Babies By The Busload. Raye Morgan

      She felt as though she were moving in a misty fantasy. It was completely unreal. His face hovered over hers, his lips almost touching her, but not quite. She held her breath, overwhelmed by his closeness, feeling faint, feeling a swoon coming on—and then she heard him swear under his breath and she realized he was gritting his teeth.

      “Enough?” he called out, still holding her in that impossible position.

      “No, wait a minute. We need a little more passion, Jack. And move to the left a little. The light wasn’t set up right. Try this.”

      The crew went on and on, posing them in every imaginable combination. His anger was growing and it was beginning to show through. But she was moving in a dream, as though she couldn’t do anything else, as though she had no will of her own. She was involved, but somehow she was also a fly on the wall, watching this as if from afar. She was participant and observer, all at the same time, and for the moment, nothing seemed real.