Venus in Love (4 page)

As always, Lee preferred to begin her visits on the ground floor in the Denon Wing. This was home to some of most wonderful Greek and Roman sculptures and antiquities. She had always appreciated the provocative sensuality of even the most religiously based sculptures. She was intrigued by the skill of the artist and how they managed to turn hard, cold stone into a creation so lifelike, all it would require would be the heat of her hand or the breath from her lips to free it from eternal sleep. She could barely resist the urge to run her hands over the smooth rock to feel the heat of the being pulse under the surface or cause the solid muscles to spasm under her palm. It reminded her vividly of how her touch could bring a lover’s body to life. But here she never wanted to be the one responsible for freeing the captive and depriving the world of its everlasting grandeur.

As Lee continued to analyze the eroticism of the
Borghese Hermaphroditus,
her senses were jolted by the unexpected yet familiar aroma of an ocean rain shower. Her head jerked up and she frantically scanned the room searching for its origin. Her legs turned to lead and her feet froze to the ancient marble floor. It was her. It was Venus. There was no doubt in Lee’s mind that the hair piled loosely into a nest of soft curls belonged to her Venus. Lee instinctively slid behind the nearest statue just as the woman stopped in her tracks, turned around, and scanned the room curiously. Lee watched invisibly as the beautiful woman made her way purposely toward the nearest stairway. Lee’s heart pounded in her chest, and her entire body ignited into flame. The beating of her heart pounded in her ears, and she wasn’t entirely certain that the sound wasn’t echoing in the room around her. Lee expected Venus to make her way up the steps just as the other visitors were; instead she disappeared purposely through a doorway clearly marked Staff Only. As the door closed, Lee felt a jolt of fear, as though all the lights in the room had been extinguished, plunging her into sudden darkness, and she was alone.

Lee noted the great unlikelihood that Venus was an employee. It was very uncommon that a non-European would hold a position at the Louvre, as they had very strict French citizenship requirements. Lee thought of the possibility that Venus knew an employee or staff member, but just as in her gallery, and even more so here, there were stringent rules about visitors and escorts. Venus had no escort and proceeded through the door with a definite purpose. Lee continued to stare at the door as she stepped out from behind the sculpture. She held her breath in hopes that Venus would reappear. When she accepted that Venus was not going to, she released it with a growl of frustration. She blamed the rush of oxygen for making her lightheaded, but it may have been something else entirely.

Lee decided she had to see her again. She knew that waiting at a door leading to a maze of hallways and many other exits would be pointless. She didn’t hesitate to call in the favor.

*

Morgan resisted the urge to open the door and look back out into the hallway. She had walked through the museum hundreds of times since working in Paris, but she had never felt the unmistakable feeling of being watched. She couldn’t explain it, and she couldn’t shake the memory of Lee’s eyes staring into hers. She had turned and scanned the room for a pair of familiar eyes but was met with a pang of disappointment when she didn’t see anyone looking in her direction.

“You are losing your mind, Morgan,” she said to no one. “And you need a nap.”

Morgan released the door handle that she’d been holding as she decided whether to look again. She shook her head at her silliness and continued on her way to the preservation office.

Morgan sat off to the side of the room as the white-gloved experts put the finishing touches on her final piece. She was overjoyed at the realization that she was finally going to hang the stunning Cranach at last. She had grown fond of the work in spite of her personal preference for his other identically titled piece. She watched intently as the conservators placed it in a gilded frame. She did find the work exceptionally stunning due to its unusually sexual undertones.

Like each of his many studies of the Graces, more than thirteen of them in various scenes and settings, Cranach depicted the three slender fair-skinned women in high contrast over a dark and gothic background, giving them an ethereal and sculptural perfection. Cranach’s inclusion of renaissance jewelry, headwear, and seductive body language reinforced the modern connection to the subject. She enjoyed the way he portrayed the subjects in comparison to his equally beautiful yet more classical depictions of the Charities.

Just as she was about to be presented the finished product for display, Selia, the director’s admin assistant, entered the room. Morgan wasn’t particularly surprised by the unexpected visit, since Selia was often seen down there visiting with her partner. Morgan gave her a friendly nod and smile and then realized Selia was approaching her, not her girlfriend as expected.

