"Sarah, I believe you've met yourphotographer already?" Yes," I replied. "It's nice to meet you again, Mr. Gunthrie." Please," he said with a wide gri.... "Call me Greg. It will be my honorto photograph you this morning, Sarah."Greg Gunthrie had been the photographer on my second photo shoot, theshoot where we had made the posters and other marketing material tostart my career. The shoot had started out terribly, with Greg yellingat everyone to get everything done. But after a while, he realized. My eyes watered. My forehead grew tight. I was very tense. It wasn'tnecessary, of course, the legal program could easily scan my eyes fromany direction, but still I let him. I let him lay his hand on myshoulder, which was bare due to the style of my top. Now his hand seemedto be burning against my ice cold shoulder.His voice was low and gentle and I realized with a start that my nippleswere hard.I was aroused.I was fucking aroused.I didn't have any idea what he said and I had no clue as to what. . She clasped her right hand to her chest, trying to still the constant thudding against her ribs. She swallowed, trying to fill the yawning maw of emptiness in the pit of her stomach. Tears streamed across her cheeks and her eyes closed against them. Her nose quivered and a rictus of tragedy loomed upon her features.Teran rested her left hand on the edge of the casket, gripping it even tighter as the unnatural cold of the metal seeped into her skin. She felt it lodging there, biting into her. Her fingers endlessly caressed and probed the empty ring finger at the spot where her wedding band of over ten years had been until just recently. Alone and nearly destitute, she was just sitting in her little dumpy motel room waiting ... just waiting for the official divorce notification paperwork to arrive the day after Christmas.She had nothing to do now except sit and rock away in the little desk chair. Even the old vintage television set was broken and the surly motel clerk showed no signs.