Picture Me Naked (Stoddard Art School Series)

by Lisa A. Olech

  “That bad, eh?” Zee finished her wine

  “No. That good. It’s striking. Yes, striking is the word I was searching for.”

  “I’m drunk.”

  “No, sweetheart, you’re in love.”

  “Ha! You must be drunk, too?”

  “No. I’m old and wise. I see all.”

  “Now I know I’m drunk.” Zee put down her glass.

  “Can’t you see it?” Nana swept her hand toward the canvas.

  “Of course I can see it, I painted it.”

  “No, my darling girl… Can’t you see what you’ve really painted here?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It was getting embarrassing. She looked back at the painting and saw the foolishness. It wasn’t her. Nana didn’t know what she was saying. She didn’t love Jagger. It was the dream. It was the wine. She’d let her imagination get the best of her again.

  Where was the rag? She used her ruined sweatshirt to wipe her hands. Now it matched the rest of the paint-smeared sweatshirts in her collection.

  “I wish this Jagger was here right now. I mean, when you make love to a man, it’s best if he’s actually in the room.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Am I? Look again.”

  Zee couldn’t deny the passion that spread across the panel in the vivid sweeps of wet color. It was sexual and wild. It was everything she was feeling. It was all the things she was not.

  “So what’s your point?” Zee snapped.

  “I have no point. I just wanted to make sure you saw it, too.”

  Zee backed through the kitchen door and snatched the roll of paper towels from the counter. Standing back in front of the painting, she balled a large section of towel and stood poised to wipe it all away.

  “If you destroy that, I’ll never speak to you again.”

  “Nana.”

  “Don’t, Zee. I didn’t raise you to be a coward.”

  “Are we still talking about the painting?”

  “You know the answer to that.”

  Zee checked the back of her hand for paint before she ran it wearily across her eyes. She took a deep breath and chewed at her lower lip. The taste of paint filled her mouth.

  ****

  The sound of the ringing phone shot knives through Zee’s brain. She groaned as she rolled off the couch to scour the living room for the cordless receiver. She found it and nearly cried as it shrilled again in her hand.

  “Hello?” She croaked as she blocked the offensive light of day by covering her eyes with her hand.

  “Hey.”

  It took all she had not to press the disconnect button. “Ed.” She groaned.

  “Nice greeting,”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want to see you.”

  “I don’t think so.” She rubbed at her forehead. Too much wine. Brain broken.

  “We’re never going to fix us if you won’t see me.”

  Her eyebrows felt fused together. “There is no us to fix.” Had a herd of camels died in her mouth?

  “Zee…”

  She held her head in her hand. It was futile to argue with someone who refused to listen. Were her ears bleeding? It felt like her ears were bleeding. “Ed, I have an excruciating headache. I can’t deal with you now.”

  “Let me guess. PMS? It’s simple, Zee. Just say, ‘Okay, Ed, I’ll go out with you again’ and I’ll hang up.”

  Did he just say PMS? “Listen to me very carefully. I never want to see you again. Stop calling me. Stop dropping by. Stop coming to the school. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to talk to you. Leave me ALONE!” She groaned and held the front of her skull in place. Pain. Screaming brought pain. Zee squeezed the disconnect button and threw the phone. Before it could ring again, she rushed into the kitchen and shut off the ringer. She turned off the answering machine as well.

  Zee found some aspirin, drank a huge glass of water, and crawled into bed. Isabella joined her as she pulled the covers over her head.

  A loud pounding on the door woke her up. She wrapped a pink terrycloth robe around her and stumbled to the door.

  “Oh, please God, don’t let it be Ed.” Zee looked out the peephole and saw Leah. Sending a “Thank you, God” skyward, she opened the door.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Hey, Leah.”

  “Don’t ‘Hey, Leah’ me. Are you sick or something?”

  “No.” Zee tried to rake fingers through her hair. “Hung over, maybe.”

  “I’ve been trying to call you for hours. You were supposed to meet me for lunch. Remember?”

