“Let me see your shame,” Michael repeated. “Let me see your shame.”
In front of the mysterious painting, Michael then went to town on his wife, bringing her to an unyielding, uncompromising climax while he shouted profanities, only this time he used no French words. Oddly enough, neither he nor Loretta had any recollection of speaking French during their heated escapade that had gone by.
Loretta wished there was some way to cancel the dinner engagement, so she and Michael could continue their newly discovered flaming passion. She even considered sucking it up and taking yet another round of spanking, bent over the sofa before the painted couple who had egged them on from the canvas in such a way.
“I still feel like they’re watching us,” Loretta remarked as she looked at the painting, ha
