The fire started to come back to life.
As it did so, Judy couldn’t help ruining his work in progress, placing her hands over her breasts and splaying her fingers, massaging, showing herself off for him.
At her insistence, he sat astride her and rested his cock between her breasts. She used her breasts to envelop him and he moved his cock back and forth, red paint squelching, marking them both. She liked being able to see their prints all over each other’s bodies. It would be a fun game later that evening, working out which part of which body had caused which mark.
“Do you think you could demonstrate that again?” she’d say later. “How exactly do you get a cock print there?”
For now they washed each other with colour and desire, using a lot more paint than Judy had anticipated, wanton and careless and thoughtless, enhancing each other’s compositions, two artists working in tandem, without words, without the need for words, without the need for anything but each other.
Chapter Ten: Thursday—Mixed Media with Mixed Messages
Remy de Gourmont: “Art is the accomplice of love”
“What's that on your neck?” Yvonne asked.
You should know that it's body paint, Judy thought, because you lent it to me, but, you know, shut the fuck up about it, thanks.
Judy tried to cover the mark with her collar. Everybody looked. People had already been looking, in fact, because she had finally got up the courage to wear the dress that Lisa had insisted she pack. It was a figure-hugging dress with a silver zip at the front that drew the eye of every male in the room. The hem was short enough and her legs shapely enough to turn heads, too.
Admittedly, it was also handy that the dress had a bit of a collar to hide Mark's indiscretion from the night before.
“It's paint,” Judy said, making sure the zip was fully done up.
“But how do you get paint there?” Yvonne said. “You weren't even painting yesterday, were you? Unless you were doing some extra-curricular creativity.”
“Something like that,” Judy said, her eyes screaming: Shut up!
Another woman, Joan, licked her thumb and rubbed at Judy's neck, saying:
“I don't think that's going to come off.”
Yvonne said, knowingly. “Looks a love-bite to me.”
It turned out that she was pissed off that Judy had used the entirety of three tubs of body paint. Even more, she was annoyed that Kevin had not demonstrated any interest in using them with her, describing such an exercise as pointless and unsanitary. Even more than that, she was annoyed that Judy had successfully used them with the hottest guy in the house. She had given the pots to Judy in anger and frustration, but she hadn't really expected her to have a chance to use them.
There were sniggers when Mark entered the room. He paused for a moment, knew what the matter was right away, and moved on.
“You look tired,” Kevin said, chuckling. “Something keep you up all night? Or someone?”
Yvonne elbowed him. She'd obviously told him. Eventually everyone who didn't already suspect would know for sure that Judy and Mark were sleeping together.
Mark didn't explain himself. Instead, he launched into a talk:
“Collage,” he said. “A word that we all know. From the French 'coller' meaning to glue. Flying you all over here was an expensive way of making that point, but hopefully ...”
“...it will now stick...” said Bernard dryly.
“And so shall we,” said Mark, indicating boxes of magazines and newspapers and putting them on the long table that he had set out in the middle of the room, alongside rejected items from yesterday's dump mission, items and fabrics from Monday's inspiration walk and assorted, multicoloured odds and ends that perhaps other artists had collated here over the weeks, months and years.
“We're making a single composition,” he reminded them, “from disparate sources. And we're going to see what happens. First, however, we're going to do that meditation thing I keep forcing on you.”
They had been well-tutored and automatically sat in the manner that was most comfortable for them, whether cross-legged or with their feet outstretched, sitting in a chair or even lying on their backs. When instructed, Judy closed her eyes along with the rest of them, but she opened them again after thirty seconds.
“Sorry,” she mouthed, feeling terrible that she had been so careless with her affection for him and that her good intentions might mean that his job would be in jeopardy.
Mark accepted her apology with a shrug and repeated: “Eyes closed.”
Judy allowed her eyes to close and he guided her, guided them all into a mental space that they had been sweeping clean since they arrived. Their bodies relaxed and their minds seemed to unfold. Uncharitable walls keeping bad things in and good things out tumbled down, sinking like an ancient city sinking to the bottom of an ocean, turning to dust.
At the end of the meditation, nobody spoke for a long time. They were all a little dazed, as if waking from a dream that they didn't want to end and beginning to understand that it needn't end if they could just hold onto that feeling.
Afterwards, they approached the table of goodies. Their eyes were soft now as they took in the objects, not so much seeking those that appealed to them, but being drawn to this shape or that colour.
It seemed natural to be doing this, except to Bernard, who was picking up items, snorting and then tossing them back onto the table.
“What's up with you now?” asked Maggie.
“I feel like I'm at kindergarten,” Bernard said. “Like those kids we saw on Monday. This is no different to what they were doing, but I'm a grown man.”
He kept at it though, choosing items seemingly at random, while Judy could see the excitement on the faces of the others as they found the perfect items for their composition or the perfect composition for their items, depending upon their mood.
Judy, who couldn't concentrate enough to work, was aware of Mark hanging papers up on the other side of the room.
When he was done, he called to them.
