But on that particular evening ambition intersected with desire at a trendy art gallery.
Her catering job got her through the doors; her willowy figure caught the eye of the hot young sculpture.
And now, after several Cosmopolitans at an after-hours club, she sat in front of that artist contemplating life. The artist seemed interested in her work saying he would stop by her flat some time to see it. Was this a break or was it a line to get her into bed?
She could easily just go home and make a living painting murals in those McMansions outside of
and probably marry a lawyer. But in the gathering dark of his studio she knew that fate was about to commit her image to his clay and perhaps her body to his flesh. Charlotte