The Prodigal
Two
AFTER A WEEK of attempting to bask in the glow, Kate and I got back to work. We needed a lot of pictures ready for our shows during the holiday season. Six months away!
It was fun to work on something creative for a change. Working on the mural of Tent City became—not drudgery, but… The inspiration and creative part was done before I faced the eighty-foot-wide wall. I didn’t want to produce anything on that scale again. I started inspired, became overwhelmed, spent most of my time panicked, and concluded with relief. I don’t want to spend my life in that cycle.
“Will it disturb you if we work in the studio at the same time?”
I was going through my Bacchanalia sketches to decide which piece I wanted to work on next. It was too bad Pet had sold at the first exhibition. I only had photos of it to refer to as I worked on the rest of the suite. I had three canvases that I’d managed to sketch during rainy days and I wanted to bring my models back for additional posing. Today I was working on the overall theme—sketching and visualizing.
“Of course not,” I said, happy to have company in the studio. “Uh… Who is we?”
“Willow, Sunday, Rainbow, and me,” Kate laughed.
“How did you end up with such a normal-sounding name?”
“Mama got to me before the hippies did,” she laughed. “And who ever said Katarina Mirela Holsinger was a normal-sounding name?” I kissed my lover and we lost our place in the conversation.
“So,” I said, regaining my breath, “what are you four working on?”
“I’m going to try to put them together in a portrait,” Kate said.
“Their whole bodies?”
“Doc wants me to work on capturing more on my canvas than my pinpoint vision.”
“You mean you’re going to paint something larger than the mole next to Rainbow’s left nipple?” I laughed. “I love that piece, by the way. I love everything you paint, Kitten.”
“Yes, but maybe Doc’s right. I need to explore more abstraction and see how the rest of the scene fits. My sibs have agreed to help me.”
“Well, I don’t mind. I don’t have anyone scheduled for posing until next week. I’m just working on the story-flow,” I said.
“You won’t be distracted by their beautiful nude bodies?”
“Nude? You’re doing them nude?”
“Their request.”
“I’ll do my best not to stare… all the time,” I panted. The three sixteen-year-olds were beautiful kids. They’d relaxed into our household in the month they’d been with us, picking up chores and responsibilities as naturally as if they’d been raised with us. I still loved the image in my mind of the three of them dancing naked in the background as Kate and Wendy danced near my drums. I might have to paint that.
The day in the studio was fun. I had half-a-dozen sketchbooks with roughs and sketches of the various tableaus in Bacchanalia and a large, comprehensive sketch that I was ready to paint on an eight-by-four-foot canvas similar to the mural wall rendering. Something held me back and I hadn’t started yet. I’d erased portions and added new vignettes. It still wasn’t there, but it was getting closer. I wasn’t sure I’d have the whole thing for a show in December, though.
I spent most of the afternoon in my chair in the studio, making notes and sketching out additions. I was perfectly positioned to watch Kate pose and draw the three teens. I tried not to stare, but they were all so damned beautiful. I don’t mean model-like beauty like Lissa, but a fresh innocence that lit their faces when they looked at each other. It inspired me and I started sketching.
Kate had built a set from cushions and the chaise that we often used. It was the kind of scene I’d create, with lots of drapery and soft, low light. Sunday sat with Rainbow lying across her and Willow partially on each of them. They seemed to take joy in being naked together, even though their sister was watching and sketching them. I went for a cup of coffee and passed behind Kate. I laughed to myself. The three were sprawled in front of her on the chair, fully nude, but Kate’s drawing only showed their faces as they looked at each other, talking softly.
As I returned to my chair, Rainbow’s eyes followed me. I went back to sketching and caught a motion out of the corner of my eye. I looked up and saw that Rainbow was still looking at me with an evil glint in her eye. Ever so slowly, her legs parted. From Kate’s perspective, I doubt that she noticed the minor shift, especially as focused as she was on their faces. From my angle, I was looking directly into her crotch. Lying on her left thigh, like an arrow pointing the way, Willow’s erection twitched occasionally. And damn, the kid’s hung! They were aroused, even though they kept their pose for the most part.
