Body Wisdom & Uncompromising Portraits

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  “You don’t mind, do you?” Sydney said, not even certain that Malcolm had heard her, he was so engrossed with his new fetish.

  “Thanks for the reprieve,” Sydney shouted to Tomas when they were dancing face to face in the center of several dozen other couples.

  Tomas smiled, and showed what fine form he was, his hips moving along erotically with hers, as they danced chest too chest so close to each other that the top of her bustier was grazing his naked pecs. Naked, except that he had on a short leather jacket, and leather pants, and a thick leather collar around his neck. He was as stunning as she’d ever seen him. So used to him completely naked, she found herself moving to his movement with a renewed sexual arousal, almost frightening in its depth.

  For all the oddness of the party, Tomas was one comforting piece. She rather hoped he’d stick around. Glimpsing Malcolm schmoozing with Jessica Crabtree on the sidelines, his lips finding places to plant small kisses on her neck and cheeks, Sydney wasn’t particularly looking forward to interrupting them; and she certainly wasn’t interested in clinging to his arm again.

  Sydney and Tomas danced in the relative safety of the crowded dance area, the music was blaring, the lights continued to flash, and the heat around them was rising so Sydney felt as if she was about to burst through her clothes. She tried not think of how much her feet ached in the spike heels, and she sure as hell wouldn’t be trying to sit down and rest, when getting up would only make her feet hurt more. Better they were numb and stayed numb.

  When Tomas danced close, they moved in unison to a more mellow beat, and she relaxed easily in his familiar arms. His gentle exploration of her body didn’t bother her, even when he pulled a nipple from the bustier and leaned down to kiss it. By then, all manner of body parts were being unveiled, and no one cared, and the only watchful glances were eyes admiring the show. It was an exhibitionist fantasy that had Sydney intrigued and finding a new level of exhibitionism that she never believed possible for herself. She might have been dancing nude in front of these people, and it wouldn’t have mattered. Though complete exposure wasn’t the point. Tease, titillation and sexual kicks were. It might have been the freest environment Sydney had ever been in, not because she was about to parade herself around in leather, but because she was so free to be herself, and do anything she wanted without judgment. Had Gabriel been there, what would he have thought? She decided that he would have spent two minutes i the room and hurriedly left.

  Taking a break, Sydney found a punch bowl to quench her thirst, but thinking better of it, she poured herself a glass of Coke from the freshly opened bottled, she wanted nothing funny in her refreshment to cloud her thinking. A good high, as Malcolm had suggested, might lead her into something she didn’t want. She knew she was far too impressionable right now to trust herself with this bizarre crowd.

  Tomas had taken off somewhere too, vowing to return; but not finding him, Sydney drank her Coke, then looked around for the nearest bathroom. Sensing one on the far side of the room, Sydney had to pass by Malcolm to find it.

  “You two looked like you were having fun,” Malcolm said, grabbing her arm as she tried to pass unnoticed.

  She let herself be led back to his side, as he was quite alone, Jessica elsewhere.

  “Oh, we were, and you obviously are enjoying your new project.”

  “It’s a fascinating world.”

  “I’m sure. You know Malcolm, it’s okay to end things with me. I know I probably don’t have to say that, but I like clearly defined ends.”

  “Yes, that’s your whole problem now, isn’t it,” Malcolm suggested. His eyes look old and weary to her, maybe it was from the third scotch he’d just downed.

  “It’s not my problem right now, because I’m not going to have any problems tonight,” she said.

  “That’s spirit, Syd. And you’re probably right, we should call a halt to our affair. It’s always the way with me, I go on until the winds blow in a different direction, I guess you could say there’s a easterly breeze pushing me along.”

  Sydney nodded, perfectly happy to let him find the winds of change, and giving him nothing more than a quick smile. She moved off, realizing that she didn’t need to add a sentimental epitaph to an affair that turned out as meaningless as theirs.