“Doubters,” he said. “If you need it, check this out.” He pointed to hanging prints of collages. There was a print of a collage by Jean Arp entitled “Rectangles Arranged According to the Laws of Chance, 1916” and it was just that.
“What's that?” asked Kevin, pointing.
“Max Ernst,” said Mark. “'Two Children are Menaced by a Nightingale.' A personal favourite.”
It was framed, with a toy gate stuck to the picture and emerging from its boundary. On the right hand side was something like a dog kennel, constructed from wood, also glued to the surface of the painting.
“I'm sure you love kids, really,” said Yvonne. “I don't think you're the menacing children type.”
“He's not as nice as he seems,” said Maggie.
“No, he can be a very naughty boy,” Yvonne said. “But Judy's the expert on that.”
Judy shot her a look, but Mark stayed on track.
“You're in good company with your collages,” Mark said. “If you care about that kind of thing. Malevich, Arp, Duchamp, Rodchenko, Richard Hamilton, Kurt Schwitters...So get to work. We need more pieces for the exhibition or we’re fucked.”
“No pressure then,” said Kevin.
As she walked back to the table, Maggie grabbed Judy by the arm.
“What's so special about you?” Maggie hissed.
Judy freed herself from her painful grip.
“Nothing,” Judy said.
“At last, we agree on something,” said Maggie. “You're nothing he hasn't seen before.”
“...I don't know what you're talking...”
“You're on this course, cos he thought he could get you into bed. And he was right.”
“I don’t think we agree on that,” Judy said, as calm as she could muster.
“Do you know why I'm on this course?”
Judy shook her head, feigning boredom.
“The same reason,” she said.
She w
alked away then, leaving Judy stunned in the middle of the room. Eventually, she looked for Mark, but he had conveniently left the room at that moment. Slipped out more like.
“What do you mean, same reason?” Judy asked, catching up with Maggie on the other side of the room.
“Ask him what I submitted in my application,” Maggie said. “I bet he hasn't told you that.”
A single composition, from disparate sources, Judy thought as she returned to her collage in progress. Like us. Like Mark and I. Is there even a Mark and I?
* * * *
She managed to catch him alone in the hallway after class. She meant to confront him about what Maggie had insinuated, but on seeing his beautiful, dark eyes, she stopped in mid-step and ended up falling into easy conversation with him instead.
They discussed how it was a bad idea for them to meet that day out of class.
“Awful idea,” Judy said.
“Can't be done,” said Mark.
“People are already talking,” Judy said. “I was careless. I'm sorry. Will you be okay?”
“Whatever happens,” he said, “it will be fine.”
“I feel like I'm ruining everything. Your friendship with Andre, your work.”
“You're not ruining anything,” he said. “Quite the opposite.”
“It's a shame we can't spend more time together.”
“Even talking like this is dangerous. We certainly shouldn't meet tonight.”
“No,” said Judy.
“Tonight at about eleven would be a really bad idea.”
“Yep,” said Judy. “Terrible.”
“And if we met on the minibus and went for a drive, off the grounds, away from prying eyes, that wouldn't be far away enough.”
“No, it wouldn't.”
“Shame,” he said and turned, heading back to his room.
As he walked away, she suddenly desired to ask him about Maggie again, but she'd missed her moment. Later would be soon enough. It would have to be.
Alone in her room, she unzipped her dress and looked at her flesh in the mirror. She hadn't showered. The paint from the night before remained all over her body. Though smudged, she could still see clearly the lines that Mark had made with his fingers. She loved having his prints all over her. She'd had to wash her face and legs with regret.
Later, when she showered, she would watch the colours spill down the plughole with great sadness. For now, however, she slid her hand into her panties and attempted to stoke the fire of the night before.
Some people take tea breaks, she thought.
* * * *
That night, she crossed the courtyard, feeling exposed, though there were no lights on in the upstairs windows of the house and she had no reason to suspect that she was being watched. She hurried to the minibus, moving silently because she kept her high heels in her hands. She'd slip them on later when she was inside. These shoes were not for walking. The fact that they were ridiculously uncomfortable had not factored heavily on her decision to buy them and it didn't factor largely in her decision to carry them now. They made her legs look good. They made her feel good. They'd make Mark feel good.
She pushed the door and, as Mark had said it would, it came open. She sat down near the front, but away from the windscreen, and waited, looking at the door from which Mark would exit. A glance at her watch showed her that it was ten minutes to eleven. She was always early. Mark was normally late. She'd probably end up waiting an hour for him and that would piss her off, but on seeing him, she'd forget everything. She knew that she would.
To her surprise, however, the exit opened and someone began walking...no, running...across the courtyard and towards the bus. It was someone smaller than Mark.
Judy scrambled to the back of the bus and hunkered down beneath one of the seats at the back when the person pushed open the door and clomped on, breathing heavily.
She knew who it was from the sound of the boots.
Maggie.
The girl was attended by the smell of cigarettes and she lit one now. She sat on the seat opposite the one Judy had been perched on moments before, crossed her legs and blew smoke up at the ceiling.
