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She’d studied it. She’d walked around it and peered at it from every angle as if it was three-dimensional. She silently pointed at different parts of it, smiled, frowned, nodded, shook her head. The way she looked at my painting was as if she was interpreting it with her body.She’d done the same thing when I finished my classroom detention painting the day before. She’d pulled me back away from the easel and let Ms. Clayborn look at it. Then while my teacher and I talked, Annette examined the painting. She’d watched it take shape over the past week, but her response was as if she was seeing it for the first time. She pointed, giggled, and even bounced up and down. I could only see her taking delight in what she was seeing.Last night, when we were naked with each other for the first time, she approached me with equal intensity. She wanted to see me from every angle. She wanted to touch and interpret me with her fingers and her lips. In her presence, I felt ... I felt like I was Art—I. Not with that ice- cold body and mind of hers.Roger took four aspirin and an Alka-Seltzer for his hangover, and then went in to take a hot shower before dressing to leave for Marcus Cord's.The Cord home was near the crest of a sloping, eucalyptus- bordered drive in Peacock Gap--one of Marin County's most affluent communities--just outside of San Rafael. It was constructed of heavy redwood, with a lot of glass and a field-stone facade; long and low and sprawling, it lay nestled back from the road some hundred yards, behind a tastefully landscaped yard that included bottlebrush and Joshua trees. The heady, redolent scent of the Burmese honeysuckle which grew abundantly over an arbored porch filled the warm, balmy afternoon air.Diane sat with her body pressed tightly against the door on the passenger side of the Plymouth as Roger made the turn into the curving macadam drive. She hadn't spoken since they'd left San Francisco, had simply sat with her hands folded carefully in the lap of.
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