We worked for about four hours. As everyone got dressed, I asked if they’d be up for another posing session. I got grins all the way around.
“I think I’ve unleashed monsters,” Kate sighed.
“We think you’re wonderful,” Sunday said. “Thank you both—and the whole family—for letting us come to live with you. Even if Rainbow is a big tease.” Rainbow had the good grace to blush and I promised I’d tell Kate about it later.
“Anybody speak Spanish?” I asked as I opened a letter that had come in the mail.
“Silly boy,” Allie said. “You know that I do. Oh look! I got one, too.” She ripped her letter open and began to read. “La Federación Internacional de Racquetball y la Federación Dominicana de Racquetball tienen el honor de invitarlos a participar en el IRF CAMPEONATO MUNDIAL ELITE DE RACQUETBALL—SANTO DOMINGO.”
“Right,” I said. “What’s it mean?”
“You know what it is,” she laughed. The whole family gathered around and Allison translated. “The International Racquetball Federation and the Dominican Racquetball Federation have the honor to invite you to participate in the IRF ELITE WORLD RACQUETBALL CHAMPIONSHIP—SANTO DOMINGO.”
“Hey, it’s no more expensive than Opens. Just a hundred bucks to register,” I said.
“Registering isn’t the expensive part of this tournament,” Lissa laughed. “You have to get there, first.”
“Where is Santo Domingo?” I asked.
“World map time,” Melody sang. She had her laptop open with a map in one window and airfares in another. “Here we are. That little island just east of Cuba.”
“That’s a long flight,” Allison said.
“You guys have your passports?” Kate asked.
“It’s still never been used,” I said.
“You’ve never been out of the country?” Allison asked. Disbelief was written all over her face. I just shook my head.
“We’re all going to start traveling soon,” Melody said. “But look at these airfares.”
I looked at the screen and gasped.
“That’s one of the reasons I’ve never been out of the country! A thousand bucks just to fly coach for… what?… twelve hours? Oh man.”
“It’s only eight hours in the air,” Lissa said calmly. “There’s a four-hour layover in Miami.”
“And a hundred twenty a night? How long is the tournament?”
“The dates are the fourth through the eleventh. That’s seven days. Figure at least a day ahead of time—no, make it two days—to get used to the change in climate and time zone,” Lissa said. “I did a photo shoot at Playa El Tesorillo near San Cristobal years ago. God, it was fun!”
“Yeah, but nine days. That’s another thousand. Plus, food.”
“That’s what sponsorships are made for,” Lissa said.
“What?” Allison and I looked at each other blankly.
“World’s will be the international debut forum for Ice Queen Sportswear. As our official representatives, the company is picking up first class airfare and a hotel suite for our two Intercollegiate champions in Santo Domingo. Book ’em, Melody,” Lissa said.
“What? Doesn’t something like that require a board decision?”
“Nope,” Melody answered. “It’s a directive of the chief executive.”
“You guys!” Allie was practically whimpering beside me. We collapsed on Lissa and Melody, hugging them and kissing them.
“Better not book the flights yet,” Kate said. “According to this letter attached, you are supposed to be in Stockton, California for ten days of training before the team departs for Santo Domingo from LA. Gosh, you guys are going to be gone a long time!”
“I think we can arrange some company for the two of you in California,” Lissa said. “I’ve wanted to work with Coach Dan Elliot for a couple of years. I plan to learn all I can that week.”
“I’ve sent off our offer of new team uniforms to the USAR which makes Raquethon and us co-sponsors of Team USA,” Melody added.
While we were talking, a hand slipped into mine. I glanced up to see Kate smiling at me. It would be okay.
“Come on. It will be fun and you two need the competition and practice more than I do. There aren’t that many summer tournaments,” Lissa said. Allison and I wagged our heads in confusion.
