by Ines Johnson
"You need to get prepared." Her Mother pulled her attention away. "This bill must pass."
"Me? But this is Merlyn's study."
"Your sister will not be helping."
She'd assumed the passage of this bill and her ascendancy to apprenticeship would be an easy walk. "Mother I can't present it. I don't understand the science. Surely you can-"
"I will present the findings, but you will lead the lobbying. I have no gift for social nattering. That's what you're for. You wanted to be apart of the Sisterhood. You will get this bill passed. Otherwise our family will be ruined."
Lady Angyla stormed out of the chamber. Her Mother was not one for the dramatic, so Alyss took the words as the Goddess' gospel. Alyss turned towards the window. There on the horizon, she saw the dark purple now bruised the sky, eclipsing the happy orange from mere moments ago.
2
"The way you capture Her divinity in this painting is superb." The gallery manager, Geoffri, held Adom's painting in his hands.
Adom took in his work. Deep reds dominated the portrait depicting the blood of man seeping into the earth; a sacrifice to the sleeping Goddess below the surface. He'd clothed the slumbering Goddess in a garment of deep purple; her skin the brown of the earth, her hair a tangle of black curls. Her arms lay taut over her head as though she stretched towards consciousness -or, perhaps, a binding force held her willing arms tight to the core of the earth. Her lips parted, her back arched in waking -or, perhaps, in the throes of orgasmic bliss.
"This is the type of work that women are looking for."
Adom turned away from Geoffri and glanced around the gallery. The Jayne Austere Gallery was one of the most prestigious galleries of art in their society. On the walls were images of the Goddess walking the earth, greeting animals, embracing little girls. Adom stifled a yawn as he gazed at Her hands stretched out to flora and fauna. He itched to get back to his studio and work on the depictions he preferred. Even now the details of her angular brown face, liquid gold eyes, and dark crown of spirals with a hint of red were fading from his memory like drying water colors.
It had been three months since she'd stormed into Lady Chanyn's drawing room. Her eyes had arrowed straight to his painting. She'd praised his work and ripped it apart in the same breath. Her critique had taken Adom in a new direction with his work. In this new direction, her face appeared in each of his creations. She was the goddess of his desires. But Adom made sure to disguise the lady's features. Ladies did not pose for paintings such as these. It was blasphemous to compare oneself to the Goddess.
"So, you'll show it?" Adom said to the manager. The older man eyed his painting as though he could fondle Adom's muse.
"It? I can't show just it. There needs to be a series. At least two more."
Adom's stomach clenched. He only had the one. Well, that wasn't true. He'd drawn, painted, and sculpted the lady in numerous renditions since he'd first encountered her months ago. None of those renditions would fit the style for a gallery frequented by women, and Adom wasn't willing to share his muse with the male collectors who would eagerly clamor for his sensual depictions.
"I only have the one right now."
Geoffri peered down his nose at Adom. Adom was used to it. He was discard and a former Pleasure Hound. Typically only ladies, first son lords, and second sons had their work shown in respectable galleries. And by respectable, he meant galleries in which women frequented without masks and hoods to hide their identities while gazing at banned erotic works of art.
"The new exhibit opens in one week. You're lucky there was a cancellation. We won't have another such opening for months. You must have at least two more paintings to have a wall."
A wall? Adom had to bend his knees to keep his feet from bouncing like a little boy's. A wall in a respectable gallery. A place to show his paintings and get the recognition he deserved. He knew it was a chance of a lifetime, especially for a discard with no patroness. He also knew creativity of this kind, the Goddess in pastoral or sacral settings, eluded him. Even now his fingers itched to change the purple gown to reflect the tone of the lady's skin color. To erase the lace covering her chest and expose two breasts he imagined to have dark, brown nipples. To take the red blood seeping into the earth and attach it to her untamed hair.
It was difficult for his mind to render respectable pictures. His mind always veered toward the lascivious. He had no thoughts of his Muse in respectable positions. When he saw her in his mind's eye, she was carnally displayed. Lips parted, breasts erect, thighs open.
