by Lund, S. E.
"Are you feeling well?"
He pursed his lips. "A bit exhausted, as you can imagine. All this political bullshit, excuse my French, around keeping the base happy has me frustrated, but we'll get through this and onto the election soon enough."
"Take it easy, Daddy," I said, a sense of unease filling me. "Try to get enough rest. You know Grandma had problems with her heart." I thought of his mother, a tiny woman who had a series of heart attacks in her forties that left her with a failing heart and an early death in her sixties.
"My heart is like a racehorse's, so don't you worry your pretty little mind. I had a stress test and it was fine." He struck a pose, pressing a fist against his forehead to show his bicep. Then he laughed and turned back to the screen.
"If you say so," I said, unable to keep a smile from my face. "But you should still get plenty of sleep when you're under so much stress."
"Has Drake converted you into a nurse, my dear?"
I laughed. "No. This is your concerned daughter talking."
"I'll try," he said, making a face of disgust for a moment. "Elaine wants me to do yoga, of all things."
"You? Yoga?" I said and laughed out loud at the image of my father on a yoga mat in Downward Dog pose. "The world will surely self-destruct if that happens."
"You'd think so, but I did some meditation the other day so who can say what I might try now. Granola. Hemp seeds. Organic tofu, for Christsake."
I smiled at him and he smiled back.
"I miss you, Daddy. Give Elaine a hug for me."
"I miss you, too, sweetie. Say hello to that man of yours and give him a hug for Elaine and me. Love you."
"I love you, too."
I closed the window and sat back, smiling, a feeling of warmth flooding through me. Things were so much better with my father now and I owed it all to Drake. He made me see my father through different eyes – through the eyes of a grown man who needed a father-figure when his own father died. What I saw was a man with a very busy life and a family of his own, who took Drake under his wing, regardless. Who thought highly of me and who tried to protect me during my most vulnerable times when my mother died and when I came back from Africa with PTSD. Who only tried to encourage me when I expressed an interest in anything.
It was me who felt I had to do things to please him, not him who expected me to do so.
The next day came and it was time for my life drawing class at the Institute. Drake was up early, as usual, showering and dressing while I lay in bed, snuggled under the covers. I peered at the clock – it was barely six thirty and Drake was standing at the side of the bed, dressed in a pair of black jeans, a white button down shirt open at the neck. His hair was still wet and wild, his eyes a bit bleary because he was home late.
He bent down and kissed my cheek, his arms on either side of me, and then he nuzzled my neck.
"Ms. Bennet, I look forward to the weekend when I can stay in bed with you and wake you up with a slow fuck."
I hid my face from him, and smiled. He kissed my cheek, my chin, and then my forehead before stroking my jaw.
Then he was gone.
I dressed and prepared for my class, gathering up my supplies in my art kit, and called Jomo for my ride to the Institute. As usual, Jomo was exuberant and made pleasant conversation about the weather, asking me how we were liking the new house.
I went to the classroom and took my place at a bench, attaching the pad of newsprint to the easel, sharpening my drawing pencils. When Talia arrived, I went to her to ask about renting studio space.
"I heard that the Institute has some studio space available."
"It does. Do you need any? We rent out space here on this floor to students for a small fee. You have to share a space and share a schedule, but there's great light and lots of room for you to work."
"I'd like that."
"Good," she said. "I'll send you the prices in an email and you can sign up online, pay with a credit card or in person."
"Thanks."
She smiled at me and then turned to the blackboard and started to write something.
I went back to my bench and sat, waiting for the class to begin. A few of the other students arrived and a couple smiled at me, but that was it for interaction. We were all anticipating who our model would be for the day.
A few minutes after 10:00, Talia went to the center where the model would pose and spoke to us.
"Today, I am pleased to welcome Janus, our model for the day. We have few male models, so consider yourselves lucky to have Janus today. We'll follow the usual procedure – quick sketches followed by two longer poses with a five-minute break between sessions. Enjoy and welcome Janus."
We turned to the side door and watched as a young man with very fair hair and pale skin entered the room, a robe around his shoulders. He nodded to us, and shook hands with Talia as she left the inner circle of easels. He dropped the robe and was naked except for a thong-like privacy garment that barely kept his genitals covered. He had a nice body, with well-developed musculature and the light played nicely over his skin so that we could see his muscles clearly.
He did a series of athletic poses, mimicking various sports, like tennis and golf, then he continued with other positions of movement and action that highlighted his muscular build. We sketched away madly, trying to capture the motion and weight of his poses in a few broad strokes. He took a break in between the quick sketches and the first longer pose and I took one as well, leaving for the washroom and drinking fountain in the hallway. I smiled at a female classmate who was quite accomplished, a young African woman with short hair and artistic earrings, wearing a pair of painter overalls and a white t-shirt.
As I stood at the fountain, taking a drink, I saw a pair of Doc Martens standing a few feet away from me. When I stood up, I was face-to-face with a smiling Sefton deVilliers.
Damn… I had almost forgotten him. Of course, he had to show up when I was unawares. I wondered what he'd have to say to me, and if he'd make any double entendres.
