Painted Moon

by Karin Kallmaker

"I've been trying to reach you for days! All you had to do was call. I don't care if you do have some new lover, this was really irresponsible of you —"

  "I don't have a new lover. What gave you that —"

  "I never let my feelings interfere with business, and it's really—"

  "Will you stop for a minute," Leah demanded. "If we're going to yell at each other, we can at least do it in the house." She turned and led the way into the house, not waiting to see if Constance would follow. Her cheeks burned and she hoped none of her neighbors had been watching.

  Constance's heels echoed in the hallway as she followed Leah to the kitchen. Leah offered Constance coffee and received a stony look in reply.

  "I'm sorry, I should have called. I was working and without Sharla to keep me on a schedule I forgot about everything, including eating. You could have said why you were calling, you know." She wouldn't tell Constance she'd only just listened to the machine.

  Constance stared at her shoes, two-toned leather heels that made her calves look even longer and more shapely. Leah wondered why she couldn't accept the passing pleasure Constance had offered.

  "I'm very sorry," she said again.

  "Where is she?" Constance raised her head and stared unhappily across the kitchen at Leah.

  "I have no idea. I'm not seeing her."

  "I would have sworn she... well. I should have left a better message, I guess," Constance admitted. "I was going to drive over here a couple of days ago... I was jealous. And envious. I know I didn't offer you forever, but I wanted more than a day."

  "I sorry I can't give you more."

  There was a heavy silence, then Constance shook herself. "You were working? I hope you're going to tell me that the Painted Moon is done."

  "They were done just a few days after you were here last. I've been working on something new for the last —" She glanced at the calendar — "good God, month. I'd like to add them to the show, but hung in a different area. They'll show everyone I really am back."

  "I'll have to see them," Constance said. She smiled more like the Constance Leah knew best. "I'd love to see them."

  Leah made a piffing sound and led the way to her workshop.

  The canvases were arranged in a circle, gleaming from the still drying sealer. She stood aside and let Constance into their circle and waited for her reaction. They felt right to her, but Constance's opinion meant a lot.

  Constance turned slowly. When she came to the last painting, the only one that was obviously Jackie, her fists clenched. She turned the full circle once more and then looked at Leah with a burning gaze.

  "They are beautiful. like nothing you've done before," she said huskily. Then, vehemently, she said, "But I won't exhibit any of them. I advise you with all my heart and experience, never to show any of them publicly. Ever."

  Leah's jaw dropped. "What? What do you mean?"

  Constance blinked and shook her head slightly. "You really don't know, do you? You don't see it."

  "See what? They're nudes. I won't show that one," Leah said, pointing at the one that featured Jackie's face. "But the others are—"

  "Lesbian. They're lesbian."

  "You're going to have to explain that," Leah said. "Everyone knows I'm a lesbian."

  "Yes, but you've never put it in your work before."

  "Who and what I am is in everything I do." Leah's voice rose.

  "It was never explicit before. These are nudes, these are paintings by a woman in love with another woman." Constance's voice rose to match Leah's.

  "You make that sound dirty. I've never hidden it. I won't start now."

  "I can't show them. I don't want my gallery labeled and I won't let you be labeled either."

  "But everyone knows!" Leah was almost shouting now.

  "Being labeled in the art world is degrading. You know that as well as I do! A 'woman' artist, a 'black' artist, a 'homeless' artist — all less than just plain Artist. That's the way it is. The way it has always been."

  "I can't believe this is you talking. You've exhibited the most daring artists in the country."

  "But never in a ghetto context. If I let you show even one of these you won't be Lee Beck, American Artist, but Lee Beck, Lesbian Artist. No matter what you do after that, 'lesbian' will always be in the description."

  Leah jabbed her finger at Constance. "Do you have any idea how homophobic you sound?"

  "I'm a realist. Art should transcend labels—"

  "What about illuminating labels?"

  "Do you want to be another Mapplethorpe?"

  "I would be in fine company if I were. And there's nothing explicit in these paintings. If you see explicit lesbian content, that's your eyes putting it there."

