In The Garden Of Snakes (An Erotic Summer Tryst) (6 page)

He clearly thought my distress was amusing,
which was alarming and irritating. “You have to delete them.
Please.”

“Don’t you even want to see what they look
like?” He pressed a button, and a gallery of photos appeared. I
stood next to him and saw myself in the arms of a woman, her face
pressed to my breasts, which looked enormous.

“Oh, my God.” It was even worse than I
thought. You could see my legs all the way to my ass and hips. I
looked so wanton, my hair a tangled, honey-colored mess all over
the bedding. Carmen was totally nude, her thin frame cuddled next
to me, her face peaceful in repose. “You can’t show these to
anyone.”

“That’s a shame. This would make a lovely
painting or two. Maybe even a series.” He raised an eyebrow. “I
could do an entire show. I’ll title it, Women In Love.”

“No!” He was joking, wasn’t he? “Please
delete them. Please.”

He smiled slightly. “I never thought I’d see
you like this, Jessica. Never in a million years.”

I silently agreed with him. “That’s not
me.”

“I think it is.”

“You don’t understand. I…I enjoy Carmen. I’ve
never been with anyone before, girl or boy. That was…just something
that happened. It’s private. You’ve no business barging into our
room and taking pictures. I’m sure you violated my right of privacy
or something. I won’t give you permission to use my image in that
way.” There. I had told him. I had stood up for myself. I’d never
been so assertive before, and it felt strange, yet nice.

His smile made my stomach drop. “Or I could
blackmail you, Jessica. You should pose nude for me or…I could text
your mother these photos.” His smile broadened. “Now, there’s an
idea. Why didn’t I think of that before? I’m short a model, and
from what I’ve seen, you’d do nicely.” He stared at me, and I felt
my lower anatomy contract with pleasure, which was worrying.

“No.”

“Suit yourself. Work calls. I’ll see you
later.” He took the stairs.

“Wait!”

He halted, pivoting. “Yes?”

“What are you gonna do?”

“Paint these images.”

“Shit.”

“Or I could just paint you, but you have to
show up and you have to be naked.”

I swallowed hard. “You’re not going to text
those to my mother, are you?”

Again there was a hint of a smile. “I should,
but I won’t. Come and pose for me. It’ll only take an hour or two
tops.”

“Th-that’s pornographic.”

“No. It’s art. It’s tasteful, Jessica. You’ll
be situated on a velvet divan with the proper lighting. I’ve done
Constance and Roberta and Sonya. I’ve even painted Carmen. There
nothing pornographic about it.”

He needed a model. His interest in me wasn’t
salacious or sexual. Why did I feel utterly disappointed suddenly?
“I’ll be down in a half an hour.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Carmen knew I was taking a walk. For some
reason, I hesitated to tell her about posing nude for her father.
It seemed like a secret I wanted to keep to myself, but not
disclosing this bit of information puzzled me. As I headed down the
path, the sun sprinkled down through the trees, throwing patches of
light on the ground. Little tingles danced in my stomach at the
thought of being nude in front of a man. He had seen me in bed,
naked, in the arms of his daughter. That thought alone sent little
shivers down my spine. I shouldn’t be reacting like this to a
pervert. There was clearly something wrong with Mr. Hollander.

The door to the studio was wide-open, and
classical music played. Joseph was dressed in slacks, a gray shirt,
and a smock, which protected his clothing from paint.

“There you are.” He smiled, staring at me. “I
wondered if you’d changed your mind.”

“No.”

“You look petrified.”

I eyed the velvet loveseat, knowing I would
be reclining on it…naked. A light was positioned in front of
it.

“Please. Make yourself comfortable.”

That means, get naked, Jess. Ugh
.

“Couldn’t I pose in my underwear?”

He sighed. “That defeats the purpose of a
nude still life.” He opened a cabinet. “Here. Let me show you what
I’m talking about.”

A canvas emerged of an oil painting of a nude
woman with huge looking breasts. It was Roberta. There was a slight
smile on her face, and her body was positioned in such a way that
her pubic area was hidden. There was nothing gratuitous or sexual
about the pose, although my mother would beg to differ. It was
simply a portrait of a beautiful naked woman who looked lifelike
and glowing.

“You’re good.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Amusement glimmered
in his eyes.