"Either you have two more paintings to make a series, or you cannot show. Be sure they are respectable." Geoffri had seen some of Adom's earlier work popularized in those underground galleries only frequented by men.
Adom couldn't refuse. He'd have to find a way through. He nodded and took his leave of the gallery.
The moment he stepped outside, the brisk air assaulted him. That painting had taken him weeks to refine. He'd had to take out so many carnal indications. There was no way he could come up with other sacral depictions of the Goddess in a week's time. At least not without the model herself posing in a respectable fashion. Which would never happen. His muse was a lady and a friend of his Brother's wife. He couldn't bring any shame onto Jian and his family. Even if the lady miraculously agreed, there was another, more secret reason he could never allow her to pose for him.
Adom's fingers twitched. He knotted them into a fist until the feeling abated. He stood on the front stoop of the gallery. His gaze fell into the gallery window and saw the Goddess in a field of pastel flowers. The Goddess shining her light on baby girls. The most risqué painting depicted the Goddess on her throne with men bowed down in prostration. The pedestrian pictures had never interested him before, but if he wanted to move forward and be a legitimate artist he'd have to play the game.
Adom left the gallery and walked back home. Up in the sky, traces of the deep purple from the night hung in the horizon. The vibrant yellow-orange ray overshadowed the purple. The green of tree tops rose up to greet the rays. Blue birds flew by to complete the palette. Adom stood still for a moment and stared at nature's symphony of technicolor.
Arriving home, Adom grabbed for the door to his shop, Adom's Leaf. It was a modest establishment in a descent part of town. Before he could turn the knob, the door opened. Inside the frame stood a dark god of justice.
Emet was breathtaking in his crisp linens and tie. A legal brief slung over his shoulder, a tablet in his hand. His square jaw set firm as he stared down at the device.
Emet's face lit up when he saw Adom. "Where have you been?"
"Out for a walk." Adom wasn't ready to share his big news with his bondmate until it was cemented. "You're headed to the Voice's offices?"
"Yes," Emet said. "I'm helping to prepare for a debate on the new Insemination Bill."
"Insemination?"
"Yes, the Male Voice just might let me take lead on this. It's a great show of his trust in me. We talked about this the other night, Adom.”
"Did I have a paint brush in my hand?"
Emet sighed. They both knew well that Adom went into a zone when he painted. The entire shop could burn down and Adom wouldn't notice.
Emet reached up and brushed one of Adom's thick locks from his brow. "Speaking of your little distraction, do you need any supplies; paints, brushes, or canvases. I can pick up some before I return home tonight.”
Adom jerked back from Emet's caress. "It's not a little distraction. And I can buy my own supplies."
Emet's hand fell to his side. "I'm sorry, Adom. That was thoughtless of me. I know painting is your passion, and I support you in it."
Adom turned towards the shop’s entry. The dress shop was Adom's play at making money with his creations. But in the two years the storefront had been open for business, he'd sold exactly six dresses. All of them to former clients from their days as Pleasure Hounds. And they were former clients of Emet's, not his.
Emet, who stood
half a foot taller than Adom and twice as broad, bent down to kiss Adom between his pinched brows. "Will you forgive me?"
Adom tilted his head to the side. The movement put his nose into the crook of Emet's neck. He inhaled the earthy scent of basil, an herb Emet always added to his eggs in the morning and his cutlets at night. Adom had fallen into the habit of adding the herb to his water jug, as though he could drink in the taste of his lover throughout the day. The truth was, without Emet's love and support, Adom would not be able to hold a brush in his hand, or stand on the stoop of his own storefront, or kiss the man he loved.
In answer to Emet's plea for forgiveness for an offhand remark, Adom reached his hand up and he kissed the man he loved. The kiss started light, an exoneration for a minor offense. But the scales quickly tipped into a major assault.
Emet pulled away first, breathing heavy. "I have to go or I'll be late. And I will be home late."