  Constance drew in an angry breath. "Everyone's eyes will put it there. As you said, everyone knows you're a lesbian. If you weren't, these might pass as explorations of the female form, but since you are, they're —"

  "An exploration of the female form —"

  "A glorification of female love." Constance stamped her foot. "You just don't get it. You're going to lose your standing as a leader in American arts."

  "You're just afraid the gallery will lose its standing. You just don't want your walls sullied with lesbian work. Only your sheets."

  Constance was trembling with anger. "I have promoted dozens of gay men and lesbians in my gallery, like you."

  "Don't wave your credentials at me! Obviously, you promoted the ones who were content to remain invisible." She gestured at the paintings. "I think this is the best work I've ever done. Are you telling me you won't exhibit it?"

  Constance took a deep breath, obviously fighting for control. "Can't we argue about this after the opening of Painted Moon?"

  "No," Leah said stubbornly. "I want this series exhibited. It's called Fes. It's important to me."

  Constance bit her lower lip and clenched and unclenched her fists. "Why are you making me do this?"

  "Maybe it's time for us both to renounce being invisible. To not run from the label, but to use it and not let anyone make it an insult."

  "You can be so incredibly naive."

  Leah stared at Constance's unyielding expression. Until now, she had trusted Constance's judgment without question. Abruptly her anger dissolved. She looked at the paintings again and realized how Constance saw them. How most people would see them.

  Sensuous, even erotic. Not exploring the female form, but worshipping it. Painted by a woman in love, in lust, in the heat of passion for another woman. Desire and longing mingled with intimate understanding of the texture and heat of the female body. Would anyone but another woman know that the small of a woman's back is slightly darker, slightly hotter than her shoulders? That her hips are cooler, her thighs smoother?

  Leah sighed and felt exhausted. "You're right. I wouldn't have been prepared for the fallout." Starting over on her reputation was untenable — she couldn't be a beginner again.

  "You're finally talking sense."

  "Let me think about it," Leah said slowly. "I need to think it through."

  "You will install Painted Moon before the photographer gets there, right?"

  Leah nodded.

  Constance left the circle of the paintings and stood next to Leah. "I'm sorry I got upset. Maybe that's a tribute to your work. They would stir people up. I didn't know — I didn't know I felt that strongly."

  "I don't know how I feel." She looked forlornly at the paintings. "I thought I'd already come out."

  Constance patted Leah's cheek. "Why don't I meet you at the gallery tomorrow at one?"

  Leah nodded. "Can you see yourself out?"

  "Sure."

  She listened to the sound of the T-bird's engine, then sat down on the floor and looked at her work. The daylight faded and she got stiffly to her feet. She covered the canvases and went to the dark house wishing that Sharla were there to tell her what to do. She longed to call Jackie, but what was left of her courage failed her completely.

  "You've sunk
to a new low," Jackie told herself. "You should have made a date. It's just because you've got nothing to do on a Saturday night that you want to call her." There had been a month of Saturday nights with nothing to do. When she didn't make an effort to go out and keep herself diverted, she sat around and thought about Leah. She had grown to loathe her apartment's tiny kitchen and dark light. Thank God for her job—the work was absorbing and rewarding. But at night she brooded.

  If she didn't do something tonight, she'd lose her self-respect. She remembered how she had accused Leah of being obsessed with Sharla, but now she understood a little more about obsession and love. Leah had rejected her, but it didn't make her stop hoping. She had to try one more time.

  Examine your motives, she told herself. Your mother arrives at the end of next week and could it be you want to be able to introduce her to Leah the artist and Leah your lover? Pipe dreams. Why couldn't she be content to show her mother the first set of drawings she'd done on her own for a client assigned to her? Drawings Angela herself had admired.

  Do it or shut up, she told herself.

  Her finger trembled on the buttons. She took two rapid, deep breaths and listened to the ring. The phone was answered with a click and the familiar sound of a taped greeting.

  She gathered her composure and waited for the beep. "Hi, Leah, this is Jackie. Um, Jackie Frakes. I hope you remem — of course you do. I was just calling, um..." She berated herself for sounding like an idiot. "I was calling because..."

