Paint The Rainbow

by John Harris

With his hands pressed against the tiling in the shower, Ryan pushed his lips together and pressed the tip of his cock against the cold tiling on the wall. He groaned deeply.

  Finally, he decided to let himself go. He was tired of fighting the ever-growing emotions that burbled inside of him like hissing liquid in a cauldron. Questions began to form in his mind: How could a guy do it for him? He had a nice smile—no, that was not it. He needed more to go on.

  Ryan groaned again. He has a nice ass. Apparently, his idle glance at Mason’s backside had not been as innocent as he made himself believe. Without Ryan knowing it at the time, his eyes had been drawn to it. In a millisecond, all Ryan wanted to do was be inside Mason—to feel Mason’s length buried inside of him.

  His eyes snapped open as the understanding dawned on him. He fumbled on the small ledge in the corner of the shower with nervous fingers. He took a tube of fruity body wash and squirted a generous portion onto his palm. At once, he started to slather it across his chest, rubbing and massaging the gooey liquid onto his skin. The scent of cleansing seemed to ferment into an intoxicating alcohol in the steaming air. He smiled and finally allowed himself to imagine that it was Mason’s strong hands that were lathering his body into a soapy film.

  Ryan took the shampoo from the shelf and squeezed the white liquid onto his waiting hand. As he worked it into his wet locks, he continued to think of Mason. He imagined that the superstar was watching him wash his hair and taking in the sight of him—the sight of his powerful erection pointing in his direction. Then Mason stepped into the shower. With meticulous detail, Ryan imagined him stroking his cock, watching him squirm.

  The scent of crisp grapefruit and green almond mixed with the romantic notes of camellia petals, and lily replaced the previous dominance of the body wash’s perfume. One frothing swath of wet hair slid down against Ryan’s face, along his lips. Instinctively, he sucked on it, like it was Mason’s cock.

  The redness on Ryan’s face strengthened. No more was it only the steaming water that caused it. He felt momentarily ashamed, but that shame only served to turn him on more. Ryan’s hand moved away from his head and gripped his cock, tightening around his girth. Without much attention to it in the past minutes, it already dripped precum.

  He moaned, “Oh fuck,” as he let the fantasy run amok. He needed every shred of it because he was clueless on how the whole gay sex thing worked. He had once thought he knew a gay man when he saw one. Also, he was certain that Juan was right and Mason preferred men to women. The looks he had given him back in the boutique had been proof enough for Ryan.

  Just the thought of Mason wanting him had Ryan stroking himself faster. He imagined Mason stroking his own cock while he looked at the object of his desire, begging too for Ryan’s cock. Ryan intuitively knew that Mason would love to feel him in his hands, his mouth, or his ass. He thrust his cock into his hand as if he was plunging in into Mason’s body. He imagined how it would feel, what sounds he’d make, and whether Mason would jerk off while he did this to him. He’d love it—I know he would.

  Ryan’s body tensed. He felt himself shudder as the heat of orgasm shot up from deep within him. It rolled over his entire body in undulating spasms—pulsating and streaming until he erupted. Load after load shot onto the shower floor, his body tightening and back arching.

  When the calm started to settle in, Ryan let out a heavy sigh. He spent a few seconds rubbing his body off under the hot cascade. Stepping out of the shower, he finally felt relieved.

  But by the time Ryan was dry and dressed in his pajamas, doubt and worry consumed him. What just happened in the shower explained his anxiety over connecting to women in a meaningful way and why, since the breakup, he had assiduously tried to avoid any kind of flirtation with them. Ryan understood why he enjoyed joining Juan at all the gay clubs he’d been frequenting recently. He tentatively gave himself the answer—I guess I just like men.

  If this were truly the case, then there would be a whole lot of stuff to work out. What would Dad think? Ryan guessed that his mom and Amber would be okay with it. Juan would be over the moon. Not because he’d want him, but just to know that he was right all along. What worried Ryan the most was that he only wanted to experience what he had just discovered with Mason, and the guy was married. Maybe Mason just liked sex with men from time to time, but his main preference was for women? Ryan switched off the light in his bedroom and clambered into bed. He was exhausted, and sleep soon claimed him.

