Diane Romanello Diane Romanello Sunset Beach paintingGustav Klimt The Virgins (Le Vergini) paintingGustav Klimt The Fulfillment (detail I) painting
"Let me be the man," her chest boomed into the stethoscope, "and You be the woman."
But I put down the instrument and shook my head. "I don't know, Anastasia. I don't see --"
I was interrupted by a vigorous pounding on the one-way mirror. Anastasia first gasped and snatched about her for cover, then thought better of it, let go the sheet she'd half torn from the examination-table, and beckoned with her finger at the unknown pounder, with the other hand displaying her pudenda in the manner of those carvenshelah-na-gigs -- which she must have noted upon my stick. Peter Greene burst into the room, all crimson face and orange hair and blinking eyes; he it was who'd pounded; but he'd not come at her beck -- nor to berate her, though he cried, "I seen what you was up to, Lacey Stoker, what I mean lewdwise! Trying to flunk the Grand Tutor!" Anastasia blushed red as Greene, either at his rebuke or at her nakedness before him; but she contrived to stay her ground, put her hands on her hips, and regard him with her eyes half closed and her head half turned -- a really quite provocative stance, considering how unnaturally it came to her. Greene got to the point of his alarum.
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