She began turning the pages, focusing on the paintings of his famous model, Marie-Thérèse Walter, the mother of one of his children. "Look at these,... Rita said. "They don't look like her but they look..." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "They look like he loved her."I opened my eyes. I'd collapsed in bed after Rita left and just thought about what I'd painted until I was so exhausted from my own confusion that I fell asleep. I could see it. I knew what I'd done. I'd simply used Rita as a. Her flexible tail coiled around his waist as she fumbled with the buttons on her jacket with a shaking hand, popping it open, then doing the same with the dress shirt beneath it. She pawed at one of her breasts, delving into the fat that was contained within her sports bra, but the elastic material seemed to frustrate her. Careful not to cut it with her claws even in the throes of her ecstasy, she slipped her hand beneath it, Jules watching it begin to move beneath the fabric as she massaged. More

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