“Let's take a break,”the artist said. “Something's not right.”
Clarissa gratefully shifted on the stool as she took the cup and saucer from him. Lifting a slender leg she rested a foot on the crossbar. She drank of a little, and as her body shifted, wide lace that edged her bodice, slipped silently down her soft pale skinned arms, revealing a promise of small, perky breasts. Platinum blond tresses tumbled over her shoulders.
Suddenly, Clarissa caught sight of someone outside. Her face exuded animated longing, and her eyes turned a misty blue.
“Yes!” The artist immediately continued sketching.