) I went straight to the impressionist section: Monet, Degas, Morisot, Cezanne, Manet, Pissaro, Corot … and, coupled with the thought of your hand h...lding mine – and maybe creeping slyly elsewhere! – I was caught up in the heavy sensuality of the paintings immediately. So much so that no more then half an hour later I had no choice but to remove the minimal lace panties I was wearing, for fear that they would become so saturated that I would begin dripping on the floor. Without them, I could. Beep, beep. There it was again. It was coming from one of her shoes, a few feet from her. Then she remembered that she had put Davis's radio in her shoe the night before.Beep, beep. Should she click it on and listen? Maybe they were trying to reach Davis. Maybe they didn't know he was dead. Maybe she could learn something that would help get through another day alive. Or maybe once she clicked on, they would somehow know exactly where she was.Beep, beep. "Here goes nothing," she said to. More

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