“You stay in my good graces?”  Susan said and Doyle leaned forward, her lower lips caressing the outer edge of Susan’s ear and whispering to her the reason Bette Porter knew her, and just how well she knew her.

~*~*~*~*~*

            Candace found Bette first, walking up behind her and sliding her arms around her lover’s waist, kissing her gently on the neck.  Bette stiffened momentarily, then relaxed as she recognized Candace’s touch.  Having been half expecting Doyle to catch her by surprise, again, instead it was Candace.

            “Bette, why are you a pack of nerves?  You’re more nervous than a long tailed cat in a room filled with moving rocking chairs.  Tell me?”  Candace asked, rubbing her lower back gently, teasingly.

            “I just don’t like this, any of this.  Helena is trying to weasel in…” Bette said, seeing Doyle moving with Susan in an erotic dance of ages.

            “She isn’t.  She is an art lover for the sake of loving art.”  Candace stated, turning her away from the action and into her arms.  Kissing Bette gently, then with more reverence.  Bette thought ruefully that she too, had once been a lover of art for the sake of art, all that was lost now.  It was politics and money.

            “Ok,” Bette pulled out of the kiss, “but….”

            “Honey, what’s wrong?” Candace’s eyes darkened with worry.

            “Has…”  Bette’s brow furrowed, “has Helena talked to you yet?”

            “About what?”  Candace ticked her head to the sight and gave Bette a curious look.