  The following morning and afternoon had been a whirlwind of activity. Still confused by the previous night’s revelations, Ryan had barely registered anything. Not even when the art transport company had turned up at Amber’s place to take the painting did Ryan acknowledge much.

  Later in the day, after Amber and Juan had fussed endlessly over Ryan’s outfit for the event, they departed for the gallery. Ryan had been a monosyllabic wreck the entire time. Neither Juan or Amber had a clue that it was all due to Ryan’s awakening, an epiphany he had not yet come to terms with.

  “Oh my God! This is Mason Whitelock’s place,” Juan said, entering the whitewashed building that was comfortably nestled on an elaborate square with a fountain in the center.

  Ryan looked up. For the first time that day, he showed some kind of response to his friends. “How do you know?” His voice betrayed his nerves.

  Juan rolled his eyes. “This place has been all over the celebrity magazines. I’d recognize it anywhere.”

  Next to him, Amber nodded her agreement. Her eyes were the size of saucers. “Juan’s right. This is where Mason lives with his family.” She scanned the ornate entrance hall. It was so large that her entire apartment could fit inside of it. A white marble twin-staircase rounded up to the second floor, culminating on a landing above them, all a tasteful combination of modern elements and old-style chic.

  The idea that Ryan might soon bump into Mason made him nervous as hell. What was he to do? He knew that he would blush crimson when confronted with the man. His every intention and want would be written on his face like a headline in the morning newspaper. Desires that he had not yet had the time to organize, let alone comprehend.

  “You okay, Ry?”

  “Huh?”

  Amber looked at her brother closely. “You’ve barely said a word all day, and now you’re fidgeting. I know you. You always acted like this when you were hiding something.”

  “It’s nothing, sis. Just a little apprehension, that’s all.” Ryan flicked his head at the many elegantly dressed people swarming into the mansion.

  The expression on Amber’s face softened. “Oh, Ryan, you’ll be fine. Your work is incredible and everybody here will see that.” She took her brother’s hand and squeezed it.

  Ryan smiled at his sister. If she only knew what was really bothering me, he thought.

  “Guys, come on,” Juan said. “We can’t just stand here. There’s an open bar in the other room… I can smell it.”

  “You better have a few drinks before this thing really gets started.”

  With his gaze raking the people swarming into what Ryan assumed was the living room, he did his utmost to calm down. He was grateful that nobody knew that he was one of the artists presenting his work.

  Liam stepped closer with a short bald man in tow. “Good evening, Ryan,” the gallerist said. “What you produced is absolutely divine. When I saw your work, I knew that you had the makings of a world-famous painter, but when I saw what the transport company brought around this morning, I nearly passed out. Wonderful, truly wonderful.”

  Ryan blushed. He was not used to receiving so much praise from anyone. “Thank you, Liam.” He didn’t say anymore. It was all too much for him. In the space of twenty-four hours, his life had changed before his eyes. Ryan felt a bit like a bystander, watching as his fate played out before him. If was as if he had no say in the way it would all play out.

  “There’s no need to be so modest, young man.”

  “Modesty is a good thing, but in your cas
e, too much of it is not warranted,” the man standing next to Liam said.

  “Well said, darling,” Liam patted his partner on the back. He introduced Collin to Ryan, Amber and Juan. After that, Collin excused himself when he saw someone he recognized. “You’ll have to pardon him. He’s always on the lookout for potential clients. His main focus is on classic artwork, but he also does most of our new client acquisitions.”

  Juan didn’t seem to care. Casually, he drifted toward the open bar only a few steps away. Amber smiled at Liam warmly, engaging him in a discussion. Ryan half expected Mason to materialize out of nowhere. He couldn’t stop biting his lower lip.

  “It’s quite a lot to take in,” Liam said. “Best you go have a drink, courtesy of Mason Whitelock. Many people are going to want to meet you later, Ryan.”