  Finding the bathroom her next project, Sydney skirted along the wall behind a group of people that were inspecting each other’s piercings and tattoos. It was a curious bunch, and not necessarily a group of people she’d want to spend time with. Once she was out of the bathroom, if Tomas didn’t appear, she planned to find a phone and a taxi, and an easy exit.

  The ceramic tiled ladies room was a cool contrast to the heated air in the loft. After taking care of business, she almost regretted having to leave, and rejoin the mass confusion outside. Her head was spinning without having anything more than two beers much earlier. It was probably just the general atmosphere that forced her into an altered state; her thinking wasn’t clear at all.

  Moving down the hallway, back toward the main room, Sydney suddenly found herself forced face forward against the wall of a small alcove. It was a dark corner, and some dark man was pressing against her with a leather clad crotch—she knew that because she could hear the sound of the leather creaking. Looking over her shoulder, she was relieved to find it was Tomas, a vivid, warm and turned-on smile crossing his lips.

  “You as hot as I am?” he whispered in her ear.

  Sydney could feel the fire return to her anxious loins, the whole flood of desires that had been clamoring at her all evening, all too apparent, especially the way she moved back into Tomas’s hovering body.

  “You know me much too well,” she whispered back to him, just as his hands were pulling up her skirt. “Right here?” she asked.

  “What better place,” he purred in her ear.

  His hands were invading her from the back side, fondling the rear crack, and deeper below to her cunt. There were a few people passing by, but apparently they weren’t bothering to notice the barely concealed couple. No one stopped to look as Tomas fondled her, one hand in front releasing her breasts so that he could pinch her nipples. Sydney let out tiny squeals that were only drowned out by the music.

  “Ah, Tomas, yes,” she gave her consent. The words didn’t matter, but as soon as they were spoken, he knew she was his to use, and taking both of her hands, he placed them over her head on the wall.

  “Keep them there, darling, out of the way, I’ll take care of everything.” And he did, his cock exposed, he grabbed her rear end and thrust his way into her cunt. Feeling him there was like exploding grenades in her body, the lower half hot and welcoming, and so close to climaxing the very instant of his penetration, that she had to hold off and wait for him.

  They bucked together to the backdrop of music, and smoke, and chatter and a few female shrieks—for

  god knows what reason. Things were getting wilder still, by the second, as their climax built to a fierce peak. Sydney squeezed hard against Tomas, while she moved her hips, letting one delicious feeling after another jolt her every which way, until at last, she couldn’t hold back any longer, and she cried in whimpers and squeals as Tomas pounded her hard.

  One wild lusty groan and he was finished too.

  For a few short seconds Tomas collapsed against her, the posture of submission taking hold and washing over her pleasantly. Never before. Likely never again. Though she’d never regret this one.

  “You surprised even me,” Tomas whispered in her ear. It was the only way she was going to hear him, because the infernal noise around them continued on.

  “Did I?”

  “Maybe Malcolm’s right. You’ll do anything.”

  “Maybe, it depends on who I’m with,” she said.

  Tomas was pushing her skirt back around her hips, and replacing his cock in his pants. He pulled Sydney to him, when he was done, and held her with her back to him, as he carefully pushed her breasts back inside the bustier. “You did good, and you n
eeded it,” he said.

  “You think so?”

  “Yeah, Malcolm’s pretty much a jerk for a date tonight, fawning all over Jessica.”

  “I don’t care about Malcolm anymore, let him move on to another fantasy.”

  “So, you want to split?” he asked.

  “Oh, heavens yes, I was about to look for a phone, before you attacked me.”

  “Then the least I can do is take you home,” he said. And he led her through the madly moving throng of leather and chain clad bodies to find her cape, and to exit this den of iniquity.

  ***

  It wasn’t five minutes and Tomas stopped his car in front of Sydney’s apartment.

  “You want to come up for a drink?” she asked.