I'm going to cough, Judy thought. I'm going to cough, I know I am!
She could feel a tickle in her throat.
What is she doing here? Judy thought.
She wondered if this was going to be some kind of weird game. Had Mark invited both of them, to see what they would do to each other? Was he planning to have it out with them so they could get along? Or did he think he was some kind of super stud who could have them both, because they found him so irresistible.
“There you are,” Maggie said and a moment later the doors thumped open again.
“Bon soir, Madame.”
It was Andre.
He gave Maggie a long, long kiss on the mouth, which the girl returned with a gentleness that surprised Judy. Maggie wrapped her arms around Andre’s neck with a movement that was subtle and languid, like a sea creature sailing through the depths.
“Shall we go?” Andre said.
“Fuck yeah,” said Maggie.
Fuck No! Judy thought, but Andre started the engine and they moved off, with Maggie swinging from the handrails at the front like a naughty little girl.
As the minibus chugged along, Judy noticed something under the opposite bench.
“Shhh,” said Mark.
Judy would have burst out laughing if she hadn't been so embarrassed and terrified of being caught. Mark too had his hand over his mouth and his eyes were screaming. He wanted to laugh so badly. His body shaking so much that it bucked the bench.
“Stop it,” whispered Judy with tears in her eyes. “Stop it!”
Their romantic evening had been hijacked, quite literally.
“They can't hear us,” Judy said a few minutes later. “The engine's too loud. What are we going to do?”
“What can we do?” Mark said, eyeing the amorous couple warily. “We'll have to wait them out.”
“I just hope they leave,” Judy said.
Andre pulled up about a quarter of an hour later and Judy heard him stand and approach Maggie.
“This is the most beautiful view,” he said. “From here we can see the whole of Sarlat.”
Judy's heart sank, hearing Andre’s words for her repeated to another woman. It was one thing to know that it was only a line, another thing to have it thrown in your face.
“I'm not interested in Sarlat,” Maggie said.
“Me, neither,” said Andre and then there was silence.
Judy peeked out and saw that they were face-sucking again, Andre's hands were all over Maggie's behind and her hands were all over him. She had one leg raised and wrapped round him. He was the pole, she the dancer.
Judy shrugged at Mark.
Mark pouted.
The two lovers kissed passionately and there was nothing Judy could do but wait them out. She put her hands over her ears so she couldn't hear their tongues smacking.
She had to admit that she liked Andre a little less tonight, not least of all because he was snogging the woman who had made herself her arch-nemesis for the entire trip, undermining everything she said to the point that she hated speaking to the group at all.
She had no flame for Andre, beautiful though he was. Being with him, or rather, almost being with him, hadn't meant anything but a moment of fun and danger and release. And yet, it reminded her of more unpleasant times. Mark saw the shadow fall over her face and she looked away, confused.
“You look upset,” Mark whispered, concerned. “Sad.”
“This was our time,” Judy said. “And they're ruining it.”
The two were fumbling around with each other's clothes, but neither seemed able to undress the other. Maggie was wearing a tight vest top and in the end she grunted and lifted it over her head revealing large, full breasts, no bra, and she discarded the vest on the driver’s chair. Andre did the same with his T-shirt and Maggie wolf-whistled at the sight
of his rippling abdominal muscles and taut biceps. She licked her finger and traced a line on his stomach while they kissed again, pressing their bodies against each other.
There came the hiss of skin against skin as fingers traced pecs and abs and breasts. Judy was surprised to find that they were extraordinarily gentle, as if each perceived fragility in the other.
They were a hot couple. It had to be said. Although Judy was watching them open-mouthed, she was annoyed when she noticed that Mark was practically drooling over them and that his eyes hadn't left them for a moment.
For the first time that trip, Judy allowed herself to stare openly at Maggie and she finally saw the extent of her tattoos if not the designs themselves. From that distance, she was a blur of black and white lines and yet the shadow and weight of the shapes drawn on her made a kind of sense, had a beautiful, but dark symmetry that was familiar yet disturbing The network of tattoos started at her neck and covered the entirety of her back and arms. They were obscured by her tight skirt, but then continued down her long legs.
That must have hurt, Judy thought. She didn’t like it. She didn’t like it at all.
Maggie sucked on Andre's nipples, until she nipped him not once but twice and he cried out. She laughed at him and smiled, teasing, at which point he demanded that she turn around.
She did as she was told and again Judy was surprised,
“I told you,” Maggie said, simultaneously placing her hands on the ledge at the front of the bus, bending low and spreading her legs. “I'm not interested in the view.”
“I’m the one who has the view,” Andre said and began adjusting her skirt.
She looked at him over her shoulder and he kissed her again, deep and long, their lips smacking loudly, while he hurriedly attempted to undo the fly of his jeans and raise her skirt at the same time.
Even now, Judy was unable to see his cock. It was dark and the angle didn’t allow for it. She had a sense of it when it was out of his trousers though. The mood changed. Maggie took a deep breath.
Judy glanced at Mark, not wanting to seem too interested in this, but he was watching without reservation. So would she.
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