The Painter (3)

“Hmm,” he responded groggily, still unaware of where he was or who was talking to him.

Stella didn’t know what to do. Should she drive him home or take him to her place?

She wanted a night of fun, but she knew she couldn’t just leave Aston there. So much for a night of fun, she thought.

With much struggle, she was able to get Aston into her car and drive him to her place.

She took him to her room and threw him on the bed, struggling to catch her breath after the entire energy-draining job she had just done.

Aston weighed almost double her own weight, and she experienced the occasional loss of breath while getting him into her car, into her apartment, and up into her room.

She stood there, taking in the piece of art that sprawled out on the bed. If only he would just notice her; if only he would just see her as a woman and not just his agent.

She longed for his touch; she longed to be with him, but he never saw her even though she had been loyal to him in every way.

‘’Sasha,” he murmur