Not without a mental condition of some kind. Or a stubborness born of spite.Thus she felt that when one person, with his or her myriad personalities, ...et another person, with his or her mixed-bag, the chances of things going swimmingly after that were rather slim. It made happily ever after the rarity it is.Two such mish-mashes that clashed head on would lead to a cluttered, disarrayed mish-mish, and disharmony could, or would, ensue. They most certainly would not be 'made for each other.' And. ”“Okay.”“Shouldn’t that be ‘Yes, sir’?” I whispered in her ear. She shuddered.“Yes, sir,” she whispered back. I placed a hand on her back to unnecessarily correct her posture and let it slide down to her butt. Then I got the painting I’d worked on all week and cross-checked it for her pose. Just about perfect. I moved the vertical easel behind Eva and pushed the painting up against her back. She caught her breath as the cool surface came in contact with her skin. I moved around in front to. More

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