"He's... you, I think," Ellie said. "When I painted him, he was just... an ideal." An... ideal? Your ideal?" The concept seemed strange to me, on seve...al levels. First of all, the young man in the portrait was pleasant-looking. He looked sweet-natured, peaceable -- even handsome. He was the kind of young man that three waitresses, in a small cafe, might giggle over, behind the cash register, as he drank his morning coffee and read the sports pages of the local paper.But... an ideal? Hardly! It. I explained it may push her away from him but he replied I need to know and if I watch you I may see if I could do it. I then told him I would have to talk with her first as you cannot just attack someone like that without their say so.(ok some would but not me)I agreed to come round that Saturday with some equipment and on knocking at the door he let me in. This time she was naked in the corner, hands on head. He had told her I was coming but not what was to happen, and she had agreed to me. More

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