Bwah!

That's some good commentary there. I like A.

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Oh, A is great, and has a wonderful eye for that perfect descriptive detail that says it all. One thing we were discussing after we agreed that I had, for the most part, written a satisfactorily hot scene was how the characters should react post-kiss when they realize that, oops, they've been doing something hella inappropriate and are now going to have to live with the consequences. We decided we needed some kind of action for Jack to go with his dialogue ("Bloody hell."), but J and I couldn't think what. A thought for a moment and said, "He'll be running his hand through his hair--because that's where Anna was touching him.") Perfect, no?

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Definitely not too shabby. Will he be aware of it? Jack, I mean?

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Will he be aware of it? Jack, I mean?

Yep, I think so. I haven't decided exactly where I'm going to switch into his POV, though--what I've got so far in this scene is all Anna.

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"The upper half of my body agrees with you, but the lower half likes the way it's written."

Oh, honey. I think you have to type that up in pretty font, frame it, and place it somewhere in your sight line, when you're writing. What a great, great comment!

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So, Jack's hand running through his hair, and comes away with a sense memory of Anna? And he knows it? Does she know it?

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Susan, that is so neat. I like Cindy's idea.

More torture.

Photo #4.

Baptismal

It wasn't for much pay, the scrubbing and wringing, but it was for always. A guaranteed income was a good thing; it put butter on the table in addition to the bread. Sometimes, even a good, thick piece of sausage for stew. Her babies were going to grow up strong, a testament to the care of their mother. And the work was no harder than what any other village woman had to do, especially in the way of conscience. Hers was as clean as the prisine, smoothly ironed sheets that she returned to Madame Tilda's for her back room work.

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#4

He came there often, but never spoke. He'd stand quietly and watch her as she washed, meeting her eyes calmly whenever she looked over - no embarrassment, no invitation, nor even interest.

Somehow he made her feel the interloper, and she self-consciously broke eye contact, irritated at herself each time. This was her space, where her work was done.

She felt that familiar presence away from the river sometimes, late at night, when she was the one out of place, hurrying home after hours. But try as she might, she couldn't pick him out of the darkened alleyways as she passed.

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Both of you, those are wonderful. And they could be about the same character, rather than the same photo.

Susan, what a gratifying response. I'm with Cindy--type up the comment and frame it!

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So, Jack's hand running through his hair, and comes away with a sense memory of Anna? And he knows it? Does she know it?

She wouldn't know it, I don't think. She's nothing unusual in the intuition/empathy department, and she's got her own overwhelming rush of physical and emotional sensations to cope with at the moment.

I mean, it was quite some kiss, if I do say so myself.

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