Art Critic
7
Dominating the Scene
“SUSAN, ARTHUR AND I both want to work with you,” Kendra said as she led our model into the studio. “The last time you posed, he really only had time for one quick painting.” Susan giggled a little.
“Sorry about that. I guess I got carried away.”
“I’d say you were out cold,” Morgan laughed. “But the scene was definitely hot.”
“Anyway,” Kendra continued. “Arthur needs to spend more time at the easel and less time… um… getting you into stimulating poses.” I noticed that the entire time Kendra was talking to Susan, she was touching her. Just little light touches on the hand or shoulder, once putting her arm around our model’s waist. Each touch caused another little flare in Susan. “All that’s just to say that at any time, any of us might approach to… adjust your pose a little. Will you give us all permission to do that in Arthur’s stead?”
Susan was looking into my eyes as Kendra ran a hand down her arm. She glanced nervously over to Kendra’s worktable where Morgan was busying herself organizing Kendra’s tools, then to the reading sofa where Annette was jotting down more notes on her story. I knew that they were both concentrating intensely on the conversation Kendra was having and not on their tasks.
“Um… Could… Would it be okay… if your Dolly wore a blindfold?” she whispered to me.
“I think that would be fine,” I said with a nonchalance that I didn’t feel. Annette stood up from her sofa.
“You guys are so mean,” she said as she approached Susan. “You’re scaring my friend.” She put an arm around Susan. “Don’t worry, honey. It’s not going to be a free-for-all. I know you like posing with Arthur and this will be almost like it. He just needs to spend time painting, too. He gets kind of carried away when he has his hands on his little Dolly. I’ll protect you.”
“You… um… don’t mind that we got… a little carried away last time?” Susan said.
“Oh, no. It was nothing to the way we got carried away afterward,” Annette laughed. She’d begun moving Susan toward our bedroom, which we’d decided to use as the dressing room because we could all hear through the open arch. “Let me help you get ready. Did they even tell you that they had a costume for you today? I swear they forget the most important things.”
“I was really worried.”
“Susan, it wouldn’t have bothered us if you’d made passionate love. You are so sexy! We’ve all been with you when you posed and you are just impossible to resist. I’d have a hard time keeping my hands off you myself.”
“You can. I mean if you need to help pose me so he can keep drawing. I’d be okay if I knew it was you.”
“Don’t you worry,” Annette said. “I’ll take care of you.” That was a key phrase that I’d used often with Susan. And I meant it. I felt strongly that one of my key responsibilities as an artist—and as a friend—was to protect and care for my models. I knew, though, that Annette meant it, too. Susan was her friend and she wasn’t going to abuse her. “What do you think of this?”
“It’s beautiful. It’s like a Princess Leia harem outfit.”
“More or less. It’s a little more revealing, but we aren’t selling space opera to teen boys. One of the things we discovered was that Arthur could actually see the fabric when he painted you. You know that up to that time, the only color he could see was the flesh of his model? He chose this himself because he thought you’d be especially beautiful in it.”
“He always takes care of me,” Susan said, barely loud enough that we could hear her in the next room.
“And he will today, too,” Annette reassured her. “And you’ve got me to depend on, too. You’re so pretty. Are you ready for the veil?”
“How does this work?”
“Well, they didn’t want to spoil the costume with a pirate blindfold like some of what you’ve worn. So, we built the blindfold into the veil. How does that feel?”
“It kind of tickles around my ears, but it’s fine. It’s a good blindfold. Don’t leave me, Annette,” she said as if suddenly panicked.
“Don’t worry; I’m right here. Hold my hand and I’ll lead you over to where you pose. Oh, this fabric is just so sensuous when you move.” Annette led Susan in front of the window. We’d doubled the number of drapes and had them hanging around almost like a tent. Susan was fantastic. The diaphanous costume revealed curves and details unlike anything we could have imagined. She was already beginning to shoot off sparks, as Morgan called it. To me it looked like random hotspots glowing against her skin. It was my turn to join in the scene we’d practiced. I’d already removed my shirt as had Morgan and Kendra.
