That evening she was wrapped in a white sheet, sitting at my desk and writing quickly in her notebook. The sheet dipped below her shoulder blades and her hair hung on one side of her head. Her neck and upper back were bare. That image was more beautiful and seductive than anything I’d ever seen. I wish I’d taken a picture or went over to her and covered her bare skin with kisses. Anything to make my memory of that moment more poignant. Earlier we had made love and talked in bed for an hour before she got up and sat at the desk. I knew it was only a matter of minutes until her pen stopped and the paper was in shreds.
When we first met, I was in the midst of a crisis of confidence. The only one I’d had in my life regarding the career path I’d chosen, or that was chosen for me. I woke up one