Adom leaned in and licked Emet's plump lower lip, then let his tongue caress the brown skin of Emet's chin. "You sure about that?"
Emet grinned. "Okay, only a little late."
Adom captured the juncture where Emet's chin and throat met, a spot which reliably brought the bigger man to his knees.
Emet let out a strangled breath, but held firm. "Fine, fifteen minutes at the most."
Adom pulled away and regarded the dark face he treasured most in this world. "I'll make it worth your while," he promised.
"I don't doubt it." Emet took a step to the side, his right leg a bit wobbly.
Adom smiled at the shake Emet had to give himself as he went down the steps and hopped into his conveyance. Emet gave his bondmate one final glance, a glance that told Adom it would be more like ten minutes of lateness, and then he took off.
Adom went inside and shut the door to the shop without locking it. Adom's creations hung lonely in the windows. There were rarely any customers. Women preferred other female clothing designers. They weren't interested in what a male thought looked good on their bodies.
He went down to his studio. All around him were pictures of his muse, mostly her body, not truly her face. In many of the depictions her arms were pulled taut over her head or behind her back. Her brown breasts stood exposed and erect, her thighs parted to reveal pink flesh. Such a lovely contrast, that pink to the brown flesh. Such a shame that none of these paintings would ever see the light of day.
He pushed these canvases aside and began to sketch out his lady, fully clothed, lips pressed together in a chaste smile, as she stood beside a baby doe.
3
"Merlyn you have to help me."
Alyss sat across from her sister in a cafe. Merlyn was no longer welcome in their Grand Mother's home, but she lived outside of the city in a dusty farmhouse where Alyss couldn't walk without getting mud on her shoes.
"Alyss, if you ever needed my help, I hope you know you can come to me."
"I'm coming to you now." Alyss was welcome in Merlyn's home but she took advantage of her sister's stop in to the city.
Merlyn shook her head. "This isn't for you, Alyss. This bill, this fight, has nothing to do with you. This is Grand Mother's and Mother's battle, not yours."
Merlyn sat up straight in the low back chair, as was her breeding. She sipped simple black tea in a plain white teacup while wearing a dull, gray sheath. But there was a brightness about her now. Her brown cheeks held a red tint, as though she'd been thoroughly kissed by the sun for many days. Her hair, which had always been pulled in a tight bun since she was a little girl, sat loose at the base of her skull, a few curly tendrils caressed her neck. Unlike the pinched look of Lady Milysa, marriage appeared to suite Merlyn quite well.
Well, it suited her well physically, but those males of hers were making her stupid in the head. What did she mean this wasn't her battle? Advancing the science of breeding was how the two of them were brought into this world. Obviously, their Mother hadn't engaged in the act of bed sport for the pleasure of it. The conception of both of her daughters had been about advancing her reproductive theorems.
Merlyn had uncovered the proof of their family's hypothesis: it was the male sperm that determined the gender of a fetus. In truth, it had been Merlyn's lab assistant and now bondmate, Liam, who had done the math to prove the thesis. After Merlyn learned that her Mother planned to use their scientific find to begin insemination trials, where the cultured specimen of a man's sperm would be injected directly into a woman's womb to produce a female offspring, both Merlyn and Liam denounced the endeavor and ran off to the outskirts of town with the former groundskeeper turned gigolo. Alyss still wasn't sure how Jaspir fit into the picture? But it didn't matter. Merlyn's help in presenting the science was all that mattered to Alyss.
"This is what you've worked for your whole life," Alyss continued. "It's what Mother and Grand Mother have worked for their whole lives, and you're the one who figured it out. Why don't you want to see it passed? If only to flaunt it in their faces that you did in your twenties what they spent years failing at."
"When I did this research I did it to further the science," Merlyn fingered the bond band on her left hand. "I've no desire to take away men's rights."
"What rights are we taking away? Over the last century we've restored many of men's rights. This bill will simply allow families to have the choice of genders for their unborn children."
