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.. In some ways maybe..."Patricia nodded, and then looked... what? Uncertain? Caring? It was hard to tell... "Eric?" Yah?" This week... There's something I need to apologize for..." You think so, huh? My gosh Patricia! The yacht!" Yes, of course... I was so way out of line..."I stared at her. She looked sincere. "You certainly were... Oh heck Patricia. If you're really serious about apologizing, I'll forgive you." Really?! Eric... Thank you. That means so much to me. I felt so terrible... when I woke up the next morning, and realized what I had done..." Huh? Woke up? You mean on Thursday?" Huh? Eric, what do you mean? I mean Friday. What are you talking about?" I thought we were talking about apologies," I replied. I suddenly felt confused. "What do you think you're apologizing for?"Patricia looked around to make sure we were private before replying. "Why, for having oral sex with you without your permission. Eric, that was very wrong of me. Watching Melanie masturbate you... dominate. I’m sex personified, baby.”I mix up a shade of red but pause before the brush hits the canvas. Considering. Wondering. Thinking of red capes and red masks. Of rainbow hair swirling and spinning, and zigzagging about. Rainbow road. Broken toad. Turned. Angry Bowser to hopeful Super. Mario and Peach. Days spent on a 64 watching barbed hearts melt into malleable bits of softened lead. Emotional radiation. All blocked. At last. At last.I set the brushes down and stare curiously, empty canvas morphed to life-like depth. It isn’t anything earth shattering. It’s not a van Gogh. But… it is something, profound even. To me at least. It’s you, captured, as you should be.I nod, stretch, and walk over to the bed. You’re wiggling and mewling lasciviously, toes curling, teeth biting lower lip as an orgasm works its way through your petite frame. The joint, smoldering in an ash trash on the nightstand, is left abandoned and lonely, so I take a quick puff.“Finally,” you gasp as I nudge your knees up.
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