“Is this the little artist’s Dolly I ordered?” I asked Annette.
“Yes sir. She’s our top model. We imported her from Arabia just for your masterpiece,” Annette said. I ran the back of my hand down Susan’s arm. She shivered with anticipation. A good thing about having posed her so frequently was that I knew a lot of triggers. She always liked the artist to start by simply appreciating what a fine model she was. That wasn’t hard to do.
“What a beautiful shape she has beneath these veils. She seems so warm and real. I almost expect her to start breathing.” I passed a hand over Susan’s ass and she gasped.
“Your wish is her command, sir,” Annette said.
“How wonderful. I need to move her into position for the first pose. May I touch you, little Dolly?”
“Yes, sir. Please touch me. Anywhere. Any way you need to. Or want,” Susan said. This was also part of our posing ritual. I never moved into her space to touch her personally without asking her permission. Once she gave it, she knew that I would be in almost constant contact for a while as I posed her and got her more and more aroused. It also gave her the option of setting limits on what she would allow. She had never been slow to offer everything. But her next words surprised me. “And your assistant, too,” she breathed, scarcely audible.
Annette smiled at me. As soon as she had placed the Dolly in my hands she had stepped back and stripped. Mostly. She wore the same straps crisscrossing her torso and framing her breasts that she had worn when working as my assistant for Zen’s performance video. But this time, she had omitted the bikini bottom and bra from beneath the straps. Annette had already begun to emerge from the blackness around her.
I worked for several minutes, giving Susan another veil, and positioning her hands exactly the way I wanted them. All the time I was stroking her body and whispering encouragements. Though I didn’t dwell on them, I made certain that my touches and adjustments included frequent caresses to her breasts, butt, and legs. I often asked my assistant to help position her and Annette’s hands were almost as often on Susan as my own were. Finally, I knelt in front of Susan and lightly grasped her left leg. I pulled so that she bent her knee as I lifted her foot. She struggled for balance for a moment and Annette stepped up close to support her. Her pose was balletic.
“I’m not sure I can hold this pose for long, sir,” Susan said.
“My Lady will help you,” I said. I lifted her veil enough that I could brush my lips against hers. She sighed. “Don’t worry about a thing. She will take care of you.” Annette took over from there and Susan shifted her focus from me. I moved to my easel and took in the composition. Kendra was already rapidly molding the clay in front of her.
What I saw, I was sure, was much different than what Kendra or even Morgan could see. I could see transparent black veils tenting over two intense figures. The veils Susan held and that wrapped her were of various colors, but none heavy enough or dark enough to obscure the shape and detail of her body. I knew she wouldn’t be able to hold this pose for long, so I worked as rapidly as I could with chalk pastels rather than oil. This gave me better control over blending the colors I could see clearly now. But the wonderful thing I could see was Annette. All of her. While Susan was still not completely illuminated and hotspots continued to flare and subside, Annette’s glow was constant and ever-brightening.
In a few minutes, Annette began moving Susan, first straightening her raised leg and pointing the toe so Susan could shift her weight. I don’t know if Susan had realized that the harem pants were like a skirt with legs. From her knees to her crotch there was no seam. I saw her straighten and whine as Annette ran a hand up the inside of her thigh. I didn’t think Annette had quite touched Susan’s pussy, but my experience told me that she’d probably been dripped on. This was confirmed when Annette stood and licked the back of her hand. Annette shifted Susan’s veils to a new position and released the catch on the harem bra, allowing the thin fabric to simply hang in front of Susan’s breasts. Annette made sure that Susan’s nipples were attended to and stood at attention. When we’d worked the first time, close to three years ago, Susan had constantly brushed her breasts with her hands to keep her nipples erect. She seldom had a problem with that when she was posing blindfolded. But I could hear Annette continuing to reassure Susan that she was taking care of her, including making sure that she presented proud nipples for the artist.
In the new pose, Annette was once again behind Susan, helping hold one arm up as she stroked it. Annette’s other hand was inside the harem pants on Susan’s left butt cheek.