“But we don’t play doubles,” Allie said. “I don’t even know how.”
“And I play doubles with you,” I complained. “Allie and I would need weeks to get ready.”
“You’re getting a crash course,” Lissa said. “There aren’t any other tournaments before you leave. You need to play against competition and this will be a fun tournament. You’ll get five matches, win or lose. It’s round robin. I talked the tournament director into letting you in.”
“Can we practice a little first?” I asked. Allie and I had been focusing our play time competing with each other. I knew how much we’d have to adjust to play in partnership. This was going to be brutal, but Lissa was firm. We were headed to Friday Harbor for the Rusty Pollock Memorial Tournament this weekend. We needed some practice time.
Ever since the big deposit in our bank account after our gallery opening, I’d been convinced that I was an artist and all I had to do was paint. But now I had to also be a racquetball player—and a good one. Practice took priority for the foreseeable future. That sucked.
Allison and I headed for the court where Brent and Franklin were waiting to take us on. It was embarrassing. Brent and Franklin had moved up to serious competition and Lissa convinced them to compete in Friday Harbor as well, even though it was the weekend after spring quarter ended at SCU.
Playing with Allison was similar to my first outing playing with Lissa. We stumbled all over and I was seriously concerned we’d injure ourselves. The two guys nailed us in three straight games and then Lissa had us split up. She put Tonya and Bree in with Brent and Franklin and had Allie and me work on just reading each other. Of course, that meant contact and Lissa went so far as to get a couple of those exercise bands from the fitness center and literally tie our waists together. She gave us room to stretch the band about four feet. And she made us play that way for an hour, just hitting the ball to each other. Staying out of the way of each other’s swing slowed us down.
When I came out of the club Tuesday night after three hours of practice, I just wanted to go home and eat. I was exhausted and starved. I was not happy when Lissa fastened the two of us together again.
“Hey! What gives?” I asked.
“You and Allie need to learn to connect. You do it with me on the court. You do it with Kate when you paint. You do it with Melody when you’re having sex.” We all laughed at that one. It did seem that Melody and I always knew what the other wanted or needed when we were making love. But this wasn’t the same. As we struggled to get in the car, Lissa continued. “I’m keeping you strapped together for the rest of the week. If you need personal time, that can be arranged, but basically, you’re going to know when Allie is moving as soon as she does. You’ll know the pressure on her bladder and when she needs to pee. You’ll know exactly how she moves when I eat her to orgasm. And Allie’s going to know you the same way.
“But I have painting to do, too.”
“And I have to meet with my director at the Wagon Wheel. They want me to start rehearsing to open right after Labor Day,” Allie said.
“Like I said, if you need personal time, we can make that arrangement, but if you can arrange your times right, Allie should listen to your music with you and move with you while you paint. Tony, you should stand with Allie on stage while she auditions. That might be going a little too far,” Lissa laughed. “But now you need to figure out how to buckle your seatbelts and then get home for food and a hot tub.”
We succeeded. Don’t ask me how. We almost fell in the tub, but we managed to get in and out. I swear that Allison’s hips were moving in synch with mine as she humped Lissa’s face and I buried myself in Melody. On Wednesday we disconnected long enough for Allie to go to her meeting and me to paint before we reconnected on the court. Thursday, Allie listened to my music and moved with me while I painted. A little later, I stood with her while she had a voice lesson. That was weird. I started breathing in time with her.
We looked bizarre as we all drove up to Anacortes to catch the ferry to Friday Harbor. There were five of us, so we took the Escape. We had rooms at the Friday Harbor House, ate at the welcome dinner, and went to bed that night with Allie and me still lashed together. Lissa didn’t let us out of our get-up until it was time to walk onto the court for our first match.
We did well. We won three of our five matches and ended up in third place. Brent and Franklin won second in their meet. And we had a great time doing it. That night, Allie and I connected in a different way and had no problem reading each other’s moves.
Comments
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