<strong>Seven Steps to Success College, Art Studio B<br/></strong><br/><br/>Alan had been working for what seemed like forever on this particular project, mostly because he had wanted it to last as long as possible. Here now, sitting squat and akimbo on a rotting stool, with one hand delicately working on final details,  eyes darting between muse and canvas, even now struggling with lack of light in this particular studio. During these, the final stages, Alan feared that his already weak excuses for getting her to stay just a few moments longer were now simply pathetic, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep up the charade.<br/><br/>With a few more strokes of his brush, he could finally stop pleading and start partying; hopefully with her, and that wonderfully heaving chest... He pulled his hair away from his eyes, and, as if in a dream, he stayed his hand at his own hirsute cheek. A momentary pause for the beauty that would likely soon disappear. Then, he shook his head suddenly, as if splashed with cold water, and attempted to regain focus on the task at hand. A few more passes of the eye, a deep inhale for the scent of his calling, his art, his science of mixing acrylic and chemicals for some higher calling. A sigh of satisfaction, with just a hint of resignation,  passed his lips as he set the brush down across the palette on the table next to him.<br/><br/>"Well, Cassandra,  this I think is my greatest work yet." He heaved the easel around so that she could view the finished product that they had both been working on together for so many long nights. He thought he saw excitement in her eyes. If only that could be payment enough.<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>