The painting was going well. I had a new sheet of sanded pastel paper on the easel and saw the light emitted by the two women beginning to blend. Susan was much like the fabric of the veils. Her light continued to run in streaks through her body, highlighting what I knew now as her erogenous zones. But her body was somehow transparent and allowed Annette to shine through, solid. Annette’s color was consistent and opaque, illuminating a bit of what was around her. I could see her through Susan as if Susan were a spirit that Annette was controlling. Or perhaps a djinn she had summoned to do her bidding.
Watching Annette with Susan was much like it had been watching the slow motion silent orgy with Mavis weeks ago. I worked as quickly as I could to capture the amazing performance before me and shifted to new canvases each time Annette moved the two to a new pose. It was exhausting and both girls were pulsing in my vision. Morgan laid her hand on my shoulder and I looked up at her. I could see behind her that Kendra was in the same condition as the rest of us, naked and sweating over her series of tiny clay models.
“She needs to end it before Susan implodes,” Morgan whispered. “It’s almost more than she can take.” I looked at the scene again and realized exactly what the pulsing I saw meant. I moved quickly into the scene.
Susan’s veil had been lifted so only her eyes were covered and Annette’s lips were sealed to hers. The girls each stood on one leg—Annette’s right leg raised and pressed against Susan’s sex, moving slightly back and forth; Susan’s left leg wrapped around Annette’s waist. I wasn’t sure how they were balanced in such a precarious position. I moved the daybed into the scene and pulled a couple drapes onto it, quickly arranging the pillows so the girls could recline. I embraced both girls in my arms and Annette shared Susan’s lips and tongue with me. I lifted Susan in my arms and positioned her on the daybed, Annette swiftly moving to the other side to stretch out next to her. Susan’s lips did not leave mine until I relinquished them to Annette.
“Such a good little Dolly,” I whispered. “My Lady, she deserves a reward. I always treat my little Dolly to something special when she works so hard.”
The harem pants and flimsy bra had long since been discarded and I made sure to touch and stimulate every inch of Susan that I could reach, even sliding two fingers into her hot wet channel as she had a small orgasm. I’d seen these flares frequently in the past few minutes as Annette had stimulated her. I lifted my wet fingers to Annette’s lips and she sucked them eagerly.
“My Lady, this is my Dolly. Please take very good care of her,” I whispered. Susan moaned. I took Annette’s hand and moved it down so her fingers were in our model’s very ready sex. Annette knew what to do from there. Morgan claimed she had the most talented fingers on the planet—not that Morgan had any but mine and her own to compare with. Annette returned to kissing Susan as she manipulated the girl’s clit and pussy. Susan was gasping around Annette’s insistent lips, crying out her muffled rise to fulfillment. In a sudden inspiration, I bent and took one of Susan’s nipples in my lips and nipped at it. The scream broke the lock Annette had on her lips. Susan went through the phases of what I recognized as a knockout orgasm: stiffening, relaxing, stiffening, relaxing, utter rigidity, and limp unconsciousness. As she was screaming out her release, I circled the daybed and caressed Annette’s bottom, hanging just at the edge of the bed. I could clearly see my target and stooped to thrust my cock into her pussy from behind. I coupled this with an attack on Annette’s right nipple—the one that I had discovered long ago was key to her most intense orgasms.
The echo of Susan’s scream was still dying as Annette’s was raised. She pounded back on my cock, spasming around me until I, too, was caught in the climax. Annette drew in a long shuddering breath and did not release it until she went limp against Susan. I was panting as my cock slid out of Annette, messy with our combined spend. I looked at the two sleeping beauties in front of me and carefully removed the blindfold veil from Susan’s eyes. They stayed closed. I paused only long enough to move a couple stray locks of Annette’s hair from Susan’s face and then returned to a fresh canvas.
Morgan and Kendra were still clamped in a fierce embrace, their fingers resting between each other’s thighs. I couldn’t blame them for getting caught up in the emotion that had played out before us. I kissed them both on top of their heads. Morgan lifted her lips to me and drank deeply of my kiss. At the same time, Kendra dropped her head and my still-rigid cock slipped effortlessly between her lips. After a few moments of exquisite torture, I pulled away and pointed to our models. Kendra and Morgan reluctantly relinquished their hold on each other so Kendra could get her fingers in a different kind of moist clay.