  The receiver was suddenly lifted. "I'm here."

  Jackie swallowed and couldn't find her voice.

  "Are you there?"

  "Yes. I, well, I've been thinking and I... the way we parted. I think we need to talk about it. At least I need to."

  There was a long silence. Then Leah said, "I think so too. Would you like to come to my place?"

  "I'd love to," Jackie said. "Are you busy now... I'm so, there's no particular urgency except I... well. I'd like to clear things up."

  "Tonight would be great." Leah told her how to find the house and Jackie hung up after offering to bring something for dinner and scribbling down Leah's directions to a Thai take-out not far from her home.

  She changed into something comfortable and realized as she walked to her car that she had chosen clothes that flattered her figure and came off easily. She sat for a moment in the car and came to a decision. She would seduce Leah if she could. She would take her to bed and do everything she could to make Leah want her to stay there. She knew she was competing with Sharla's memory. If she had even the remotest chance of meaning something to Leah, then she wanted to seize it. She could handle being second best in Leah Beck's eyes.

  She hoped she looked more self-confident than she felt. Some of her tension eased as she listened to Butch barking hysterically and Leah's scolding as Leah opened the door. Leah took the bag of take out and Butch danced around Jackie. Jackie found herself on the floor fending off Butch's slobbery, happy hellos. She could wish Leah would show her this much affection, she thought.

  Butch finally let her up and followed Jackie to the kitchen.

  Leah smiled and pointed at the sink. "There's soap."

  Jackie laughed and washed her face. "I guess Butch missed me," she said as she dried herself.

  "Butch isn't the only one," Leah said quietly.

  Jackie's heart leapt as she met Leah's gaze. She trembled, aware that her passion hadn't dimmed. She didn't feel as helpless as she had at the art gallery, as reliant on Leah's direction. But she wanted Leah in the same deep, needful way. In a way that excluded wanting Ina or any other woman. "That's good to know," she said and tried to let her eyes talk for her.

  Leah look away and fetched plates and cutlery. They shared pad thai noodles and chicken satay over jasmine rice at the counter in Leah's spacious kitchen. They ate quickly and talked little. Jackie would have asked for a tour of the house to see if it matched the Shaker style of the kitchen, but she wanted to move onto more important things. She could see the house anytime. And she had every intention of seeing the bedroom before the night was out.

  Leah had already made coffee and they went into the backyard to enjoy the mild evening.

  Jackie loved the garden, though it needed some attention. A high fence and two beautiful oaks gave it an enclosed feeling. Jackie realized the garden gave way to a steep slope. A retaining wall would slow down erosion if sink posts could be stabilized. A building too oddly shaped for a garage stood to one side. "What's that?"

  "My workshop," Leah said, waving a hand at the small detached building. Jackie followed Leah through the garden to the small gazebo.

  "Are you working on anything?"

  "I just finished. I don't know when — if—it'll be exhibited." She didn't elaborate. "I spent this afternoon hauling the Painted Moon series to a gallery in San Francisco. It goes on exhibit this Friday night. I have to finish the installation before tomorrow at two. For a photographer." She sat down on the bench and Jackie hesitated a moment, then straddled the bench so she could look at Leah.

  "That was fast," Jackie said.

  "It was an unexpected opening. You met the owner, Constance... the woman at the gallery when we were leaving."

  "Oh," Jackie said. She hoped the darkness hid her blush. "I wasn't exactly at my best."

  "I wouldn't say that," Leah said, almost reluctantly, with a hint of teasing in her voice.

  Jackie's face burned. "Leah, I..."

  "It's okay," Leah said quickly. "You don't have to say anything."

  "Okay, I won't," Jackie said. She set her coffee cup down on the railing. Leah looked at her in surprise as she took Leah's cup out of her hand and set it on the railing as well.

  Jackie took a deep breath and tried to find her courage. Her voice was a whisper. "Let me show you, then."

  A light breeze shifted the oaks and the moonlight flickered across Leah's face. Jackie trembled, aware that she had never done anything like this before, but knowing that the content and form of her entire future rested on her ability to convey how she felt. She had to make Leah understand.