  “You look a little too tired for that, Syd,” he said.

  “Shows that much?”

  “I messed you a up a little,” he said, patting her unruly hair, that was quite provocative, in its after sex state.

  “Sometimes, Tomas, you have the perfect solution to my woes.”

  “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be a solution for,” he said, smiling.

  All the intimate time they’d spent together, they’d never really had a conversation. He’d run interference between she and Malcolm, had soothed her, screwed her, and yet reminded her so much of the man she loved that she couldn’t let herself be swept up by his gentle caring. There were times when she wondered if Tomas was Gabriel’s flip side, the side that had no moralistic quandaries over sex, the side that was easy going where Gabriel was uptight and so intense it made him difficult to be with. Wouldn’t it have been ironic that here was the perfect match for her, right under her eyes. . . willing, charming and so very natural?

  Sydney looked at his handsome face with its tender smirk. Unfortunately, Tomas was not a one woman man. To try and fix him in once place and put expectations on him, he’d end up being as surly and critical as Gabriel sometimes was. So often men outside of relationships had their best sides present. Their nasty dark side only appearing when real commitment stared them in the face.

  “Well, thank you for tonight, and for not coming upstairs,” she said.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, putting a hand at her neck he guided her mouth to his lips.

  “You’ve been quite a woman to spend so much time with. I thought the blessed modeling was going to be insufferable. You have no idea how Malcolm and I argued about my doing this. I swore I wouldn’t do it for a day.”

  “I never knew that.”

  “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

  “But you did stay.”

  “Because of you, certainly not because of Malcolm.”

  “Are you going to model again for him?”

  “Not on your life. Mal’s already suggested I get into my leathers and do this next thing with him. I told him I wasn’t going to play in that playground. Not that I don’t like leather and chains and bondage.”

  “You do?”

  “With certain women, but I’m not into parties.”

  “You knew those people at Marco’s?”

  “Some of them.”

  “So with the rest of your life?” It was odd that she knew so very little about the mysterious man.

  “I write,” he said. “Short stories, poems, and some articles about the arts. I have a play I wrote that I’m producing at a little theatre downtown.”

  “Really? Do I get to see it?”

  “I’ll send you tickets,” he said.

  “And you can come to my art show.”

  “Hey, I wouldn’t miss it.”

  There was a bittersweet quality to the whole night, the same hot fires of sexual freedom had done crazy things to her body and mind. But even with Tomas, as considerate and caring as he was, he was nothing more than just a passing fancy, that was now passing on. Such fancies she had learned, left her physically satisfied, but not complete.

  She was passing on to another phase of her life, without Malcolm, and without Tomas, and without . . .

  No, she wouldn’t think of that, Gabriel wouldn’t be gone from her life too, there had to be a way for them to get beyond their differences.

  ***

  It was a spur of the moment thought, just as Sydney was about to collapse into bed. She looked at the phone a dozen times before she finally gave in to the impulse. Even after dialing his number, she shook with fear. And hearing Gabriel answer on the other end, she was just as nervous.

  “Gabe?”

  “Yeah.” She heard his groggy voice reply. “Is that you, Syd?”

  “Did I wake you?”

  “Yeah, but it’s okay.”

  “I’m sorry about the other night,” Sydney said. “It ended all wrong and I’m sorry.”

  There was a pause that seemed to last an eternity before he answered. “I should have knocked,” he said.

  “But, I could have welcomed you,” she said. “I mean, it’s not like you’ve never seen me masturbate.”

  “We’re both making mistakes, Syd,” he said. He was sounding so kind, so much like the Gabriel that she remembered teasing her around the apartment until they fell happily in to bed together, so much like the man who picked wild flowers for her and stuffed them into a jar so she’d have something “wild” to paint, so much like the man who would wrap his arms around her at the easel and drag her off to bed with paint still on her fingers . . . .

  “Can I see you soon?” she asked.

  “Sure,” he replied.