I began to paint.
What I saw before me was the slowly fading image of the spirit lover, so thin that I could see the mage who summoned her through her wispy presence. Annette’s glow illuminated the drapes nearest the sated couple. They faded into black on black elegance from there. I marveled at the tracery of colored light that shot through Susan’s body—captured it with delicate brushstrokes. It flickered against translucent skin.
I watched as the two girls slipped from near comatose into gentle sleep. Susan settled into a soft glow, barely visible to me, as Annette continued to be solid. This was a new challenge. I knew I would not have time to paint everything, but I grabbed a small canvas board and focused on building the layers and textures with quickly applied acrylic. The coloring was Annette’s, but the shape and texture were Susan’s. I’d never seen nor experienced anything quite like this. I could see Susan’s shape, but could clearly see Annette right through her. For the first time, I wished I was working in bronze and glass like Kendra. I wondered if Morgan could see what I was seeing.
This was more than painting, certainly. I had to capture both the gentle chiaroscuro of Annette’s color and sculpt the shape and texture of Susan in her arms. I knew this was a rough sketch for all I was painting with acrylics. But I needed to bring this to life. I had to.
We worked as they slept for about half an hour and then the two began to stir, sleepily nuzzling with each other. I was sure there were some soft whispers between the two, but from my distance of eight feet, I couldn’t distinguish words until they both yawned and began to sit up.
“I think I should take a break from posing for a couple of weeks. Maybe a month, you know?” Susan said. She was still on the daybed wrapped in Annette’s arms. I thought she was talking to me, but she was looking Annette in the eye. “I need to… work… on my writing. Poetry. For my final project. You understand, don’t you, Annette?”
“I do. And so do the rest of us. With all the stress we’ve been under first semester, we’ve all needed to do some pretty extreme things to regain our balance. You’ve been so good to us that we’ll do anything we can to help you,” Annette said.
“I don’t want you to think I haven’t enjoyed what we’ve done,” Susan said.
“Did you enjoy it as much as I did?” Annette asked, playfully pecking at Susan’s lips.
“Oh, god, yes! And I want to do it again. And again,” whispered Susan. The two spent a minute kissing and lightly fondling each other. “I have so much inside me right now that I need to spend time writing it into poetry. You write yours in short stories and novels. Arthur paints his. Kendra sculpts hers. You all know what I mean.”
“And Morgan adds hers up in a spreadsheet,” my sister laughed. “Don’t worry. Even though I’m not an artist, I’d be a poor lover and friend not to understand what you mean.” She was sitting on Kendra’s lap. I still sat at my easel and dabbed at the paint.
“I’m your friend, first and foremost,” Annette said. “But believe me when I tell you that I will protect my little Dolly and take care of her when I need to. I won’t lead you into anything you don’t want, but I might stop you from doing something dangerous or harmful. Do you understand, little Dolly?”
“I do, mistress,” Susan said before whispering, “My Lady.”
“Let’s get you dressed. Would you like to shower first?” The two walked into the bedroom to gather Susan’s clothes and then went to take a shower. Together. Kendra reached up to give Morgan a kiss while the two stroked each other.
“I need to get going, too,” Kendra sighed. “Les will be home tomorrow. He’ll be okay with all of this, but, you know, I need to talk to him.” She fingered the jasper pendant. “He needs to know how deeply I love my friend,” she said, looking at me. I held out my arms and Morgan quickly moved so Kendra could perch on my lap. My erection had finally flagged a bit, but was soon revived when Kendra reached for it. I pulled her in for a kiss and stroked her breast and nipple. She pushed my hand down between her legs. I followed the lightning bolt and tickled at her clit before sliding down to penetrate her willing opening.
“I don’t think jack and jill is what they mean by ‘friends with benefits,’ but I could really use one more before I go,” she said. Morgan approached the two of us and kissed us on the head.
