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A waitress appears approaches their table to take his order. He asks for a hamburger and hot tea and waits for his meal to arrive while she returns to her novel. Around them hovers the usual dull chatter of early afternoon lunch-breakers while outside the usual traffic moves on by. * * * * ‘I met someone today,’ she says with a smile and a glow on her cheeks. ‘Really?’ Doctor John scribbles something on his clipboard page. ‘Where and when was this, if you don’t mind my asking?’ ‘At a café shop a block down from my office. I was on my lunch break.’ ‘With the way you’re smiling it seems he must really have made an impression.’ ‘Well … you could say that.’ ‘That’s nice to know. So, how did both of you get to meet?’ A shy laugh, then: ‘Well, if you really want to know, he came and sat across from me, and then he said …’ ‘Sorry, but I never figured white women read Leonard,’ the young man says, startling her from her reading. She looks up from the books’ pages at his smiling features,. Slowly, meticulously, he drew more, smaller ones – on her arms, feet, and neck. Butterflies of varying colours appeared on feminine skin, and soon the man moved closer to her smoothly shaved nether area. Right at the top of her clitoris, he started drawing a lush, fiery red rose. The stroking of the brush soon had the woman breathing heavily and her blue eyes closed. The briar rose became glistening, as if with morning dew, and the woman’s thighs were moving impatiently. Feminine moans, half pleasure, half frustration, filled the air. The painting gentleman laughed softly, stood up, and gently kissed his artwork’s forehead. Then he resumed his drawing. This time, however, he picked up one of the thicker brushes, and slowly inserted it into her depths. Slow motion, however, was obviously not to his lady’s liking. She lifted her left leg and hooked it around her lover’s neck, pushing his face closer to his handywork. The gentleman dropped the brush in his hand, pushed the one inside.
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