“Is this what you do for a living?”

“No. It’s a hobby. I paint in the
summer.”

I remembered him being some sort of
businessman. “What do you do the rest of the year?”

“Work in finance, which is a tedious
bore.”

“Oh.”

“So, let’s get started, shall we?” He waved
his hand towards the sofa. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get you
a cover-up.” He opened a drawer and handed me a white sheet. “Go
change in the other room and come back. You can disrobe slowly, if
you like.”

That appealed to me. Perhaps I could keep it
on indefinitely. Feeling slightly less fearful, I took the sheet
and left the room, stripping down to nothing and wrapping it around
me. When I returned, the light was on, and he was fluffing up a
pillow. I sat on the sofa, while anxious bundles of energy had me
trembling slightly.

“Okay.” He eyed me almost clinically. “I need
you to sit back and put one arm on the seat.” I did as he asked.
The hand that rested on the sofa shook ever so slightly. He tugged
on the sheet. “This has to go.”

I swallowed, gazing at the covering that was
draped over my breasts. Without it he would see the hardness of my
nipples and everything else. “I…fine.” I pulled it away, exposing
the lightly tanned quality of my skin. If the sight of my naked
breasts had affected him, he did not show it. He simply tossed the
sheet away and took my hand, placing it on the sofa.

“You need to get comfortable, Jessica. You’ll
be in this position a while.”

“I-okay.”

He moved my hair, placing it over my breast.
Standing back, he stared at me, his eyes darting back and forth.
“No. Let’s do this instead.” His fingers were in my hair again,
only this time he moved the silky strands behind my back, exposing
me again. “That’s better.” Then he fiddled with the light,
adjusting it to point over my head, instead of in my face, which
was a relief. “Okay. I think we got it.” The cool air of morning
made me shiver slightly. “I have a space heater, if you need
one.”

“I’m a little cold.”

“I’ll get it.”

Once the heater was on, he sat on his stool,
and began to paint. The sound of classical music filled the air. If
I had been worried about his intentions, I shouldn’t have. He was
methodical, clinical, and detached in his approach. I stared at him
while he painted, almost memorizing the way his hair fell onto his
forehead. He looked younger this morning, his features were
relaxed, his jaw wasn’t as tight, and his attention was interested
and…inspired?

Carmen suddenly appeared in the doorway. “Ha!
I knew it! You weren’t going to tell me, were you?”

“Hi.”

“I knew he’d get you. Those boobs are way too
awesome not to paint.” She wandered over and stared at Joseph’s
work. “It’s taking shape. He painted me too, ya know. Last year.”
She scratched her chin. “It didn’t take long to corrupt her, eh?
She’s only been here two days and look at her.”

Joseph gave his daughter a look. “You’re one
to talk.”

“You’re such a dork for taking pictures of
us. That’s like totally disturbing.”

His attention was on the canvas. “No. It’s
beautiful. I’m going to paint them one of these days.”

Carmen glanced at me. “You look nice,
Jess.”

I felt heat on my cheeks. “Th-thanks.”

“I’m gonna take a shower, and I’ll be back.
Do you need anything?”

“Can you get Jessica a bottle of water out of
the fridge?”

“Sure.”

She left the room and returned a moment
later, handing me the bottle. “Here ya go.”

“Thanks.”

There was something puzzling in her look, but
then it disappeared. “See ya later.”

After she left, Joseph continued to paint,
taking a break at the one-hour mark. The pungent smell of solvents
lingered in the air. I wrapped the sheet around me and glanced at
the progress. The image of a woman reclining on a sofa with soft,
feminine curves, lush breasts, and a slender waist were visible.
The face was blank.

“I’ll fill it in last,” he said.

“Oh.”

“What do you think?”

“It’s nice.”

He sat with his hands on his thighs. Little
blotches of paint were on his skin. I never realized how warm his
eyes were; the brownish pupils had little flecks in them. His
lashes were thick and long, and his mouth was fuller than I
expected. A rush of longing went through me, heady and bewildering.
He seemed to feel it too because he tilted his head slightly,
staring at me with a look of startled recognition.

He cleared his throat. “I’m gonna grab a
coffee. You want anything?”

“No.”

He strolled into the kitchenette. “You’re an
easy model.”

