“Angela or Anita or something.” Cindy’s off-hand manner irritates me this morning. It’s not even seven a.m. but we’re both the first ones here every day. This may not be my life’s work, but I’m happy to be helping my sister achieve her dream. She has a passion for wine, and since her second husband died two years ago from a brain tumor, she’s been slowly but surely rebuilding her life. I’ve always had a deep paternal streak, a need to help and care for people. Animals too, for that matter. My sister has a good heart and hasn’t had the best of luck in life through no fault of her own. Her first marriage ended in a divorce from a cheating asshole who I made sure understood the error of his ways before he disappeared at my direction. So using my business skills and anything else I’ve got to help her get this little venture up and running has come at the perfect time for us both. The hairs on my arms tingle when she says the gallery called. My dick also thickens and my balls jerk tight. The mere mention of the gallery name has me needing a cold shower, and it wasn’t even her that called.
