The picture that had taken the place of the oil portrait over her bed at home was one of the first things she'd brought to our new place. I guess both...of us had gotten so used to seeing it hanging there that neither had thought about taking the rather personal image off the wall before Bill's crew showed up."You're a photographer, right?" he asked. "Did you take that picture?" I admitted it was one of mine."Any chance of meeting the model?" his partner added, not quite drooling over my lady's. We both reach into the bag at the same time, his hand lingers before his fingertips tickle the palm of my hand as he withdraws it. I nibble on the corn, licking the stickiness off my fingers before replacing my arm back on the arm rest between us. I feel his hand slip behind my elbow, and he softly traces his fingernails against the inside of my arm, which responds, making the tiny hairs stand on end and my skin becomes covered in goose bumps. I manage to repress a giggle but not the shaky. At the end of the day, I'll be just another fucking statistic to him. I'll go in his win column if he gets me to come in or I'll go down as a loss if I jump.The expression on his face tells me more than his words do. His voice is calming and almost seductive. The message I hear says that I should take his hand and come in from the ledge. Whatever my problems are, we can work them out. The barely disguised look on his face says that he wouldn't mind seeing me take a swan dive from the ninth. I jumped up to answer the door. I ushered him in, andallowed him to "check me out." He stepped in, gave me the "once Over"with his eyes, and exclaimed "Honey, you are one hot dame!" I thankedhim, and escorted him over to my couch, and said, "Why don't you sit downand rest a few minutes after that long walk from the bar." He thanked meand plopped down on my couch. We made small talk for a few minutes, as Iwas waiting for at least another one to show up. After about fifteenminutes, I gave up.