He raises his eyebrows, a non-verbal invitation for her to continue. Nothing. ‘The art world? What do you do?’ ‘I own a gallery in Ottawa. I am ...oon to open another in Montreal. And you? What do you do?’ ‘I have my own company. Graphic arts. It pays the bills, eh’, he says with a grin. ‘Ah. You are a commercial artist.’ ‘Yes, but I do my own stuff too, paint, draw a little, just for me. Gifts to friends sometimes,’ he says. ‘Ah! Then you are a practising artist also! Perhaps you will do a show. Something must have been awry in me. I pulled my finger out and washedit with soap. Even after thorough cleaning, I could feel semen on mythigh. At least the sticky stuff wasn't inside me. I shuddered andwalked out of the shower.From now on, I'd only pretend to be a girl for the job. Afterwards, I'duse my ill-gotten funds get tonic treatments to become the mostmasculine man I could be. I certainly wouldn't allow Bemariq to get hisway with me. Enjoying that would be permanently a part of my. More

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