"Alyss you know all families will choose to have girls."
"I don't see why that's so bad?"
"If we hold men's sperm captive, what need will we have of men?"
"Exactly."
Merlyn sighed in that way when Alyss didn't understand a math problem. "I won't be apart of objectifying man-kind any more than they already are. They've suffered enough for their sins."
Alyss spent the better part of an hour arguing with her sister. She batted her eyelashes. She pouted her lips. She even tried using logic and reasoning with her science-minded sister. Finally, Alyss threw a hail-Goddess and tried for a jab at Merlyn's ego.
"You'd rather your scientific find be unknown, lost to history and later rediscovered by someone else?"
Merlyn hesitated, but then her back straightened even more. "With this find...maybe it's for the best. Unless you can find a way to make it fair for all."
Fair for all? Bringing more girls into the world; evening out the gender disparity; wouldn't that make it fair for all?
Merlyn reached a tentative hand out to her sister. Though the two were close in age, they were not close in the way Alyss witnessed with other sisters. Affection was not the norm in their family.
Merlyn's hands were warm and tender as they rested lightly on top of Alyss'. "I spent my whole life letting them define who I was, letting them dictate the course of my life. Don't let them do the same to you." Merlyn gave Alyss’ hand a squeeze and then rose to take her leave.
Alyss shook her head as she watched her sister exit the shop. Her Grand Mother had always told them both that sex addled the brain. Alyss knew Merlyn was having lots of it with her two bondmates. Her sister would be of no help to her. She would have to do this on her own and she had no clue how that would happen? She left the coffee shop and got into her conveyance.
She'd never lobbied a bill on her own before. She usually created the graphics for the other apprentices in the chamber. Alyss knew the basics of lobbying. It was arguing, and she was great at swaying people to her way of thinking. Where she got distracted was in the facts. All those numbers and boring findings. Alyss had no patience for it. But then she remembered that she was up against a man, not a woman. Men had no mind for facts or logic. They were creatures of desire and instinct, not systems and principles. She'd just smile, string together words, perhaps add an inflated compliment at the end, and viola.
She'd been desired by every male she'd ever encountered. No man's base instinct could resist her smile. She could smile at the Male Voice and get him wrapped around her finger. He’d drop his opposition and the bill would pass. It would be easy.
Alyss had been so wrapped up in her new plan that she'd taken a wrong turn down the street. She wasn't sure where she was. She was about to turn around when something beautiful caught her eye. It was a dress in a shop window. The dress was a simple, unremarkable color: beige. But the detail was stunning, and the fabric was...what exactly was the fabric?
Alyss pulled up to the shop and got out of her conveyance.
Adom's Leaf, the sign above the shop read. Alyss smirked at the reference to the mythological tale of a male god crafting man first, then pulling woman from the man's ribs. The two were left naked on Earth with only tree leaves to cover themselves. It appeared this proprietress had a sense of humor. Alyss couldn't wait to met her.
She went inside. A bell rang over top the door, but the shop appeared deserted. Alyss stepped up to the dress. Upon closer examination she saw that the intricate detail work was a mass of woven pieces of cloth.
No. Not cloth. Rope.
From the bodice to the skirts, the garment was made of knotted rope. It was an odd choice for material. At the same time, it was a brilliant choice for material. Alyss had to have it. But first she needed to find the genius woman who made it.
The sound of footsteps came from behind her. Alyss turned from the dress in the window and nearly screamed. Standing before her, looking as shocked as she was certain she looked, was her mystery artist; the male she'd seen at her cousin Chanyn's home. The male who'd gifted Chanyn with the painting Alyss couldn't get out of her mind.
"You," she whispered.
"You," he said simultaneously. His voice a soft cushion that beckoned Alyss closer.
They stared at each other a moment longer. His skin showed a healthy tan. His features were dark; dark eyes, dark curly hair. Even his curls, with thick swoops that fell around his face, had an artful sway about them.