blonde. The man in the painting fisted it in his desire as it cascaded around her shoulders. Quentin shivered. Even he was not immune to the passion in the piece. His eyes shifted to the poem and, again, he was captured in the poet’s web as he read:
Second Chance
Remember when it went wrong,
When the fabric of our universe tore…frayed…dissolved?
But then you turned back time
and we escaped from the prison of withered desire
I flung my arms wide and embraced
passion newborn.
Because you turned back time
I dance naked, joyously teasing the fiery sun,
safe in the knowledge that even Apollo’s
warmth cannot compare to
the heat of your caresses.
When you turned back time
I found the way to nurture
soft, sweet words
in my emerald meadow
I wound around you, a clear, cooling stream
soothing and nourishing,
helping you, in turn, to feel renewed.
And in that renewing
found my own magic
with you.
Beside the poem hung a placard that told about the artist and the poet. It read:
The medium of our work is not important. It varies from piece to piece. We do not focus on techniques or styles. We simply focus on the same thing we’d like you to focus on—the true magic of love, which will always transcend time and disbelief. May all of you live happily ever after.…
—JUSTIN AND CANDICE WOODS
IT’S IN HIS KISS…
(Title hummed to the tune of Cher
singing “The Shoop Shoop Song”)
To Gyna Snowater
with love from P. C. Castwater.
We rock when we team up, baby!
1
“All right, we’re going to start a new unit, so get out your folders and get ready to take notes,” Summer said in what she liked to hope was her best Teacher Voice.
“What’s the new unit, Miss S.?” called a male voice from the rear of the class.
Summer frowned. Was it disrespectful to call her Miss S.? Oh, Goddess! Another question she’d have to ask her sister on the phone tonight. She cleared her throat and tried to look severe and ten years older. “Shakespeare’s
Romeo and Juliet.
”
The girls in the class sighed and looked dreamy. The boys groaned.
“Hey, I hear there’s sex in that play,” came the same voice from the rear of the class.
“Well, yes. Actually it’s a play about star-crossed lovers whose families won’t let them be together,” said Summer.
The girls smiled. The boys rolled their eyes.
“So that means there’s sex in it. Lots, actually,” Summer said before her mind caught up with her mouth.
“Cool!”
“Of course, it’s all written in Elizabethan English,” she hastily amended, reconnecting with the excellent control she usually had over everything she said or did.
“Sucks fairy butt,” said a surly voice from the other side of the room.
“So we won’t get it?” asked a cute blonde in the front row who wore a short, pink cheerleading uniform with fighting fairies emblazoned across her perky bosom.
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get it,” Summer said.
“Awesome!” chorused several annoying male voices, accompanied by giggles from the girls.
“Hey, Miss Smith, can we watch the movie?” asked the cheerleader.
“The one that shows Juliet’s boobs!” called the irritating male voice. Which kid was that, anyway? Maybe she should move him up closer. (As if she wanted the annoying child
closer
to her? Ugh.)
“I’ll think about the movie,” Summer said firmly. “What we
are
going to see is an art exhibit of Pre-Raphaelite paintings that features Ford Madox Brown’s famous
Romeo and Juliet
balcony scene.”
The classroom went dead silent. Finally a pleasantly plump redheaded girl who sat smack in the center of the class smiled up at Summer through extra-thick glasses and a face full of unfortunate zits and said, “You mean we’re taking a field trip?”
“Yes, we’re taking a
Second Chance
Remember when it went wrong,
When the fabric of our universe tore…frayed…dissolved?
But then you turned back time
and we escaped from the prison of withered desire
I flung my arms wide and embraced
passion newborn.
Because you turned back time
I dance naked, joyously teasing the fiery sun,
safe in the knowledge that even Apollo’s
warmth cannot compare to
the heat of your caresses.
When you turned back time
I found the way to nurture
soft, sweet words
in my emerald meadow
I wound around you, a clear, cooling stream
soothing and nourishing,
helping you, in turn, to feel renewed.
And in that renewing
found my own magic
with you.
Beside the poem hung a placard that told about the artist and the poet. It read:
The medium of our work is not important. It varies from piece to piece. We do not focus on techniques or styles. We simply focus on the same thing we’d like you to focus on—the true magic of love, which will always transcend time and disbelief. May all of you live happily ever after.…
—JUSTIN AND CANDICE WOODS
IT’S IN HIS KISS…
(Title hummed to the tune of Cher
singing “The Shoop Shoop Song”)
To Gyna Snowater
with love from P. C. Castwater.
We rock when we team up, baby!
1
“All right, we’re going to start a new unit, so get out your folders and get ready to take notes,” Summer said in what she liked to hope was her best Teacher Voice.
“What’s the new unit, Miss S.?” called a male voice from the rear of the class.
Summer frowned. Was it disrespectful to call her Miss S.? Oh, Goddess! Another question she’d have to ask her sister on the phone tonight. She cleared her throat and tried to look severe and ten years older. “Shakespeare’s
Romeo and Juliet.
”
The girls in the class sighed and looked dreamy. The boys groaned.
“Hey, I hear there’s sex in that play,” came the same voice from the rear of the class.
“Well, yes. Actually it’s a play about star-crossed lovers whose families won’t let them be together,” said Summer.
The girls smiled. The boys rolled their eyes.
“So that means there’s sex in it. Lots, actually,” Summer said before her mind caught up with her mouth.
“Cool!”
“Of course, it’s all written in Elizabethan English,” she hastily amended, reconnecting with the excellent control she usually had over everything she said or did.
“Sucks fairy butt,” said a surly voice from the other side of the room.
“So we won’t get it?” asked a cute blonde in the front row who wore a short, pink cheerleading uniform with fighting fairies emblazoned across her perky bosom.
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get it,” Summer said.
“Awesome!” chorused several annoying male voices, accompanied by giggles from the girls.
“Hey, Miss Smith, can we watch the movie?” asked the cheerleader.
“The one that shows Juliet’s boobs!” called the irritating male voice. Which kid was that, anyway? Maybe she should move him up closer. (As if she wanted the annoying child
closer
to her? Ugh.)
“I’ll think about the movie,” Summer said firmly. “What we
are
going to see is an art exhibit of Pre-Raphaelite paintings that features Ford Madox Brown’s famous
Romeo and Juliet
balcony scene.”
The classroom went dead silent. Finally a pleasantly plump redheaded girl who sat smack in the center of the class smiled up at Summer through extra-thick glasses and a face full of unfortunate zits and said, “You mean we’re taking a field trip?”
“Yes, we’re taking a
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