  Ryan’s entire frame tensed upon hearing the name. On cue, images of the insanely attractive movie star flashed before his eyes. In each one of them, Mason was naked and beckoning to him.

  Amber placed a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “Ryan, I know that this must be an insane moment for you, but you’ve got to relax. You look like you’re about to explode.”

  “Relax, you say. How the fuck am I supposed to do that? Tell me, huh?” Ryan’s outburst invited a few curious looks from some of the other people standing nearby.

  Amber arched her eyebrows. “Okay, little brother. It’s time to calm down. Come with me.” Like always, she rolled right over his testy nature when he was nervous. “Two shots of Tequila please. Make that four.”

  Ryan chuckled.

  “That’s better,” Amber smiled at her brother. The barman plunked the shots on the bar in front of them.

  “To my amazing sister. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” Ryan raised his glass.

  Amber felt her chest burn. She loved her brother to bits. She could never be angry with him for longer than a few hours. “Thanks, bro.”

  “Do you mind if I join in?” Mason’s voice was husky, laced with a shred of humor.

  Ryan’s eyes snapped in his direction. “Mason,” he blurted as if he was surprised to see him in his own house.

  “It’s great to see you again, Ryan.” Mason’s hypnotic green eyes held Ryan’s in a vice.

  He knows my name. I can’t believe he remembered. The heat surged up, covering Ryan’s face with a red tinge.

  “No champagne this time?” Mason nodded at the barman who promptly did his employer’s bidding.

  “No, I needed something a little stronger this evening,” Ryan stuttered.

  “Really? Are you nervous about something?”

  Ryan didn’t know whether Mason had any idea that he was one of the artists displaying his work this evening. “A little, I guess.”

  “Why?” Mason took the flute of champagne the barman handed him. He nodded in the direction of Amber and Ryan, and the barman complied with two more drinks.

  “It’s all a bit overwhelming. I don’t know,” Ryan said.

  “Is my place that intimidating?” Mason looked around his living room that had been cleared of most of the furniture.

  “No, it’s not that… it’s because—”

  “Is this your girlfriend, Ryan?” A spark of disappointment streaked across Mason’s face.

  Ryan laughed far too hysterically, “Naw, she’s my—”

  “Sister,” answered Amber, who had finally found her tongue again after many tortuous moments stuck in the realms of hero-worship and carnal longing. “Ryan is my baby brother.”

  “Well, I’m very pleased to meet you…” Mason held out an elegant hand.

  “Just Amber.”

  “Sure, just Amber. Cheers.” The three of them laughed at the lame joke. It was enough to lighten the mood a little. After he clinked his flute with the others, Mason took a large sip of the champagne, then smacked his lips happily. “Nothing beats this. Right, Ryan?”

  “Ryan mentioned that you came around the boutique a while back,” Amber said, briefly breaking the spell that held the two men.

  Mason nodded. He grinned at Ryan. “Yeah, we met there. He and that other guy…”

  “Juan,” Ryan said.

  “Yeah, Juan. They helped me and my wife out with some great clothes.” Mason drained his glass. “Your brother has so much talent and great taste.”

  Amber tittered, “Tell me about it. He’s the reason we’re here.”

  Before Mason could probe further, Juan shot into their midst. “Oh my God, oh my God, Mason! I can’t believe it and yet I can. This is, like, your place and—” It took a few heartbeats of deep breathing for Juan to follow through. “Nice to see you again. I hope your wife likes her new clothes,” he said, in his best boutique eloquence.

  “Good to see you too, Juan.” Mason shook his hand. He scanned the walls in his mansion. “There’s some pretty good stuff here tonight. Would you guys like to walk with me and take a look?”

  “Sure, we’d love that, wouldn’t we, Ryan?” Amber interlinked her arm with Mason’s and shot Ryan a look. While she left her consternated brother and a slightly flustered Juan behind her, she asked Mason all kinds of questions about the artwork. “What do you think of this one, Mason?”

  Mason cleared his throat. “It’s one of my favorites, actually.”

  “Really… do you know the artist?”

  “Liam tells me it’s some young guy in whom he sees great potential. He should be here somewhere.” Mason looked around as if he expected the artist to appear before him like a sprite.

