Helens eyes kept their focus on Greta. ‘When did you decide this? Things are a bit complicated…’ ‘I’m prepared to move out,’ Greta said. �...�That’s no problem. Infact I can move out right now if you don’t mind being kept under house arrest. Your lover boy is a suspect in a murder case.’ Helen turned to Harry. ‘Is that true? Are you? Is it because of Hoffman?’ ‘Ah, so you also know of this Hoffman?’ Greta asked. ‘That’s interesting because now we are starting to get some answers. Helen, would you. Andrea's here too and we were just having some tea before we get started. I finished the rough sketch yesterday after you left and now I'm ready to start with some paint. I thought I'd start with the backdrop and work toward the subject." Sounds like a good plan. Here's something to be careful about, though. For every minute you focus on a detail, back up a couple of steps and spend a minute looking at the whole picture. Too much focus on one small area of the painting will wind up distorting. From his backpack, he drew out a small grease paint kit and began to apply it to his face. When he was finished, he turned to me and began to paint MY face! Every movement of his fingers was perfectly defined and sensuous, and as he trailed his oily fingers over my nose, cheeks, and lips, I began to feel a tingle in my pussy. Then from somewhere, he materialized three glowing balls that he began juggling in the air. Every once in awhile he would stop and add another ball, until he had five. His muscles and joints felt stiff from confinement in the healing chamber during their long voyage from Earth aboard the T'shu-niachMichael had not seen himself in a mirror, but looking down at himself, at his chest, waist, arms and legs, he knew that he had undergone a profound transformation. His body no longer bore the scars of two wars, the Siple Island helicopter crash, or the Pahsimeroi Valley gunshot wound. His skin was smooth and unblemished, the skin of a mature male, firm and slightly.