“Thanks.” I stared out the window at
flowering bushes, which moved in the breeze. “I think we can shut
the heater off.”

“Yeah. Go for it. Just pull the plug outta
the wall.”

When he returned and the break was over, he
painted me for another hour and then called it quits. I dressed in
the other room and wandered in to look at the painting. Joseph had
turned the music off and left. I stared at the naked woman in the
picture. He had filled in my face.

“He likes you.” Carmen was back.

“Huh?”

“He likes you.” She stared at the
painting.

“I…how do you mean?”

She shook her head. “The way he paints you.
It’s different.”

“It’s like his other work.”

“No.” She opened a cabinet and retrieved her
painting. “Look at my face. It’s not like yours at all.”

I laughed, “That’s because you’re a different
person. Duh.”

“No, that’s not it. There’s something missing
in mine. I look…kinda plain. My eyes are like dead or something.
He’s got you way better. There’s a lot going on in your face. You
look so soft and fuzzy and gorgeous. Mine is dull.”

I stared at each painting in turn and agreed
with her, albeit silently. “The subject matter is different, that’s
why.”

“It shouldn’t be.” She stared at my portrait.
“He likes you.”

“You keep saying that.”

“I think he wants to fuck you.”

I gasped, “Carmen!”

“He painted you like somebody would paint
their lover.”

Her observations produced little tingles in
my tummy. She was confirming what I had secretly been hoping. “It’s
just a painting.”

“No.”

“I gotta shower and have lunch.”

She shrugged. “I should be jealous.”

I pushed her gently. “Stop it. You’re being
so weird.”

“I can feel it. When I came in here earlier,
there was a total sex vibe going on between you.”

“That’s not true.”

She nodded. “I know you pretty well, Jess;
maybe even better than you know yourself. I know my dad too. He’s
totally interested.”

This conversation was disturbing. I had to
deflect the situation. “Let’s go back to the house.”

Her eyes watered unexpectedly. “I hate that
I’m gonna have to share you. It sucks.”

“That’s ridiculous. It’s just nude modeling,
and he’s married.”

“They haven’t been intimate in years.”

This bit of information was stunning. “How do
you know that?”

“Like, hello. I live with them. I know.”

“Well, I gotta eat something. I’m
starving.”

Our conversation had my mind spinning, and,
as we headed for the house, a strange anticipatory energy raced
through me. I had felt an immense attraction towards Joseph today.
He had always affected me strangely, even as a child. I couldn’t
help feeling that I was on the edge of something immense and
possibly dangerous. My emotions churned and roiled, like a boat on
a stormy sea. My insides were in turmoil, and the weather mimicked
me, the clouds gathering throughout the afternoon, the moisture
hanging in the air. Before the guests arrived, the skies opened and
a torrential downpour accompanied by thunder, shook the house; the
flashes of light outside were almost blinding.

I posed before a mirror, eyeing my outfit. “I
love this dress.”

“It looks amazing on you,” murmured Carmen.
She’d worn a light blue gown with see-through sleeves ending at the
wrists. The bodice was low-cut, exposing her modest cleavage. A
white mask hid her eyes. “You’re gorgeous, Jess. I’m totally
jealous.”

I’d found a black velvet dress in the back of
a closet. The formfitting outfit skimmed over every curve.
“Thanks.” I felt almost naked in the soft, utterly comfortable
material. My breasts were pressed upwards; the swell of my cleavage
was substantial. I planned to hide behind the mask all night. It
was the only way I was going to have the courage to go out in
public looking like this.

“Pictures. We gotta take pictures.” She held
a cellphone. “Smile.”

I posed for her. “Gimme that. It’s my turn.
Take your mask off. I can’t see you.”

“Too bad.”

“Dork.”

“Come on. Let’s party!”

A sea of colorful costumes greeted us
downstairs. Most women wore cocktail dresses, while a few had
adorned themselves in ball gowns. Everyone hid behind a mask, and
it was fun guessing who was who. Abby and Madison had on frilly,
pretty dresses with silly masks. Roberta looked like she had
stepped out of a scene from
Gone With the Wind
. A band
played music, while couples danced. I drank champagne, as did
Carmen, and we hung out with Sonya and Christian, who wore a
Phantom of the Opera
costume. He looked handsome in his
white and black mask.