There in the right hand lower corner in a delicate swirl of frothy pigment the artist had spelled out an ambiguous, ‘Moore’. Vivienne returned to ...he blossom, and to the echoes of sensation still welling within her. Her tongue gently laved her upper lip as she shook her head in perplexity. ‘Moore? You better might say ‘MORE’!’ she sighed to herself. She stepped back into the space of the atrium without turning around, held by the painting and the resonance of the emotion. That dark space within. Nothing fancy, nothing special about it except him and her ... together.Blood pulsing through her with a wanton ache, Dana wanted him back, wanted to hear the smooth tone of his deep and rich voice. She wanted to feel the palms he'd roughed up on his old truck. The depth of her conversations with him had told her more about him than anyone she knew.Four long months had passed before this night. Exchanging emails, chatting on instant messengers, and even though they both lived in Las Vegas, they. More

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