  “That’s good,” she said. “I guess I should let you sleep.”

  “But Sydney,” he interrupted her goodbye. “You looked really hot the other day, I mean really hot.”

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “I got angry because I was scared.”

  “Of what?” she asked.

  “I was afraid I was losing you.”

  Sydney didn’t have the words to answer him, so she stumbled over her goodbye and hung up the phone feeling happier than she had in some time.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sydney was as nervous as a child on Christmas morning. There was an enormous lump in the pit of her stomach that was grinding, and another in her throat that was making it almost impossible to talk. She was down to whispering as she talked with the gallery director about her show. She hadn’t been happy at all when she arrived, just before the seven o’clock opening. Two paintings had been switched without her authorization, even though she’d been specific the day before, going over all the preparations with the gallery staff.

  This was her very first, original, one artist show. The offer to do it had come to her half way through her modeling for Malcolm; though she hadn’t been certain that it would really come off, until they were nearly done with Mal’s project. For every waking hour of the last two weeks, poured every ounce of energy she had into the finishing touches on ten new pieces, as well as getting her older paintings ready for a retrospective of her older work.

  It was nonstop, dead-tired work that made it easier for her to forget about men—every one of them that had plagued her life for the last six harrowing months. Tomas and Malcolm were certainly gone, but Gabriel was still hanging on by a thread. The promised meeting didn’t come off. Not because neither one tried, they both had suggested times and places but something always came up, Sydney’s work on the show, or Gabriel doing overtime at his office.

  When they did talk, sometimes it seemed a healthy continuation of the conversation they had the night of Marco’s party. Sometimes it was as prickly as it had been before; but more often Gabriel was open, caring and willing to tiptoe across sticky subjects without getting too testy.

  Perhaps his openness was only because she wasn’t modeling anymore, and he knew she wasn’t having sex with anyone. Regardless, Sydney held out a faint hope that they could finally resolve their differences.

  Her last conversation was several days before the show.

  “You will come, won’t you?” she asked.

  “I
s this you, or your paintings?” he wondered.

  Sydney knew Malcolm’s showing wouldn’t debut for at least a month. She wondered if that was what Gabriel really wanted to see.

  “These are mine, hon, Sydney’s paintings, not Sydney’s body.”

  “Good,” he said.

  She let that comment drop, realizing that they might have quite a messy conversation when the Eisley exhibition was ready. She had no idea how he’d react to his wife’s naked body, coupled with another man’s, rendered in oils for thousands of people to view. She could just hear the judgment that would pour from his lips, the dark aspect that would light his eyes, as his Italian sense of being wronged would loom over her. Then again, he might not be upset at all.

  “I’ll be there,” Gabriel had told her.

  “You will?”

  “I will, Syd. I wouldn’t miss it. I’ve always loved your painting.”

  “Good, I’m glad. It’s at seven.”

  “I’ll be there on the button.”

  Sydney smiled to herself afterwards, thinking that her showing would be just the place for something new to begin. And, it took just seconds to plan the scenario in her mind, something loving, something honest, and something so hot, they’d screw their way from the gallery to the apartment, and wouldn’t stop until noon the next day.

  When the doors to the galley opened at seven, there were a few guests already waiting to get in. Sydney had grabbed a glass of champagne from the first tray that passed her and downed it quickly, thinking it might settle her nerves. Taking one last look at herself in the mirror and straightening her skirt for the hundredth time, she waltzed toward the middle of the gallery and put on a bright polished and very nervous smile, as she watched the reactions of the people standing before her heart and soul rendered lovingly in oil.

  The show was everything that Sydney hoped it would be. For a first small one, there were quite a group of people attending, many she knew from her art classes, friends, and others she’d never seen before, which meant they’d heard or read about her work. The art editor from the paper, as well as a columnist from a local scene magazine were there, both impressed with the painting. Malcolm showed up at eight, and Tomas at eight thirty.