“Have fun,” she said. She left and I heard the bathroom door open and the shower still running. Then it closed.
“Let’s stretch out,” I suggested.
“Yes,” Kendra said. We moved over to the well-used daybed. “This bed smells like happy girls. Um… you tasted… that was Annette on you, wasn’t it?”
“Kind of a mixture of her and me,” I laughed. Now that Kendra and I were lying naked on a bed facing each other, we seemed to be a little shy. I shook my head and pulled back from her a little, looking all the way up and down her body.
“Um… Am I okay?” she asked.
“I can see you,” I said.
“Really? I mean really see me? Like normal?”
“I don’t know if it’s normal or not, but it isn’t black and black. I can see your brown eyes and the freckle on your nose,” I said, kissing each. “I can see the blush on your chest. I can see your deep tanned nipples. I can see the faint trace of hair on your belly. I can see your golden lightning bolt pointing right at your coral clit. I can see the pink of your lips and vagina.” I continued to kiss my way down her body until I saw that glistening opening. Then I was a little awestruck. I’d touched Kendra intimately, but I’d never looked between her legs. They spread apart, welcoming my fascinated examination. I accepted the invitation. “I can see the clear liquid trace from the deepening red of your vagina to the rose brown of your bottom hole. And… I just have to taste you.” I licked from her rosebud to her clitoris and back. Kendra whined.
“Let me suck you, Arthur. I need to have you in me.” We rolled our positions so I was on the bottom and Kendra lowered her weeping pussy to my mouth while she engulfed my cock with hers. I relished the flavor of her juices and the colors I saw in her sex. Had I never been this observant before? Why had I always thought a woman’s sex was pretty much all just shades of pink? In Kendra, I saw flashes of orange and even a tinge of blue around the edge. I saw the purple depth of her pussy and the yellow hotspot at the tip of her clit, just on the underside. Were all women this varied in their sexual coloration? How could I not have noticed this on Morgan or Annette?
It reminded me of some of the paintings I had done my senior year of high school when I didn’t know what was hidden by the panties my sister wore, but imagined an explosion of color coming from between her legs.
And with the colors came complex flavors that I didn’t have experience to name. Some were spicy. Some were sour. Some were sweet. There was a bitterness as I licked near her anus and a tang as I dipped deeply into her vagina. And if I let my eyes drift upward… up toward the black on black ceiling and drapery above us… I could see shooting sparks in my eyes that I immediately related to the intense sensations coming from my cock in Kendra’s mouth.
We neither tried to withhold our orgasms, prolong them, nor rush them. We simply savored the intense experiences as we both mounted inexorably to our climax. It wasn’t loud. Or perhaps it was but was muffled by our mouths fully engaged with the other’s sex. My tongue was as deep as I could get it in her opening and my cock gradually deflated, regardless of the gentle sucking she continued to lavish on it. At last, her honey ceased to flow across my tongue and my cock fell from her lips.
We didn’t say anything else. We rearranged ourselves on the daybed and kissed. We held each other tightly and faded off to sleep.
“Dinner in fifteen minutes,” Mom called up the stairs. Oh, my god! When did she get home? The voice and my startled reaction awoke Kendra. The room was dark and I heard Morgan’s voice from the bedroom call, “Thanks, Mom!”
“I was going to go home and see if there was a can of soup in the cupboard to open for dinner,” Kendra giggled. “I wonder if Susan is still here, too?”
“She went home after her shower,” Annette said from the passage into the bedroom. “Morgan and I passed out on the bed. You both would have been welcome there. The daybed isn’t that comfortable.”
“I was thinking about adding a foam mattress on top,” I said. “For the comfort of the models.”
“Yeah. All of us models would appreciate that,” Annette laughed. I looked at her. The room was dark, but I could see her. I sat up and looked harder. It was the same familiar Annette that I’d once known, only there was no light source that would make her as clear as she was.
“My Lady, please turn around. All the way around,” I said. She giggled and turned slowly in a circle.
“What?” she asked.
“Fay! Come here!” I called.
