by Cynthia Dane
“Do you remember what I do for a living? I’m not in my early 20s anymore. I have to watch the carbs, sodium, and sugar. The chefs at the Château are good, but… I get tired of lean protein and whole grain brown rice all the time.”
“Vegetables are okay, though?”
“Vegetables are totally okay.”
Seth set the table with red china dishware and long tapers. After lighting all three, he dug through his small but extravagant wine collection and pulled out the first red he saw. Judith whistled to see the make and vintage.
“Good tastes, Dr. Christens.”
He winked at her. “I’m with you, aren’t I?”
She brought the salad and bread over to the table. “I see your point, and it’s a good one.”
It took all the discipline he learned in med school to not kiss her right there. Plenty of time. After dinner. I’m going to explode. Preferably all over the bedroom, but he was fine with the living room couch too. Been a long time since he was on top of a woman on the couch…
The first thing Judith said after their meal started was, “I didn’t know you cooked, let alone this well.” She drank his expensive wine for effect.
“I’m not a chef by any means, but I like to cook for myself when I can. Simple things. I saw too much horror in med school. The things people put into their bodies…” Said the guy who would eat a whole box of Ho-Hos without thinking. Every artist had his crutch when he was on a tear in the studio. Chocolatey, creamy supermarket donuts were his. (He often regretted it later.)
“You talk about being a doctor a lot, but you always sound so… I dunno what word to use. Not bitter. Not angry. So unimpressed.”
“Suppose you could say that. I never really wanted to be a doctor. It was a family thing.”
“I’ve heard that. Lawyers, too.” Judith spoke without thinking. “There’s a lot of pressure to fall in line with the family trade, right?”
“Right. It’s different from being born into a business-oriented family, because you don’t necessarily have to go to school for that. You can be trained and then take over when it’s time.” He thought of Zack when he said that, not that Zack was going to join his family’s company anytime soon. He was the youngest of three boys. “Being a doctor or a lawyer requires a lot of studying and training… in an academic field. You need to be licensed. You need to apprentice for a long time. I had to do residency, which I don’t think lawyers have to do. I was trained for that kind of life since I was born. It’s what my father wanted.”
“You didn’t hate it, right?”
“Not really. It wasn’t what I was meant to do with my life. I had realized my passion for drawing and painting in high school. I had to take a creative arts class as a requirement, and it was either painting or writing. They had metal and wood sculpting too. I think most high schools call that shop class.”
“Music didn’t count?”
“No, because it was a separate requirement.” Seth continued with the original topic. “Anyway, I picked art because I always liked going to museums and appreciating my father’s humble print collection. But it wasn’t until I had to actually do it myself that I discovered my real passion in life. I spent every spare moment – which wasn’t many – honing my craft and looking for more still-life projects. I loved interpreting the real world to canvas. I don’t care if it’s an object, a scene, or a person. I want to convey them all in my own way. It’s the way I see the world, and I guess some people appreciate that.”
Judith twirled noodles on her fork. “I’m guessing your father was not impressed.”
“He ignored it until I retired from the med field. He didn’t care what I did in my spare time. My parents didn’t hate the arts. They didn’t want me doing it.”
“I see.”
“We’ve been a bit estranged these past few years. Nothing family-breaking, but we don’t talk much. The funeral was the first time I talked to them since Christmas.”
“When you become a world famous artist with my image, they’ll understand.”
Seth almost snorted his wine. “I hope to God they never see that!” His super conservative father and dainty mother would collapse on the train tracks to discover what their son really painted.
“If they give you shit, tell them that you’ve seen plenty of vagina delivering babies. It was sort of your thing for a while. You even went to med school to do it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Was this the time to tell her that his father was a proctologist? “I guess in a way I am the sexuality doctor of the family. Wow. Almost makes me sound like a psychiatrist.”
“Dr. Christens,” Judith said with a fake and airy Southern accent. “Would you mind taking a look at my cootie-coo?” She fanned herself with her napkin. “I need to make sure it’s ready for the babies!”
So much for not snorting his wine.
Judith helped him clean up and do the dishes. She admitted she hadn’t done any dishes since moving to the Château, and found the whole thing quaint. Sure. That was the word Seth would use. He had grown up with servants in his family home, but since moving out on his own, he had a once a week cleaner and that was it. He preferred to take care of his space by himself. Minus the bathroom, anyway.
Some days he would rather leave the dishes for the housekeeper, but with Judith spinning around his kitchen, running china beneath the faucet and loading glasses into the dishwasher, he didn’t mind doing the big chore tonight.
“Thanks for the help,” Seth said, leaning against the counter and drying his hands on a soft towel. He glanced at the clock. Was it eight already? Soon he would be taking her back home to the Château, and this dreamy date would be over. “What should we do now?”
Judith yanked the towel from his hands, and with a sultry look to blow up the ages, she hooked her fingers around his zipper and dropped to her knees – but not before giving him a quick kiss to the cheek.
I should have guessed.
Chapter 21
JUDITH
Judith emerged from the bathroom and popped a mint into her mouth. Never leave home without my mints. Never exist without my mints. How many had she consumed over the years? At least a million. Now she sucked on her favorite one – like she had sucked on Seth ten minutes ago.
