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Julie Moore looked around the Argon Gallery on 52nd Street in New York City and realized that if she was accepted by this gallery, if in fact her next one woman show was to be presented there… she would be made in the art scene. All the greats of the new movement were represented in this gallery, Larry Rutherford, Andrew Wylan, Georgia Morris, just to name a few and she Julie Moore hoped to join their ranks.
She caught sight of herself in a long baroque mirror on the far wall of the main gallery, not bad, not bad she mused to herself as she took in her tall lithe figure, her shapely legs extending from her mini skirt, her large firm breasts amply displayed in her stretch knit top. She was glad that she had worn her long blonde hair down, she flailed it around a little the way her model friend Carole did when she was goofing around in her studio, and flashed her mischievous green eyes at herself. She had heard that Philip Randolph was quite susceptible to women and she intended to pull a little at his heart strings… not that she wanted more than that, she was too loyal to her husband Randy… still she didn’t mind a little flirtation here and there, it was good for the Soul! Besides, of late she had seen so little of Randy that she needed a little flirtation to stop her from getting too horny.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.