She’s never had any major problems.”“She’s not the one who concerns me,” He leveled his gaze, “Are you telling me there’s no one who loo...s after you, Miss Foster?”Seriously. I swallowed, has he never heard of ‘boundaries’ before? I shuddered, remembering how forward he’d been at the gallery; how he’d cornered me, and kissed my hand—how blunt he’d been about my scar. And I remembered Peter’s ominous warning about him. Should I be telling him all this? My throat tightened. Should I be talking to. I was curious about Andrea being the model for my first oil portrait but obviously she and Mrs. James had come to some kind of arrangement. I wouldn't have asked but they explained it to me anyway.It seems she had talked with Mrs. James way back in October about something her father wanted. Her mom had left them when Andrea was ten and her dad had been raising her as a single parent ever since. He absolutely doted on her and when she told him she would be taking some art lessons from the one. We got off the Metro and wheeled all of our luggage, a not-too-uncommon-sight on the Metro, the two blocks to our hotel, La Maison Montparnasse. Our room, 31, (“trente et un” Michelle taught me how to say) was small but functional. I’m not sure but that we didn’t just unpack and get in bed immediately. Pretty sure we did (!). Dinner was at a local restaurant we walked to, upon recommendation of the proprietor of the hotel. It was lovely. I started with tomatoes and mozzarella, sprinkled with. You haven”t seen Sam in a couple of years, you should see the beer gut on him. Beth said, ”Yeah, Billy has been doing yard-work for me, he”s quite something with his shirt off. I had been listening to this conversation and now, I had an idea. I was still totally naked, so I strolled casually into the kitchen with my dick swinging and said, Hi, Beth, want a cup of coffee or anything else?” You could have heard a pin drop. Mom and Beth were both looking at me not saying a word, each wondering.