Selia smiled at Morgan. “Mademoiselle, I have been looking high and low for you. I should have known to check here first. Cheri said she was finishing the piece for you today.” Selia smiled over at her lover affectionately.

“Is everything all right?” Morgan asked.

“Oh, oui, yes, mademoiselle. Director Foillot sent me for you. He has a request, something about a private tour for a special guest.”

“A tour? But I have to…I haven’t given a tour in months. Certainly not since I began working on the exhibition. Why me?” Morgan barely contained her desire to throw herself on the ground kicking and screaming like a four-year old.

Morgan was beyond agitated. She was just about to get her hands on the Cranach and she had to give a tour now?

“I’m not sure, Miss. All I know is that Director Foillot asked for you.” Sensing Morgan’s increasing irritation, Selia began to move backward toward the door she had come from.

Morgan slapped her hands onto her thighs in surrender and exhaled loudly. “I’m sorry, Selia, it’s just…oh, never mind. Let’s go.”

As Morgan was leaving, she asked Cheri to call one of her colleagues to come and pick up the piece and hang it. Although she wanted to be the one to complete the exhibit after these many months, she knew that it had to be done, with or without her.

Morgan made her way to the director’s office, following closely behind Selia but not close enough to make conversation. She knew she had already made Selia uncomfortable with her earlier outburst, and since she was still irritated, she didn’t want to take it out on her. She was only following directions and did not deserve Morgan’s attitude for it.

When they entered the executive office area, Selia crossed behind her desk to the phone to announce the visitor. Morgan began to apologize to Selia, but her attention was drawn to the door on her left. As she turned her head toward the sound of laughter, she saw the door of the director’s office open. Director Foillot stepped to the side to allow the dark-haired figure from earlier emerge.

Morgan froze. Every last breath fled her lungs, and she felt dizzy. She pleaded for herself to breathe, but her body refused to comply. Just as her legs turned to rubber and her knees buckled, a firm hand grasped her solidly at the elbow and led her to a nearby settee. Morgan’s head felt like it was filled with cotton, and she heard the faint voice of a man call her name and ask for a glass of water.

“I’m okay. Director, I’m sorry. I must be exhausted. I’ve been so busy with the—” A glass was pushed into her hand as the firm hand released her arm, and she forgot what she had been saying.

Morgan sipped the cool water and tried desperately to compose herself before looking up into the eyes that stared back at her with concern. “Morgan.” It wasn’t a question. It was said thickly and full of recognition but with a fair amount of what sounded like fulfillment.

Morgan had never before heard her name spoken with such wonder. It was said in a way that made it sound like it was the most beautiful name in the world. At that moment, Morgan had never been so glad that it was her very own. She couldn’t and didn’t want to take her eyes off the woman staring back at her.

Morgan heard the director clear his throat and finally blinked and focused on him. As she stood to address him, the firm grasp returned, and she leaned into the support. When Morgan was on her feet, the hand and the woman left her side, and she felt a cool rush of absence flood her core.

Morgan cleared her throat as well. “Director Foillot, again, I apologize. I skipped lunch, and my body doesn’t appear to appreciate it.” It was a lie, but she couldn’t think of anything better in the moment.

“It’s okay, mademoiselle. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes, sir, I’m fine.” Morgan quickly changed the subject. “You wanted to see me, monsieur?”

“Ah, yes. Ainsley here is the daughter of a dearly departed friend. She has come to Paris for holiday and stopped in for a visit. She was hoping to get a tour of our beloved museum. I was thinking that since she has been away so long and not keeping up on her French”—he shot Lee an amused look—“I thought a personal tour by our most gifted American intern would be perfect. That is, if you are feeling well enough.”

“Actually, I was about to put the final touc—”

“Yes.
The
Trois Grâces
. C’est super. Lee was just telling me how she was deeply disappointed that the Cranach is not on display yet.”

“One of my colleagues is placing it now, while I am…here.” Morgan tried to hide her regret and disappointment.

