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A little preview of my nearer-to-release second illustrated story, "A Handy Man". ========================== Samantha walked to the parking garage with mixed feelings. Her lunch date with Bob had quickly proven a waste of time. He was attractive, but he’d already bored her to tears by the time the food arrived. On the other hand, the denim skirt she’d found while shopping afterward looked incredible on her, and it was so deeply discounted that she didn’t even feel guilty for buying it. Granted, it was a bit short and daring for a woman of thirty-seven, but all those considerations had vanished as she admired how good it looked in the mirrors of the changing room. A bit of daring might just be the thing to catch the eye of someone better than Boring Bob – who wasn't even the low point of her return to dating after the divorce. She sighed, thinking back to how she'd arrived here, as she had so many times the last few years. Lack of common sense – and a condom – had sent her to the altar already pregnant at eighteen. She'd married too young, and the stress of raising a child on top of it didn't help. They'd made it work for fifteen long years, but when she caught him with a bimbo not much older than their daughter, that was the end of it. Despite the troubled marriage, they had done well financially. What had started with a pair of rental properties had ended with a large apartment building in the city and a complex in the suburbs. She ended up with the suburban properties, where they'd made their home for the last few years. After a rocky start, what she'd passively learned from her ex combined with determination to keep her comfortably in the black. Determination – unfortunately – wasn't helping her overcome the learning curve of dating, which she'd only had limited experience with so long ago. As much as she wanted love and romance, at this point, she would settle for passion. At nearly six months and counting since she'd had sex with anyone other than herself, it was becoming more than a little depressing. Enough of that, she thought upon reaching the garage. Giving a shake of her head that rustled her blonde locks, she chased the dark thoughts away. With her daughter enrolled in college, but safely close by in one of the apartments she owned, she could put some focus on getting a life of her own now. Traffic was a nightmare, forcing her to concentrate on the crazy people around her rather than the sob story her inner voice was trying to foist off on her. When she reached the saner quarters of the suburbs, her thoughts had turned to relaxing by the television with some ice-cream and catching up with recorded episodes of her favorite television shows. By some miracle, none of her tenants interrupted her, and no other pressing business came up. By doing a little housework, and then rewarding herself with another episode, she made a fair dent in both cleaning and the programs on the DVR. With evening upon her, she decided to turn in early, expecting that the lucky break would probably come back to bite her in the butt tomorrow. As she showered, the feeling of the water splashing on her body and her hands running over her skin served to send her hormones racing. She could count the number of times she'd had sex since the divorce on the fingers of one hand, and those fingers had gotten quite a workout lately. In the last couple of years, her libido had gone into overdrive for reasons unknown. She tried to resist, rinsing away the last of the lather from her body and stepping out to towel dry. It didn't work. ============== One of the images from the story is on my "About" page, where I run down how I make these. Here's another I finished recently.