  “Oh damn! Leah, I’m so sorry. I totally forgot.”

  “I waited at the restaurant for an hour, and I’ve been trying to call you. Is your cell phone dead again? When I called here and it didn’t click over to your answering machine, I pictured you unconscious on the floor, or worse. I tried buzzing. Still nothing. Thank goodness poodle lady let me in.”

  “I really am sorry. I drank way too much wine last night and stayed up working until 4:30 this morning. Ed called insanely early and we got into it again. My head was splitting. I hung up on him, then shut off the phone and the machine. I’m sorry.”

  “He’s a little slow on the uptake, isn’t he?”

  “You have no idea. This morning he thought my refusal to date him must be because I’m premenstrual.”

  Leah gasped. “Oh, no, he didn’t.”

  “Oh, yes, he did.” Zee hand got stuck in the riot of her hair. She gave up. Leah had certainly seen her look worse.

  “What the hell did you do to your hands?”

  “A little finger painting. Over there.” Zee pointed to the corner as she headed off to the kitchen. “Tea. I need tea. Can I get you a cup?”

  Leah moved to look at the painting. “That would be great.”

  Zee was back in a few minutes. “Kettle’s on.”

  “Zee, this is amazing.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No, I’m serious. How?”

  “I ruined my knife, remember?” Zee shrugged. “The paint was too transparent for a brush, so I used my hands.” She held them out. Turpentine removed most of the paint, but around and beneath her fingernails were still a disaster.

  “I suppose I could soak them in turp, but… It will wear off eventually.”

  “Wow. This painting is hot.”

  Zee couldn’t disagree with the truth.

  “It isn’t even your style. Not the hot part, the paint part.”

  “Don’t lie. The hot part, too.”

  “Well, obviously you’re getting ready to erupt.”

  “I don’t know how to erupt. It was the wine.”

  “If you say so. Wait until Madeline sees this.”

  “She’s not going to see this. No one is going to see this.” Zee was still looking at her hands.

  “You’re not bringing it to class?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  Zee was saved the trouble of having to answer by the whistle of the teakettle. Leah followed her into the kitchen and repeated herself, “Why not?”

  “You said it yourself. It’s not my style.”

  “It’s still amazing.”

  “I almost scrapped it.” Zee splashed steaming water over the tea bags.

  “What? I’d never speak to you again.”

  “Funny, that’s what Nana said.”

  “You need to bring it in.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Leah pointed to the painting. “So when are you asking Jagger out?”

  “I’m not.” Zee set her tea aside.

  “I don’t know what you’re so afraid of,” Leah snickered, “his jeans all have button flies.” Leah ran a finger over her lip. “No zipper bites.”

  “Very funny.”

  “Come on. Did you see the way he was looking at you yesterday? Honey, if I was single…”

  “Yes, I know, catnip boxers.”

  “What?”


  “Nothing.” Seeing the painting in the light of day made Zee realized she hadn’t lied to Jagger. She didn’t have a crush. What she was feeling for him had gone way beyond crush.

  “So don’t date him, just sleep with him.” Zee sighed and shot Leah a look. Leah just batted her eyes. “For me?”

  After Leah left, Zee moved the painting out of harm’s way and into her bedroom to dry. Seeing its image before falling asleep that night had produced another Jagger dream. This one was XXX-rated with each of them smearing paint all over each other. Their slick bodies intertwined…slippery…red…purple… It left Zee breathless, bathed in sweat and dripping with need.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was late Friday afternoon when Jagger left the school’s computer lab. If one could call four PC’s in a closet a computer lab. With his afternoon free, he’d taken the opportunity to write his sister a quick email after finishing up with class. He needed to head back to the estate and tackle the load of firewood that had been delivered, but he found himself heading toward the corridor where the private studios were located. Where Zee was.

  He’d already spent all morning with her in class, asked her to lunch, and been shot down. But now he wanted to what? Talk to her? See if he could get her to laugh again? Flash that dimple? Hear her say no again?

