Publisher's Synopsis
Shonda was relieved at Harding's departure. Taking a glass of champagne from the waitress, she walked down the long, dim pathway. Some of her colleagues smiled in acknowledgment before averting their eyes back to the paintings or conversations. Shondra's eyes washed over almost all the paintings. She paid more attention to the ones depicting only women. It was then she realized that the art gallery had been lighted in slight darkness to provide its viewers with discretion. Under the dim lights, Shondra felt more comfortable viewing these paintings with a sense of freedom. It had been the avenue she had been looking for all this time. A sense of breathlessness engulfed her as Shondra thirstily ravaged each stroke of paint brush with her two eyes. Her pupils dilated with pleasure at the sheer, vulgar artistry of the artist's painting. Each brushstroke was rough on the edges and the lines of the women's arms were distinctly cavorting. It was as if the women in the paintings danced before Shondra's eyes, all of them engaged in an orgiastic frenzy of homoerotic debauchery. Each voluptuous breast called out for Shonda's lips. Each crudely drawn vagina was like twenty soft lips gesturing for her to kiss them until the end of time. Shondra could only wipe the slight sheen of sweat that was forming on her forehead, even though the art gallery was very generously air-conditioned.