“Yes, master?” she laughed. “That was a commanding voice. Why is it so dark in here?”
“I can see you!” I shouted. I looked at Kendra, clear as the light of day. “I can see all three of you! Not black! No black!”
My lovers rushed to me and all three held me in their arms. We were all peppering kisses over the others’ faces. I was sniffling. Nothing else in the room seemed to be illuminated.
Except my easel. For some reason, I could see my easel and the painting on it clearly. Even in the dark.
“Dinner!” Mom called from downstairs. We scrambled to get our clothes on and raced to the table.
Our dinner conversation was lively. Of course, Morgan and Kendra both wanted to explain what I’d experienced, but Annette leaned over and whispered in my ear.
“When you get your thoughts together and want to speak, just give me a squeeze and I’ll shut them up.” I smiled at her and blocked out what Kendra and Morgan were saying while I at least got my first sentence organized and then squeezed Annette’s hand. She held her hand up to the others to be quiet. “Arthur would like to say it himself,” she admonished.
“I can see… some things,” I started. “I can see Mom and Dad’s faces and hands. When they were naked, I could see Morgan, Annette, and Kendra clearly, even though the room was dark. With clothes on, I can still see them, but the colors are more muted. Um… Kendra’s T-shirt is thin enough that it kind of glows and I can see her through it.” Kendra looked down at her hastily donned T-shirt and saw her prominent nipples on display.
“Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“Relax, dear. It’s nothing we haven’t seen before,” Mom said. “I believe Jean would miss it if you covered them up more often.”
“You mean I do this all the time?” she squeaked.
“Only when you are working or have recently been working,” Dad said. “You are normally more than respectable in the way you are dressed and we don’t stare at you when you are here. You are safe.” Kendra was still blushing but didn’t try to make a big deal about covering her breasts with more layers of cloth. I guess she had a little exhibitionism in her just like Susan did.
“Um… Can I… Want to say…”
“I’m sorry, dear. We’ll be quiet. Take your time,” Mom said. I got my train of thought back on the tracks.
“I don’t think I see auras. I see everyone normal. Maybe a little more intense compared to the black everywhere else. It’s like that computer monitor you told me about that makes things more intense by using contrast, Annette. Um… But I can see them in the dark. Just as if they were in bright sunlight. Except… no shadows. Wh… why can I see in the dark?” I asked Mom.
“I don’t know, Arthur,” Mom said. “When I went through my darkness, it was like someone turned the lights out. I could see physical people. I could see physical objects. But people were… flat. Like they weren’t quite real. I just don’t understand.”
“Was that when I was born?” Morgan asked.
“Yes, sweetheart. It lasted about two weeks and I nearly slipped into a postpartum depression. I was worried when Arthur was born, but it didn’t recur. Just once, but that was all I ever wanted to see of that world. I couldn’t tell people from furniture. But I don’t know about Arthur’s darkness. It has already lasted far longer than mine. Why don’t we give Gramma a call and see if she can explain it? Her brother went through something similar.”
“What happened to Great Uncle John?” I asked. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. I remember Gramma saying it had taken him two years before he could see in a way he called normal. I wondered if our experiences were the same. Or if he ever fully regained his sanity.
“He passed away when you were tiny,” Mom said. “I remember him as a kind man who was very stylish and gentle. He often told me I would experience wonderful things with my sight and to never lose hope. I think he called me every day during my darkness. Momma was here with me, of course.” I guess it was a relief that he lived that long, then.
After dinner, that’s what we did. We went upstairs through Mom and Dad’s sitting room and into his study. He made the call and turned the phone to speaker for a conference call.
“Momma, Arthur has had a bit of a breakthrough, but we don’t understand the ramifications,” Mom said when Gramma answered the phone. “We’re all in Jean’s study on the conference call. Art, do you want to ask the questions?” I shook my head.
“Kendra. She’s a certified interpreter.” Everyone laughed at the old joke.
“It’s good to hear a little levity in your voice, Arthur,” Gramma said. “Kendra, why don’t you get us started?”
