We still haven’t settled on a cover image, or if we’re going to put any art on the cover at all (perhaps a piece in the interior). I’ve got this... verbal vignette which I think might describe a great picture (either a photo or a drawing) for the book, and I’m looking for someone who can provide the imagery to go with it. The publisher doesn’t have much money for it, but we may be able to get some honorarium for the artist. So if anyone can come up with the illustration this story describes, and. But still.I do, usually, mean to do the right thing. I make promises to myself. But, truth is, I don’t always mean it. Can an internal misstatement of motive — a lie to myself — be, on some level, aspirational? Understandable?Out there somewhere is someone I would like to be ... intend to be. Yet, I can’t pretend to be outside of my own moral concerns. Can’t ignore the salience of my own behavior. The lawlessness.On the other hand, I can’t live my life like I’m in a ... an austere Presbyterian. ” She cut herself off, and cleared her throat. “Let’s get your machine under cover and safe. I expect you’ll want to make a call to tell people where you are?” She didn’t wait for a response, but moved up to the Ranger. “Come on, I’m pretty strong, even at my age, but I’ll need your help to push.”There was a shed – small hangar, really – quite close. She unlocked the door. It was large enough to take the Ranger, even with the wings locked in position, as well as a small, high-winged monoplane;. I was dressed in a flowing black gown and my mask. The gown was split up the rear to my waist line. Once again I wore a black garter and thigh high stockings, with the spike heeled ankle boots. I thought to myself Anna just what have you gotten yourself in to this time? I silently giggled and shook my head and thought f******n, oh make that 15 more men will fuck my poop hole and leave their sperm deep inside my bowels.I knew I had to go to the bed and wait with my head down and my ass up as.