Clarice was adamant that nothing left our studio without being photographed first. The huge painting that my exhibition took its title from—Bacchana...ia—was finished, but every so often I would spot something on it and touch the paint a little. Clarice caught me one day and watched as I tweaked the flesh-tone on one of my figures.“Tony,” she said, “it takes two people to paint a masterpiece.”“Huh?”“One to put paint on the canvas and one to hang the artist. Don’t get caught in the trap of. “I’m pretty sure this wasn’t what Daddy had in mind when we got home and he found out what Bobby did on our date.”“Would you please stop blaming me?” moaned Bobby, whose mind flashed back to Sheryl’s offer to let him fuck her. He hadn’t wanted to do that. A slut would want to fuck any pussy he could find, right? So maybe he wasn’t a slut.“Well, you started it,” said Julie.“Stop fighting,” said Barbie. “Something wonderful happened tonight. I’m glad it happened. I’ve never felt anything like. More

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