“It’s an orgasm.”I almost found my way through my own maroon mist and to the yellow light at that moment.We continued on, me bullshitting my way... she interpreting every painting as being about sex. Was she a cruel mirage? A ghost that haunted the gallery, coaxing erections from patrons? Or just some cray little nymph who got her kicks this way?We sat on some leather seats. I saw the security guard leave the room. I was gesturing towards the first painting again.“Yes, I think I can see the point. I was between the wall and the friend, who I knew as Margie. While my mother was shuffling the deck, Margie decided to lie on her left side, propped up on her left elbow, and placed her bare feet on the edge of the bed.I stopped what I was doing and went to the end where her feet were. I began touching them with my fingers and then with my palms. Margie started giggling and wiggling her toes. She then placed her right sole on my face so that the ball of her foot touched my lips. She left it. More

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