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I take you back to your place, and I grab a bag from the backseat. As soon as the door shuts, I instruct you to kneel at my feet. You quickly drop to your knees in front of me. I ask you where your bedroom was and you tell me. I instruct you to stay there on your knees until I got back. Several minutes go by and I know you are waiting, and wanting so bad to get started. I come back to the room and come up behind you asking you to stand and take off your clothes, and instruct you not to turn around. You stand and strip off your dress exposing yourself to me without question. You feel something strange around your neck it gets tighter and you hear a snap. You realize that I had put a collar on you, as the cold chain from the leash slowly runs from the front of your neck down your back. I tell you that you are now ‘my pet’. I lead you with the leash, back to your bedroom where you see scented candles burning all over the room. I lead you to the foot of the bed, I turn you and instruct. "They don't look like her but they look..." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "They look like he loved her."I opened my eyes. I'd collapsed in bed after Rita left and just thought about what I'd painted until I was so exhausted from my own confusion that I fell asleep. I could see it. I knew what I'd done. I'd simply used Rita as a placeholder as I attempted to paint Allison again. And I hadn't done a particularly good job of it. My original painting had been free. The new one was deliberate and controlled—an inappropriate theme superimposed on an incompatible subject. None of what I'd captured in the earlier painting was present in the second. It was mechanical, not passionate. It showed flames, but it was cold. That fleeting grasp of something that was truly a breakthrough in my art now looked like an unhappy accident that I'd never reach again.It was late. The room was dark. But something had awakened me. At first, I thought it was just an aftershock of Rita's tearful departure, but.
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