Sitting at the café I brought it to mind's eye, asshe excitedly told me of Jeanette Pierre La Sons' critique for the ArtInternationale . I listened...to her, yet I remembered back to the night when I brought Annetteto her studio through the pouring rain. The girl's hair had been ragged, soakedwith dirt and drizzle, and her makeup had run streaks down her cheeks. I hadwondered whether the sweet water of the sky, or the salty river of tears hadflowed down the sides of her face. My Painter's eyes. ..NO! If I keep exploringmyself I'm never going to leave.I grabbed the leggings and stepped into them. The extremely tightspandex material hugged my every curve. I turned towards the mirror andgave my shapely bottom a playful little wiggle and then a little lovetap. I even did a few lunges to show off my firm things, but stoppedbefore I got too aroused. Now for the last part--I flung off my teerevealing my huge chest. How the hell am I going to squeeze the twinsinto this teeny tiny sports bra?. More

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