You are indeed a fine artist,” he said. “Does this mean I’m no longer a peasant?” Matt asked as he continued drawing. “You are still a pea...ant. I’m glad she’s married so you cannot run your tricks on her,” he growled. “I don’t know, Sengi; I got her in my chair. Once that happens they usually want to sleep with me,” he said confidently. “But she’s married,” he snapped. “So! If she were really into her marriage, she would not be trying to tempt me right now. I mean look at her. She. It was raining, so he couldn’t work in the garden anyway. When Louise had asked him to come along, he had agreed immediately. A little road trip sounded good, even though the weather wasn’t ideal for it of course.The artist was a German woman who was dressed extravagantly in contrasting colors and a Rastafarian hat. An artsy type, his mother might say, but his dad would probably call her an attention seeker. She was kind of theatrical, speaking in a loud voice and making wild gestures. He got. More

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