"Hello, Ms. McDermott. Are you enjoying having a male model? You seem to like drawing them."
I forced a smile. "We're lucky to have a male model, according to Talia, so yes. I appreciate the opportunity."
I started to walk past Sefton, but he caught my arm. "I suppose your Doctor is too busy to do much posing now that he's working at the hospital. And teaching, so I hear."
"How did you hear about him?"
"I have my sources."
"Why do you care?" I said and pulled my arm out of his hand.
"I take an interest in all the artists in Nairobi. As the Artist in Residence, I like to get to know each one. Their quirks and unique interests. You, for example. You seem to be especially attached to that…" he said and touched my collar. "Choker." He accentuated the word and raised his eyebrows suggestively. "You were wearing something else around your neck the other night, if I recall…"
I frowned and my hands fisted as I fought to maintain control over my emotions.
"Cut the crap," I said, finally fed up with all the innuendo. "If you have something to say, say it."
"All right," he said, his arms crossed. He leaned against the wall and regarded me. When he spoke, his voice was almost a whisper. "I don't meet many submissives. When I do, I have an undeniable urge to get to know them, and I meet so few who are also talented artists and lovely as well. Have pity on me, Kate," he said, grinning. "How can I possibly resist you?"
"It's not proper etiquette to acknowledge someone in the lifestyle unless they want you to. I don't want you to. My private life is none of your business."
"You made it my business by performing live in front of me and a few dozen others the other night. If you hadn't wanted an audience of appreciating men, your Dom should have kept things private."
"We were wearing masks. That should have told you we wanted our identities to remain private. What we do is personal, between us. Please don’t mention this again. You make me very uncomfortable."
"If you insist, but you must understand I want you. I'll do pretty much anything to get you."
"There is nothing you can do to 'get' me," I said, angry. "So give up."
"Hope springs eternal. In my experience, submissives need a lot of attention or else they feel sad and neglected. If you ever feel neglected, you can give me a call. I wouldn't let you out of my sight if you were mine…"
"I'm engaged," I said. "You shouldn’t approach me, out me or make any suggestive comments."
"You're not married."
"Not yet."
"Exactly."
I stood staring at him, shaking my head. Finally, I gave up and pushed past him. He inhaled as I walked by and made a sound in the back of his throat.
I hated him.
Back in the room, Sefton's class had taken the empty benches. Janus returned and sat on a settee with no back, leaning to the side, his thighs spread, one arm on his hip. I decided not to move, too upset from my latest encounter with Sefton, my hands shaking. I tried to draw but my first attempts were ruined and so I had to turn the page and start over. Finally, after Sefton ignored me and spent his time commenting on his own students, I settled down and was able to get something down on paper but it wasn't my best effort.
Talia stood by me for a moment and watched me struggle with the pose, but said nothing. I wasn't sure if I could stand to deal with Sefton much longer. He'd seen us have sex. He clearly didn’t care that we were engaged. He clearly enjoyed upsetting me.
During the second break, I stayed in my seat and thankfully, Sefton ignored me. He and Talia spoke to each other at the back of the class, and then they walked around the easels, looking at the drawings and paintings and commenting to each other. His class had the choice of sticking with the first pose and finishing it, or starting another pose to get the experience. I looked around at the paintings and wished I could be doing one instead of drawing, but it was still so great to be doing art, whatever the medium.
If only Sefton was out of the equation, I'd be fine. Then, I got mad at myself. He was a bastard and I shouldn't let him ruin my experience. He was the one who was being rude. I made a decision to ignore him from then on. I wouldn't let him invade my space or my thoughts any longer.
Towards the end of the morning, as I worked on the final pose, a profile of Janus from behind so I could catch the lovely lines of his back and buttocks, Sefton came to stand beside me, watching as I worked on the final touches.
"Very good," he said. "Proportions are perfect."
"Thank you," I said, for although I hated his innuendo, he was a very skilled and talented artist, and I appreciated his recognition of my abilities.
He knelt down beside me and watched as I worked to finish Janus's feet, which I always found difficult.
"You're wasting away here, Kate," he said, turning to look at me, his expression serious, no hint of a leer in his eye. "Technically, your work is exceptional. You have a very good eye for perspective and shading. You really should be in the Master Class. What can I do to convince you to attend?"
I shook my head. "Quit teaching it," I said, my voice low.
"I can't do that. What else could I do?"
"Nothing." I glanced around, not wanting the other students to hear our conversation. "You make me very uncomfortable."
"I apologize if I make you uneasy," he said. "It's a bad habit of mine, pushing my luck. I don’t know why I'm like this, but I promise to keep myself in check if you'll take the class. You're too good to languish in this class."
"I'm happy to have Talia as an instructor."
"This is not a class with instruction, so you're missing out on a lot." He sighed audibly. "I could teach you so much, if you'd let me."
I turned to look at him, to see if there was that gleam in his eye, but there wasn't. He was being serious – for a change.
"Don't take that the wrong way," he said quickly, a small grin starting on his mouth. "I know, I know. You have a fiancé. You're taken. I promise I'll be totally professional, although it will be torture…"
I didn't smile. "I'll think about it. But only if you're on your best behavior."
