Is that... ?” he gulped.“Oskar Kokoschka,” she giggled.“Wow. I just...”“I know. I couldn’t wait to surprise you.”He pulled his eyes away from the expressive, darkly colorful portrait to look at the other paintings. Freddy was more social, meeting the gathering of mothers of children dancing downstairs, at least a couple she knew. Again, like the landscapes, more excellent art done by unknowns. More

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