He sat in the living room, still in a daze after the hummer she gave him. Couldn’t help myself. Had to be done. The guy had been screaming for sex all day. As a perfect gentleman, however, he hadn’t asked for it out in public. Far cry from a lot of the clients Judith went out with throughout her career. Most of them got off on public thrills.
So when Seth went that long without jumping her, it only seemed right that she…
Okay, okay. I panicked. I didn’t know what else to do. How do I hang out with a guy all day and not at least suck his cock? This job was doing a number on her ability to have a relationship. Seth had been kind to her all day. Did she think she owed him? Or was she so taken in by him that she had to do something sexual? Maybe she was giving him an orgasm so their night could go on longer. Shit, was she really so fucked up in that regard?
“Feeling better now?” Judith sat next to him on his couch and patted his knee. There wasn’t a sign of an erection in his pants. I killed it. Real good. Even after rinsing out her mouth and popping in the mint, she could still taste his musk and seed on her tongue.
“Didn’t realize I wasn’t feeling okay earlier.”
“But you feel better, right?” Judith patted his knee even harder. “Now, are you going to show me those pictures or not?”
Sighing dramatically, Seth got up, taking her hand in his. “First, more wine.”
“Yes. We need more wine.” She didn’t mention how delicious it had been. So smooth! So silky! Fuck. No wonder I felt compelled to blow him. Only way to follow up that kind of drink was with a velvety cock chaser. Apparently.
Seth got them clean glasses and poured the last of the bottle into both. To the soothing hum of the dishwasher in the background, he cam
e back to the couch and motioned for her to join him over by the one closed door.
“You’re one of the lucky few to ever be allowed in here.” He put his hand on the knob and gave it a sturdy turn. “Voila. My studio.”
The door swung open. Whatever Judith was expecting, it was not this.
How to describe it? When she thought of a studio, she thought of messy paints, tarps and sheets everywhere, and perhaps the fumes of the working artist. Maybe fumes of something else. Ahem.
Then there was comparing whatever she expected to the rest of Seth’s house. From the moment she saw it, she knew it screamed Seth Christens. Older, traditional, classic. Brick homes were hard to come by these days, but somehow he had managed to secure one years ago. He had called it a townhouse. Sure, perhaps in another life. It looked like two townhouses combined, for Judith was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to be this spacious and loft-like. Yet it suited a man like him. Not soft, but also not rigid. Quiet, but not a pushover. The more Judith was allowed into his personal life, the more she saw a man who clearly knew what he wanted in life and would do anything to get it… whether he realized that about himself or not.
His studio encapsulated these images. The general décor and style of the house continued, with its brick walls and large, friendly windows, but the contents were quite different. Easels were arranged in a simple fashion around the large room (was this originally the master bedroom or something?) with paintings covered in protective sheets. Little handwritten plaques were pinned to the sheets. “Gone On A Wednesday.” “Waiting For The Evening.” “Lazy Garden Day.” The sizes ranged from small like the one in Judith’s room, to big enough to hang above a fireplace. I would love to see that.
There were no fumes. Paints were properly put away or left to soak in a large industrial sink. Books on painting and albums full of photographs lined one wall while another was covered in neatly organized calendars, complete with self-imposed deadlines. Seth was one of the most orderly men Judith had ever met, and he didn’t even have an assistant!
“Sorry about the mess,” he said, picking up a stack of magazines and moving them to the bookshelf. Yeah, total pig-sty. Judith rolled her eyes and drank her wine. “I want to show you this one first.”
His hand slightly shook as he took the edge of the sheet. Was he nervous? About what? Showing her his work? Not like she hadn’t seen the painting he gave her or any of the sketches since then. My favorite is one of this woman and her dog at the park. When Seth found out that Judith appreciated his “discarded” doodles, he started bringing them to her. They were currently stacked on her dresser, but eventually she would get an album for them.
The sheet came down. Judith nearly dropped her wineglass.
There she was, sitting on the edge of her bed, coyly looking at the viewer with a sheer black robe draped across her body – nothing was left to the imagination, though. Her breasts, pink nipples included, were subtly prominent, and her legs parted enough to show off her strawberry blond hairs. I remember posing for this. One month ago, Seth had posed her like this in her room when the sun was at its best. I spent the whole time waiting for him to finish up and fuck me. She could see it. Was it because she knew it was there in her eyes? Or had Seth actually managed to capture that and the whole world would be able to see it?
She swallowed. There was nothing vulgar about the painting – or any of the other ones he showed her – but they reminded Judith of how vulnerable she was deep inside.
“So… what do you think?” Seth stood in front of three paintings, although more were covered in the back. “I’m using way softer colors than I usually do. They’re pretty bright, too. I wanted to make sure I captured how much you glow every time I see you.”
“They’re…” Judith had to wash more wine down her throat. Everything was drying out. “That’s me, huh?”
He put a reassuring hand on her back. “You don’t like them. I’m sorry… have I embarrassed you?”