  Jagger leaned quietly against the doorframe of the open studio. Even though the day was rainy, the air was warm and humid. Zee had opened a window. A soft, damp breeze blew through the room.

  She had her back to him as she worked on the same painting from this morning’s class. It was a side view of him, one knee raised with his arm resting on his knee. Lying slightly reclined, the curve of his body emphasized the muscles of his abdomen.

  Generally there was an odd disconnect when Jagger looked at one of the other artist’s sketches of him. It was all so technical. But there was something about Zee’s work. Something in the way she saw him that captivated him.

  Zee was working on his hand. She spoke to his likeness. “You have worker’s hands, Jagger Jones. I wonder how they got so strong and rugged. While we’re at it, you do have the greatest arms. Not to mention the abs. How many crunches did that take? No tan line either.”

  She picked up more paint onto her brush. “So what, do you work out every day or are you one of those disgusting people who are just naturally fit and never set foot inside a gym? Were you born with that six-pack? No, I bet you were one of those babies with the blond curls and chubby cheeks they put in baby food ads.”

  Zee turned to reach for a tube of paint and caught him leaning against the jamb of the door. “I did have curls. Hated them.”

  Her brush slipped from her fingers and bounced off the floor. “H-how long have you been standing there?”

  “Long enough to know you talk to yourself.”

  Zee’s face pinked. “I thought you left.” She bent to retrieve her brush.

  “I needed a computer to send an email. Plus, I wanted to see you. You were so quick to reject my lunch offer. Thought you might be giving me the royal brush off.”

  “You thought I was lying?” He’d startled her, caught her off guard. He watched as she gathered herself. “Well, as you can see, I was telling you the truth. I’ve got three paintings due next week. I told you I was busy. You can trust me, I’m a lousy liar.”

  Jagger nodded. “Good to know.”

  Zee frowned at him. “Why do you even care? I mean, there are a dozen women in this place: Jessica, Emily, even Leah who’ve been lusting after you since you got here. And what about your overnight guest? I’m sure if you asked any one of them they’d be happy to-to keep you company. Why not ask one of them to lunch?”

  Was it wishful thinking on his part, or did she sound jealous? “I’d rather ask you.”

  “Why?”

  “Could be I find you intriguing.” He gave her a smile.

  Zee shook her head and looked at the floor. “Could be I’m one of the few women not susceptible to your particular form of charisma.” She was right, she was a lousy liar.

  “Could be.” He smiled wider. “Could be the more time I spend with you, the more I realize what an amazing artist you are.”

  Zee shook her head again. “You’re not interested in my art.”

  “That’s not true. I’m very interested. That’s my mug on your canvas there.”

  “Are you that egotistical?”

  “No. I like how you see me.”

  Her eyes met his and held a long moment before looking away. “You’re my subject.” Zee waved her brush at him. “You’re…a bowl of fruit. A vase of flowers. A pretty landscape.”

  “So you think I’m pretty?” Jagger smirked. “Also good to know.”

  “I told you, your dazzling charm has no effect on me.”

  “So now I’m dazzling and charming. This just keeps getting better.”

  “Fine, you’re pretty and dazzling and charming. Is that all you needed? I still can’t go to lunch today. I’m busy. I think you should leave.”

  He didn’t move, but he watched her notch her chin and take a step back. Was she expecting anger from him? Was she positioning herself for a fight? “I’d like to get back to my work.”

  Her voice was quiet. Her bravado was slipping, but the walls were still intact. He didn’t like that he made her so defensive. He liked it better when he got her to relax and let him see a glimpse of light behind those walls.

  “I thought you wanted to know why you.”

  “Forget I asked. I don’t care.” She really was a terrible liar.

  “Yes you do, or you wouldn’t have asked.”

  Zee turned away from him. She swapped one brush for another and showed him her back. She wiped her palms on her jeans. He was making her nervous. Part of him wanted to slip his arms around her, kiss the back of her neck and tell her how he couldn’t get her out of his mind. How he wanted to run his hands over the tenseness of her shoulders and whisper that he was sorry for making her uneasy, that he’d never hurt her, but that he needed to be close to her.