"On my honor," he said, his hand over his heart. "I promise no more talk about your personal life other than to say that I don’t often meet someone who shares both my profession and my obsession. I find it hard not to pursue both."
He was a charmer, of that there was little doubt. I knew that if I had never met Drake, and I met Sefton instead, I would have been flattered by his attention.
"So can I tell Talia that you'll take the Master class? I know she's looking forward to having you in it as much as I am. And I mean that sincerely, as a professional."
I nodded, finally smiling. "I'll consider it."
"Please do," he said and smiled back. Then he looked around and made a face. "Oh, there's a man here, standing over at the door, looking at us very intently. He looks, from what I remember, like your man."
I glanced at the door and a shock went through me.
It was Drake. He leaned against the back wall, a cup of coffee in his hand, his gaze fixed on me. Other than his dark expression, he looked delicious, dressed in his faded jeans, a white shirt and over top of it, his lab coat. He must have come on a break between classes or surgeries. I smiled and stood up. "Excuse me," I said to Sefton, who also stood.
"Tell him not to worry," Sefton said, his voice conspiratorial. He took the opportunity to touch my shoulder. "I'll be a perfect gentleman if you take my class."
I went to Drake, searching his face to detect his mood. His face was unreadable, with the exception of his lips, which were pressed a bit thinner than normal. I knew he was upset at finding Sefton talking to me, the two of us smiling at each other.
"Ms. Bennet," he said, his voice soft. He took a sip of his coffee, as if trying to appear calm. "I thought I'd pop in and see what it is you artists do when you're not being watched. I take it that's your other suitor?"
"He's not a suitor," I said. "How long have you been here?" I put a hand on his shoulder to make a connection with him, show him and Sefton how I felt.
"Long enough."
I frowned. "What do you mean, long enough?"
"Long enough to know that he's got his eye set on you, Kate."
I forced a laugh, but it sounded hollow even to me. "He promised to be a complete gentleman and apologized for being improper."
"I'll bet he did."
"Drake…"
Drake exhaled loudly. "Kate, if you can't see his behavior for what it is, let me enlighten you. He wants you. He's probably decided to lay on the charm so he doesn't scare you off."
"He admitted as much." I shook my head. "He promised to be entirely professional."
"Of course he did. I did, too, if I remember correctly, and we all know how that turned out."
"What are you saying?"
He shook his head and glanced over my shoulder. I turned and saw that for his part, Sefton leaned against the wall by the huge bank of windows, his arms crossed. He stared across the room at me. When my eyes met his, he shrugged slightly, as if to say he wasn't at fault.
If looks could kill, Sefton and Drake would have already slain each other. I could almost feel the sparks fly between them. Drake took a sip from his coffee, but his eyes never left Sefton. For a moment, I felt as if this could only end in some kind of confrontation, so instead of letting the two men stare each other down any longer, I put my hands on Drake' shoulders, deciding to make a public show of my affections to drive home to both Drake and Sefton where my loyalties and desires lay.
I leaned up to kiss him but his body was rigid, his eyes half-hooded and I could feel the tension in his neck when I rested my hands around it. He didn’t bend down to meet me for a kiss so I had to stand on my tiptoes in order to reach him. He kissed me back, but it was perfunctory rather than heartfelt.
Talia came up to us.
"Kate, is there a problem? We're about to finish up."
I t
urned to Talia. "I'm sorry. This is my fiancé, Drake Morgan. He popped in for a moment."
Talia nodded, her expression one of polite impatience. "If you could wait outside, I find visitors tend to disrupt the class."
I looked back at Drake, who nodded. " Of course," he said. " I apologize."
He gave me a dark look and then went out the door, closing it softly behind him. I went back to my bench and sat down, my heart pounding. I tried to keep working on my drawing, but my hands were shaking from the adrenaline rush I had when Drake seemed so upset.
Finally, the class was over and we gave Janus a round of applause and passed around the hat for donations. I gathered up my pencils and art kit, and made my way over to the door, glad that the class was over but now I'd have to face Drake and try to convince him that there was no reason for him to be jealous.
Drake was waiting on the sidewalk, sitting on the curb, his arms resting on his knees. Jomo's taxicab was parked by the side of the road, Jomo leaning against it, chatting with Drake while they waited for me.
Drake stood when I walked up and dutifully took my art portfolio while Jomo reached out to take my art kit.
We drove back to the house, the silence in the cab almost unbearable. Even Jomo was unusually silent. I thought Drake would come inside for a brief time so we could talk this out, but he didn't get out of the cab.
"I have to get back and scrub in for a surgery at 1:00."
I checked my cell. He didn’t have time. I had to lean into the car through the open window on his side.
"I wish you wouldn’t leave like this," I said, emotion building in me, my heart pounding. I glanced at Jomo, who was busy putting in his earphones as if he wanted to give us privacy. "I don’t like to see you upset because of a misunderstanding."
"I understood perfectly, Kate," he said, not looking at me. "It's you who doesn't understand."
"Drake, don't leave things like this."
He shook his head, "We’ll talk later. Be waiting for me. In proper position."
