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A luminescence touched her, secret and sensitive, rousing a thrill in her loins that left her trembling and for the moment she was held transfixed. When she could move it was to search for the painter’s name. There in the right hand lower corner in a delicate swirl of frothy pigment the artist had spelled out an ambiguous, ‘Moore’. Vivienne returned to the blossom, and to the echoes of sensation still welling within her. Her tongue gently laved her upper lip as she shook her head in perplexity. ‘Moore? You better might say ‘MORE’!’ she sighed to herself. She stepped back into the space of the atrium without turning around, held by the painting and the resonance of the emotion. That dark space within her was echoing with sensation, pulsing open, hungry with agitation, embracing an emptiness urgent for fulfilling satisfaction. Vivienne took a deep breath. Who was this ‘Moore’ who had moved her in this way? Was it just the memories of her maidenly awakening with Kyle still echoing. Life continued on and I was on pins and needles awaiting Sandman to get back to me. It’s hard to plan for the future when you don’t know if you’re doing it alone or not. I got a bit of a scare a couple of weeks later when Kelly phoned me questioning our joint bank account balance. I told her some cock and bull story about lending Dad some money and when Dad sold the house we would get the money back. She seemed satisfied with that answer. The weeks dragged on to a month and I was starting to get worried. I left a few messages for Sandman but he told me to stop worrying and he was on to something. Christmas was fast approaching and I really wanted this sorted before the end of the year. I got a call early December from Sandman he told me we had to meet. We ended back at the cop hangout ironically in the same booth. Sandman was all smiles which worried me straight off. We ordered a couple of beers made some small talk and he passed over an envelope. ‘Open it Rog, it’s good news’ I.
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