  Yet the other part of him liked it when she was flustered. Liked it when he could get her to let her guard down for a minute. Rile her up. Make her eyes spark.

  “Could be I just like your ass.”

  ****

  As Jagger flipped on the wipers in his van, Zee’s question hit him again. Why? Why her? Why couldn’t he get her out of his head? She was like one of those songs that played over and over in your brain. And speaking of songs, he hadn’t written one damn note since that day he fixed George.

  Only an arrogant prig would think she needed his protection, but the business with her ex did bother him. Still she was more than capable of handling things. What was it that made him want her?

  She was right about one thing; he was rarely without female company. And when you moved around as much as he did, the “no strings attached” thing really worked with some sheilas. It worked with that overnight. Jackie. Nice girl. Great legs. But about as sharp as a sack of wet mice. He hadn’t seen her since that first morning of class. He hadn’t seen anyone since then. Not since he’d met Zee.

  Was that the reason? Zee wasn’t just some sheila he could give a quick tumble and wish her a g’day the next morning. No, when he thought about her, all he could think of was slowing down, taking his time. Long nights of deep kisses and slow strokes.

  He was here for another couple of months. You could live a lifetime in a few months. His father had. If he could spend that time learning every inch of Zee Lambert, sign him up.

  All that still didn’t answer the question, did it? Jagger gave a short laugh as he drove through the rainy afternoon. She did have a nice ass.

  ****

  By the time Zee was ready to head home, a waterlogged sun was setting behind rain-soaked clouds. It fell steadily as she raced to her car. Jagger’s visit had thrown her. If he was just playing with her head, he was doing a fine job of it. It had taken two hours longer than she’d planned to finish
the work she needed to get done. The parking lot was all but deserted.

  Zee pressed the unlock button on her key remote. She reached for the handle and broke a nail pulling on it. The lock held fast. “Dammit.” She juggled the things in her hands and double pushed the button again. Still nothing. Zee fumbled with her keys and got the driver’s door open. Reaching into the back, she manually lifted the lock post, then tossed her things in the back seat. She was completely drenched by the time she slipped behind the steering wheel.

  Something’s wrong. Zee fit the key into the ignition while clinging to a thin thread of hope. She turned the key. Nothing. No whirr whirr. No dashboard lights. No ding, ding, “your seatbelt is off.” Nothing. George was dead. Zee slapped his dashboard, whimpered like a little girl and dropped her forehead to the top rim of the steering wheel.

  Lifting her eyes to look outside, she watched as the rain poured down. The streetlights were coming on and the water running in rivulets down the window distorted and smeared their light.

  Zee had given back Jagger’s screwdriver, but she still had her ruined knife. She could fix this. She knew how. After reaching down to pop the hood release. She braced herself for the cold rain and got out. With the hood up, Zee ducked her head under as best she could. Darkness made it difficult to see, but she had fixed the damn ignition wire before so she knew where to find it.

  She fit the screwdriver into the slot between cold shivers and “righty tighty, lefty loosey” tried to turn it. The screw was in as tight as it could be. Well, that was the beginning and the end of Zee’s automotive expertise. She made the pretense of standing with her hands on her hips bent over the engine looking for something—anything that would jump out at her bright pink and flashing, Here I am, I’m the problem. The only thing she succeeded in doing was getting soaked to the skin. She got back into the car.

  “Okay. Think. What are you going to do now?” A cell phone would have come in handy at this point, but Leah was right, it was dead and collecting dust on the corner of her kitchen counter. She hadn’t had it on the charger since the day Ed called her eight times and sent twenty-four text messages.

  There had to be someone in the school building with a phone, but Zee couldn’t remember seeing anyone on the way out. It was Friday night. Everyone she knew was well on their way to their fabulous weekends: movie dates, dinners, shopping trips.