  “I see,” Amber grinned mischievously.

  Ten minutes later, Amber had discussed every one of her brother’s paintings with Mason. Occasionally, Juan tried to chime in with his knowledge. Neither of them mentioned that it was Ryan’s work. The latter, on the other hand, was happy exchanging looks with Mason who never once lost a chance to sneak a glance in his direction. The final picture, located in a cordoned-off area was concealed behind a cover.

  “This is apparently the pièce de résistance in the series we just passed,” Mason said. “Liam’s been going on about it all day.”

  Ryan gulped. He couldn’t believe the honor being accorded to him. He nervously scanned the room. He didn’t fail to notice the patrons of art being led towards him like sheep. Liam and his partner were the sheep dogs gathering the flock.

  Liam theatrically swung his arm toward the still covered painting on the wall. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the surprise of tonight’s event? This piece is from an unknown artist from the great city of Los Angeles. I came across his work by chance and was immediately taken in by it.” Liam pointed at the many other paintings in the room. “You have all seen his other work. Actually, you have done more than just see it. You’ve bought them all.”

  Laughter erupted. Even though Ryan was aware that nobody present knew that he was the artist, he blushed as red as a tomato.

  With continued histrionic swagger, Liam continued to tell everyone that the last piece on offer would not sell for a set price like the other pieces, but by auction. His words invited gasps of excitement from his audience. Liam continued his eloquent speech for a while. Not once did he lose the crowd.

  Ryan froze when Liam’s gaze rested on him. “First, the artist will say a few words about what inspired him—what drives him and how he finds the magic to create such beauty.” Liam had somehow entered the cordoned off area unnoticed. With no effort at all, he pulled on the cover, revealing the final painting of the collection.

  Silence fell over the large room. One could hear only the sound of shoes scuffing against the parquetry and the occasional cough. Mason was the first to take the initiative. He walked up to Ryan and took his hand in his. With a huge smile, he shook it vigorously.

  “It’s magnificent, Ryan,” he whispered into his ear before he pulled back. He had figured it out. The expression on his face told a thousand stories, each of which bore the same source. He was the only one present who knew what the depiction really meant, and the emotions it was
supposed to convey. The perfection of the abstractness harbored a little story for everyone present, but the main message was for Ryan and Mason alone.

  Liam lifted Ryan’s hand in the air. “A hearty applause for this man.” When the raucous acclaim finally died down, Liam bid Ryan to speak.

  It took a moment for Ryan to figure out what to say. He had thought about his speech a lot, but all his rehearsed words vanished into thin air. At last registering all the expectant people, he cleared his throat. “You do me great honor this evening and I thank you for it…”

  Ryan spent a moment watching the room. He wanted to tell the real importance of his work to everyone present, but he couldn’t. In his heart, he knew what he wanted to say. However, his voice and brain were unwilling accomplices.

  “With this series of paintings, I tried to portray the cycle of life through the eyes of man and woman. They tell a story of lust, desire, dreams, and the unbending constraints society places upon every one of us. As you can see, all of my work shows women in various positions. They are all naked to show our complete weakness in the face of life.”

  While Ryan continued to speak, he turned to look at last painting. For him, the abstract illustration displayed a man in the throes of orgasm. Not just any man, but a man who could be either he or Mason. His face turned away from the women on the other canvases. The figure held up his hand in a display of the denial he felt when confronted with female sexuality. He looked into the distance in search of something. For Ryan, he sought out a man to love. Yet his words told the gathered people a different story.

  Ryan pointed at the painting closest to the one of the man, which showed a woman who could be in pain, or could also be in the throes of orgasm. “This final picture in the series shows the source of life. If you look at the other portraits of the women in various emotional states, you’ll see that all human life is birthed inside the man and not the woman. In the Bible, it was Adam who created Eve because he was lonely. God wanted man to seek out pleasure in the arms of a woman. He punished women for their duplicity in seducing Adam from the path of righteousness when she picked the apple off the tree. Women were condemned to eternal punishment when they gave birth.”