With that, my motormouth friend was off and running. One thing I’d noted since Kendra and I became friends was that even though she talked a lot and talked pretty fast, she was very well organized in what she said. And she had listened. I could see that even Mom and Dad were impressed with the way she told Gramma about the newest developments.
“So, the first thing Arthur wants to know is if he’s seeing auras. Second, if he is, why do they look like the physical person and not the shape that Morgan and Mom see? Third, why does covering the subject block out what he sees since both Mom and Morgan say they can see the aura regardless of how many layers of clothing a person has on. Do you have any ideas, Gramma?” Gramma had long-since told Kendra what to call her when we were at holiday gatherings together. I could almost hear her smile through the telephone.
“Hmm. Well, it is certainly not like the women of the family see auras. Sarah and I had very similar experiences of the darkness. Mine lasted a little longer, but it never really affected our eyesight. It was simply like someone had clicked off the light that came from people and they were the same as the houses they lived in. I remember John once telling me that people were like lightbulbs. That made a kind of sense to me. The light the people emitted was gone. Of course, at the time, I thought he was just seeing what I saw. Now, based on other things he said, I believe the experience is that the aura illuminates the physical person for you. You’ve noted that if the fabrics aren’t too thick, you can also see them and even for a little distance around your subjects. For your mother and Morgan and I, we only see the aura. It doesn’t illuminate anything else. Though I have to wonder if Morgan experiences some of the same thing you do since she sees both the aura and the physical person. We’ll know better when her darkness comes on her. If she has one.”
“Why wouldn’t I have one, Gramma?” Morgan asked.
“Well, dear, for my mother, your mother, and me, the onset of the darkness was marked by the birth of our children. Ah… Do you and Arthur plan to have children?” Gramma asked over the phone. The room fell silent Morgan shrank back into her seat. Why wouldn’t we have children?
“But… why can I see my easel? It isn’t even living. Morgan can’t see an aura around it.” I said.
“Well, my dear grandson, perhaps it is your aura that illuminates it.”
The next day, Sunday, Kendra didn’t come to our house. School would start in a few days and Les had just returned from LA. I hoped they were okay. I hated to think that something we did might mess up a good relationship for her. And I liked Les. I didn’t like the fact that I’d slept with his girlfriend. Sort of. We were naked, we had orgasms, and we slept. In my book, that counts.
Morgan, Annette, and I went out for a walk. I wore my sunglasses, but there was so much glare off the couple inches of snow we had that Morgan and Annette wore theirs, too. I didn’t know how to tell them about seeing things like snow and only seeing black. Just a few years ago, I was fascinated by snow and how it drifted. It looked so much like blankets with light and shade and even reflected colors. Now I could see the shape, but it was still all black. Who ever heard of black snow?
A month ago, I couldn’t bear to look at my lovers. Couldn’t bear to see them black and colorless. Now they are the living islands in my darkness.
We got back to our room. I was toying with the painting I’d started yesterday, but mostly I was trying to figure out if I could remember it well enough to reproduce it without the models being there. I started when my cellphone buzzed. Hardly anyone ever calls me. I’m never sure I can do more than listen.
“’Lo?” I said.
“Artie, it’s Mavis.” I couldn’t help the smile that crept across my face. Morgan and Annette had both looked up at me when I answered the phone and as soon as they saw me smile, they grinned.
“Hi. Are you back in town? Want to… um… get together?”
“Yes and yes. And with your girlfriends. But maybe without any posing and work if that’s okay.”
“Yeah. We’re just being lazy today. Did a lot of work this week. Want to come over?”
“Why don’t the three of you come to my house? That way we can be in a space that isn’t work-related. For you. Come for dinner. I’m cooking.”
“Want to go to Mavis’s house for dinner?” I asked Annette and Morgan.
“Yes!” they squealed.
“Guess that’s three of us,” I laughed as I returned to Mavis. I repeated her address as Annette wrote it down and we agreed to be there in about an hour. There suddenly seemed to be a lot to do in that time as none of us had showered yet, even though it was mid-afternoon. The girls wanted to make sure their hair was looking nice and their makeup was right. They re-dressed me, as well.
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