“What? No way. You’d have to do way worse than paint beautiful portraits of me.” Judith King was not easily embarrassed. If she could be caught fucking a client at a Roman ball three years ago, she could handle being painted naked.
“You think they’re beautiful?”
“Yes! Oh my God, Seth.” Judith had to turn away from her own image before she gasped on the last of her wine. “I knew you were talented, but… I don’t know what else to say. I’m afraid anything I say will sound either really narcissistic or flippant. So let me say that I’m amazed. That’s all.”
His nose rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m glad you think so. I’ve spent a lot of time on them. Even more time than I’ve spent with you.”
“Do you fuck your paintings, though?”
“Can’t say I have. I’m not into using raw and scavenged materials.”
Judith looked back at the paintings, each one more elaborate than the last. Whether she was surrounded by the reds and browns of her room, or out in the green nature of the garden, she had the same flowing blond hair and pale skin. Sometimes her clothes changed colors as well… if she was wearing any to begin with. However, there was one major discrepancy between portraits.
“Why are my eyes different colors in all of them?” In one of them they were green. In another they were brown. In one more they were amber.
“Because your real eyes are hazel. They change colors based on the light.” Seth rested his hand on her hip. “You never noticed?”
“Not really. Wow, you must really be an artist to notice that, even when you’re drooling over me and thinking about where to stick your cock.”
“Whether you believe it or not, I do stare at things other than your breasts.”
“If you say so.” She flashed him a smile – and her cleavage.
“Now, now…” He took her empty wineglass and added it to his on a table. “There’s plenty of time for that later.”
He led her out of the studio, turning off the light and closing the door behind him. Judith assumed they would be going to his room, regardless of what he said, but was taken to the center of the living room. She stood in her sandals upon a sea of rich hardwoods that didn’t even creak when she shifted weight. How much had Seth spent to restore this old home? Or had he bought it already restored? On one hand he doesn’t like spending money… but on the other, this place is so him I can’t believe he didn’t have any say in it.
Seth stood in front of a stereo. The man had millions upon millions of dollars sitting somewhere in his bank accounts – Judith knew, because Monica had done her usual digging into patrons’ financial backgrounds and shared the knowledge – but still had a stereo he had to manually load with CDs. The only other person Judith knew with a sizable CD collection was Grace, who was addicted to female singer-songwriters and 90’s dance music.
As if it read her mind, the stereo spat out the awe-inspiring sounds of an early ‘90’s song. “You’re kidding, right?” Judith crossed her arms as she was whisked away to elementary school, when one of her teachers used to play this song during their morning exercises. “The Cranberries?”
Seth turned, mischief tugging at the corners of his mouth. “What can I say? I’m a disgusting byproduct of the ‘90s. You should see my pog collection.”
“Pogs?” She thought he was older than that!
“Pogs, and at one point I was the class hackey-sack champion. Should’ve played team soccer thanks to those skills, but I picked rowing instead.” He extended his hand to Judith.
She stared at it, curious. “You want to dance? I didn’t take you for a dancer.”
“Heaven forbid I didn’t find ways to surprise you.”
She tentatively took his hand. “All right. I’ll go to senior prom with you, Dr. Christens.”
He pulled her into his embrace, already swaying her back and forth. Typical dancing. If he wanted to impress her, he would have to do better than that. Judith had “dated” ballroom champions before. Besides, “Dreams” wasn’t exactly a slow dan
ce song.
As she wondered if he even knew how to foxtrot, Seth twirled her, so fast that the world became too blurry to exist in. Her sudden, surprised laughter echoed in her head.
Seth may not have been a ballroom champion in his own right, but he knew how to dance. Or at least he was good enough at dancing to make her think he was the best partner she’d had in ages. Who did I even go to the prom with? That felt like so long ago.
They danced for most of the song. When Seth wasn’t trying to dip or twirl her, Judith was stumbling in her sandals and clinging to him as if she were about to splat across the hardwoods. Was it the laughter shaking her body? Or the two left feet she didn’t know she had? Seth was laughing too, more than she had ever seen before. He should laugh more often. Such a serious man. Such a sweet, caring, serious man…
He yanked her back into his arms, holding her tightly, kissing her face all over. When his lips lingered on her throat, he mumbled, “I never want to let you go.”
Perhaps it was the ethereal soft-rock music ringing in her ears. Perhaps it was the heat of his body traveling to hers. Whatever it was, Judith melted against him, her own lips searching for his ear, his shoulder, anything they could touch in that strange position.
“So don’t let me go,” she whispered, before turning in his arms.
They swayed back and forth to the final notes of the song, Seth’s hands folding on her stomach and chin resting on her shoulder. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
The stereo played a different song that Judith didn’t recognize. As it disappeared into the background, she said, “You’re always a surprise, Seth. I used to think you were some stuffy guy. Now I know you’re just a guy.”
“Just a guy?” Laughter bit his words. “That’s like saying you’re just a girl.”
“Why can’t we just be a girl and a guy? Why does it have to be more complicated than that?”
His hands moved up her body, grazing her breasts and tickling her cheek. “I’ve had more fun with you in the few weeks I’ve known you than with every other woman in my life put together. To me, you could never be ‘just a girl.’”
