He's hard, she thought."Thanks. Did any of them try to paint souls?" A hand wandered from Gloria's breast to her hip, and then to Gloria's inner thig...."Not that I'm aware." She spread her legs slightly.Josh's hand cupped her cunt. She was wet. I knew she'd wanted Josh from the day they'd met."Shucks. I wanted to see how another artist approached my problem," Josh said. "Wanda, you know more about art than anyone here. Has any artist ever tried to paint souls?" Edvard Munch, maybe. He painted. Where Big French Creek Road abruptly turns back on itself a rough trail continues deeper, deeper into the mountains.Eventually the trail stops before a wall of hand-fitted dark stone blocks, five stories tall. It reeks of age and--something else. The glass windows in the openings shout of anachronism. A broad stone arch leads into the gloom from the bright June sunshine. Once inside the air seems cooler. What appears to be an old stable has been refitted into a large open garage. Heavy stone. More

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