“Excellente! It’s settled. Morgan, please see that my dear Ainsley sees whatever she wishes.” As he made his way toward his office, he called back to Lee, “Ainsley, don’t you leave our beautiful city without another visit with me.”

*

Lee couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe that her Venus, Morgan, was here and about to give her a grand tour of her most cherished place on earth. It was surreal.

Morgan was even more beautiful than Lee remembered. Lee’s eyes followed the length of the escaped tendrils as they cascaded down over her shoulders. When she looked into Morgan’s eyes, she found herself lost, and hoped never to be found. Morgan had lost a few pounds since college, but her body was still supple and perfectly proportioned. She couldn’t help but use the term Rubenesque. Her breasts were full and curved gently above her hourglass waist and voluptuous hips.

Lee swallowed around the knot in her throat. “Hi. It’s so good to
finally
meet you.” It was the only thing she could manage to say without sounding cheesy, and even then she wasn’t sure that she didn’t.

Morgan held out her hand. “Likewise.” Lee felt her whole body shudder at the delicate softness of Morgan’s hand. She held on for what was beyond reasonable.

Morgan withdrew her hand. “Shall we?” Morgan said as she motioned to the hall. “What would you like to see first?”

All of it
.“First…show me your favorite.”

“That is a difficult request to fill, Miss—”

“Lee, just call me Lee.”

“Okay, Lee. But I don’t know if I could have a favorite in a place full of the finest art the world has to offer.” Morgan sounded like a brochure, but Lee could feel the truth behind the words.

Lee smiled. “I agree, but you must have an affinity to one piece beyond all others, no?”

“Well, actually, yes. But I’m afraid it’s one of the most popular pieces here and usually crowded by hundreds of visitors,” Morgan said as if apologizing for the inconvenience.

“That’s fine. Take me to her.”

Morgan glanced at her. “How do you know it’s a
her
?”

Lee smirked. “Aren’t all of our greatest loves female?” Lee kicked herself for the blatant reference, but it was the truth, with the exception of her father. Lee pushed away the sadness as quickly as it came.

“Yes, you may be right.”

Lee’s heart opened at the acknowledgement. “So? Take me to her.”

*

Lee followed where Morgan led. They passed through the corridor that led to the Denon Wing. Lee guessed they were headed to Roman Antiquities, but when Morgan stopped near a group of chattering tourists, Lee was slightly confused. She looked at Morgan with a silent questioning.

“There she is. My greatest love,” Morgan said as she gazed up the grand staircase to the woman known as the
Winged Victory
. Everyone around them disappeared as Lee looked at Morgan.

Lee never thought she would once again get to see the passion and adoration in Morgan’s face when she studied art. The love shone in her eyes as she stared up at the marble beauty. Lee wished in that moment that she was a marble statue.

“Take me to her,” Lee said again.

They made their way up the steps slowly as if approaching the Goddess herself, asking with each rise, permission to enter her presence and adore her. When they finally ascended and stood at the base of the steps, they both stared in silence. Lee felt as if she were seeing Nike for the first time. She stood in companionable silence next to Morgan and studied the exquisite detail, from the quills of her feathered wings to the delicate fabric clinging intimately to her body.

“She never ceases to amaze me with her secrets,” Morgan said almost too quietly for anyone to hear. If Lee hadn’t been listening for the sound of Morgan’s soft breathing, she might have missed it too.

“Do you speak to her?” Lee asked so that only Morgan could hear.

“Sometimes.”

They spent a few more minutes walking around the
Nike
, quietly absorbing her presence.

“Where to next Miss…Lee?”

“How about we just walk and stop when something speaks to us?” Lee couldn’t remember anything she wanted to see. For now, she was more than content just being in the company of life’s most beautiful things, Morgan definitely included.

*

Morgan led Lee in and out of gallery after gallery, stopping occasionally when Lee would ask her a question or if Morgan had something she found fascinating to share with Lee. Morgan had long forgotten her initial frustration of being interrupted and was enjoying the company of her “special” guest. The museum would be closing soon, and she remembered that she had yet to show Lee the new Cranach piece. She wavered between excitement of wanting to show Lee the exhibit and the anxious compulsion to check her displays just once more.