"I then felt the need that almost everyone feels when they first wakeup:a call from Mother Nature.I made it to the bathroom in time and I also remembe...ed I now had to sitdown. My mother must have read my mind, like most mothers can do. Iheard her whisper through the door. "Dean, you'll need to wipe fromfront to back when you are done."As I sat there, I felt the pain of hunger. "Mom I need some breakfastbefore we go out." It is sitting on the table, I laid out one of my housecoats for you. If I hadn't been so overwhelmed it would have been a very exotic experience.----- I just stood there, banished the problem of being a half naked woman on a public beach from my mind and concentrated on the baby. I was repulsed! The transfer had to come soon! I tried again and was repelled again. The pimp pulled on my arm. "Let me go!" I demanded in Diane's voice but he was too strong. His assault made caused me to lose concentration. With my natural body's help, I tried to keep from being. Now you would probably wonder who’d buy these paintings and the answer is simple, a rich fucker with too much money and spare time, so he collected this kind of thing. He was Richard Bankerman. He had his own gallery of morbid art work, he had bought my last 5 portraits and I now found myself working for him. One day I expressed to him I was out of it, I was done painting such things. My problem was I was too negative for my own good. I really wanted to change so I told him I was done selling. It wasn’t that cold really, it was the damp that seemed to penetrate and chill my bones to the marrow. Moisture clung to my coat in grey pearls. All in all, I was thoroughly miserable. We’d gone just over a mile when I saw another figure, bundled against the weather, trudging up the beach towards me. Trotsky chose that moment to disgrace himself and took off like a cream and brown rocket straight for the stranger. Magic started to follow but responded to my whistle. I could see Trotsky bouncing.