"I've never been much of a fan, but I think I'm seeing it anew tonight. I wouldn't say it is feminine so much as sensuous. I mean, this painting you are looking at reminds me of you." He runs his hands down my sides and then rests them on my hips.
"Really?" I ask as my eyes wander over the waves of soft color blending into each other. "How does it remind you of me?"
"You really want to know?" He pauses, and I sense that his idea must be sexual, which O'Keefe's work is certainly noted for. I can feel his hot breath on my neck, and his fingers press firmly into the flesh at the swell of my hips.