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Being polite, I stayed while the curator introduced the featured artist, and then, making an excuse about an early morning meeting, I ducked out, my sanity still somewhat intact. I spotted the curator’s secretary, Marcia, standing near the doorway and asked her if she might have a copy of the guest list. Being the poster child for efficiency, she said she had a spare copy in a folder she had in her hand, and instantly procured the document for me. I thanked her and left. A valet brought my car around, and I headed west out of the city, along the Concord Pike, towards my current abode, a nineteenth century Victorian farm house, settled in the middle of two hundred acres of apple orchards, wooded areas, and fields. There is a steel gate with stone pillars across the entrance to the dirt road which leads to my house. All of my cars have a chip in them which causes the gate open automatically as I approach, and then it closes after I pass through, no need to stop, or even slow down,. Her brown hair clung to her face and small rivers of rain ran down the smooth skin dripping off her chin.I motioned for her to come into the garden. Re latched the gate and we both dashed for the open garage door."Hey, not seen you for a few months" I said gazing at her dark erect nipples and areolas visible through both the soaking wet strapped top and the t shirt supposedly covering everything."Yeah. Been busy with this n that" she said pushing wet hair from her face."I just thought I'd catch up with Carol as I'm on holiday." She not told you. She's at university."I reached for some kitchen roll and pulled a few sheet off and gave it to Helen."Oh, which one, she never said. But to be honest we haven't spoke much since last May".She dried her face and started to pat down her arms then began on her legs, bending slightly over."She's back in town tomorrow though. Jane is driving down to pick her up. She should be well on her way now."She stopped patting herself dry and passed me back.
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