  She slowly lifted the hem of her sweater and pulled it up over her head. Her bra unhooked in the front and she unsnapped it, exposing herself in the moonlight.

  "Jackie..." Leah swallowed convulsively. 'You don't —"

  Jackie put her fingers across Leah's lips. "I do." She slid off the bench to her knees. She stared up at Leah and said intensely, "Let me show you."

  Leah's legs opened and Jackie slipped between them, pressing her naked breasts to Leah's waist. This time she mastered the buttons of Leah's shirt without fumbling and her tongue moistened a path across the plain of Leah's chest and flicked at each hardening tip.

  She felt Leah's hands come to her breasts and caress the soft sides. Encouraged, she continued her slow adoration of Leah's body, exploring her ribs and stomach with her tongue and kissing her way to the waist of Leah's jeans. She felt at peace with herself and in tune with Leah's body.

  She could sense the gradual increase in Leah's skin temperature and simultaneously feel the prickle of gooseflesh along Leah's back as the cool night air whispered across it. She could hear the tiniest changes in Leah's breathing, sounds that could have been the beginnings of moans. In the moonlight she could see the light and dark of Leah's breasts and her mouth sought the dark tips with more pressure in response to the quiver that rippled through Leah's body.

  She pressed her palm to the seam of Leah's jeans and felt Leah's hips rise in response, meeting the warmth of her hand. She smiled to herself, content to know that if nothing else, she aroused Leah. She drew Leah's head down for a lingering kiss, finishing with the brush of her tongue on the corner of Leah's mouth. Leah's hips surged against Jackie's palm.

  Jackie stood up and offered her bare breasts to Leah's mouth. On impulse, Jackie undid the band at the bottom of her braid and worked her fingers through it while Leah's mouth made love to her breasts. She let her hair fall around Leah's head and shou
lders.

  Leah groaned and raised her head, then pulled Jackie onto her lap, burying her face in Jackie's abundance of hair. Leah kissed it and with hungry urgency returned to Jackie's breasts.

  Jackie reluctantly stood up. "Show me your bed," she said softly.

  Leah looked up at her as if Jackie had asked to be shown to the moon. Leah's gaze fell to Jackie's breasts again, and she leaned forward to kiss them again.

  "Let's go to bed, Leah," Jackie said, moving away. She took Leah's hands and drew her to her feet.

  Leah swayed and didn't move at first, then she led Jackie back through the garden and into the house. She tore the covers back from the bed and feverishly shoved the soft leggings Jackie wore down until Jackie could kick them completely off. She pushed Jackie down on the bed and knelt, her mouth returning to Jackie's breasts.

  Jackie shuddered with pleasure, thrilling to the rough texture of Leah's jeans against her thighs. Leah abandoned Jackie's breasts and knelt between Jackie's legs, sank her mouth into Jackie with a deep groan.

  Jackie twisted her hips up and she felt a frighteningly powerful contraction which gave way to the first trembling waves of climax. She hadn't meant to... she clutched Leah's head, held it to her and didn't fight the rising tide. She let her pleas tumble out of her throat and rode the crest of her passion, simultaneously wishing to stay in this moment of ecstasy forever and pushing it aside to pull Leah into her arms, kissing her deeply, tasting herself in Leah's mouth, on Leah's face. She unbuttoned and unzipped Leah's jeans and slid her hand inward and downward.

  Her body was vibrating like a plucked string. Through her quivering fingertips she felt Leah's throbbing wetness and rewarded her with the teasing strokes she liked. Surely Leah could tell that Jackie loved her, loved doing this to her.

  Leah responded by lifting her hips, giving Jackie room. "Please. Jackie, please."

  She could feel each grip of Leah's muscles. Leah sighed with pleasure and Jackie intended to go as slowly as possible. She tried to remain true to her intentions, but her mouth thirsted for Leah and, unable to help herself, she let her tongue seek out the delicious flesh. Leah groaned and pulled Jackie's hair up over her stomach.