I am certain that she can feel my fingers gently toying with her thick red strands, or feel my opposite hand gently caressing her pale warm cheek. Yet...does she present that Mona Lisa smile because of my loving actions, or because of something in her mind? Does she dream, and if so, does she dream of me, of us? My eyes focus on her eyelashes. Long and thick and painted in darkest black, they flicker slightly in her sleep, tempting me, beckoning me, demanding my attention. When we had first met. You can impress her; see? Honest, sugar. I can carry it off so well that she’ll never suspect a thing.”Poor Paulette, he thought. She was torn between several emotions. She wanted to keep an eye on him. She didn’t want her daughter to know about her lover. He could see she was trying to make up her mind.“My daughter must never know.”“I’ll act my part like it was an Academy Award performance. You do the same. She’ll never. More

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