“You’re doing that on purpose,” she accused. She looked down at her sheet of paper at her prediction. She had predicted church, synagogue, mosqu..., and then church. So far that day, they had visited a synagogue, mosque, and now a church.“No, I’m not,” Oscar said.Pouting she said, “At this rate, you won’t have to give me an orgasm tonight.”Grinning at her, he asked, “Does that mean I’ll get some sleep, tonight?”She stuck her tongue out at him and said, “Not if I’m right on the next guess.”“We’ll. I now know you have it in you so go out and paint it! You’re Master”I wept as I consumed his note and I reread it several times. Then I turned my attention to the two wrapped gifts he had left on the easel. I opened the first; a large canvas and looked at it in awe. It was a painting of a dancer resting on a bench. Her right knee was raised and her foot was sitting beside her on the bench, in her hand was a towel she had wiped the perspiration from her still glistening brow and she was. More

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