by Sable Hunter
“Yes, Nanette. Nudes. Erotic nudes,” Angelique, a beautiful woman of Creole descent explained.
“Huh! What does Evangeline know about nude men? I don’t think she has been on more than a half dozen dates in the past four years. And if she had slept with any of them - believe me - I think I would have known!”
“How would you know?” Angelique wasn’t being disrespectful or condescending. She knew Nanette was very powerful - and she didn’t doubt her - but she wanted to understand.
“I can feel when they’re happy. Like now, Elizabeth and Arabella are content and their feelings of joy and fulfillment call out to me over the miles. But Evangeline is searching. She hasn’t connected to anyone, intimately. Not in real life, anyway.”
“What are you saying, are we having another dream romance like we had between Arabella and Jade?”
“Maybe, but I don’t think it’s exactly the same. Evangeline has cast out the net, so to speak. She told me she scryed for her lover’s image and if I’m not mistaken - those nudes you’re talking about are of him. I just didn’t know they’d be naked!”
“Nudes are usually naked, Nanette,” Angelique observed, dryly.
“Well, this should be interesting. In fact - I think one of those statues just might come to life tonight.”
“How do you know?”
“How do I know anything?”
“Touché.”
“I want my baby to be happy. And a woman is never truly happy unless she has a man.”
“That’s not necessarily true. I’ve known many women…
“You know what I mean. I’m not too old to have forgotten what a man’s hands felt like on my body. And you! You are getting plenty of action now, yourself! And don’t tell me it doesn’t make all the difference in the world.”
Angelique smiled, but did not comment. Life with Philipe was tremendously exciting and she had their Christmas adventure at Wildflower Way to thank for that. This conversation was proving to be a bit - over-simulative. Time to cut it short. “We’ll be in Austin in about an hour and a half.”
Evangeline greeted her grandmother and Angelique warmly. Getting them settled in the house was a pleasure. “This is a great place, Evangeline.” At the beginning, Nanette had been opposed to Evangeline transferring to UT from Tulane. But finally she had given in. Now seeing how Evangeline had coped, and the success she had found with her sculpting, Nanette was glad she had not been selfish.
“Angelique, keep your eyes open. I really want to understand what is going on with my mom’s voice and the music.”
“I will. Don’t you worry about a thing. We have come to take care of you.” She knew that would make Evangeline feel better, instantly.
“That’s right. You just go put on some lipstick, and some perfume. I have a feeling tonight is going to be one that you will remember forever.” Nanette sat down in one of the armchairs, already tired before the festivities could even get started. But she was determined to be there for her granddaughter. “Now, what is the dress code for the evening?”
* * * *
Austin had turned out for the soiree of the fall season. The Newman Sculpture Museum was awash in tiny, white, twinkling lights and the guests were attired in what was called Texas Black Tie - denim, diamonds, boots and anything goes. The party flowed both inside and outside. The gardens were a sight to behold - bridges over lily ponds and gazebos with cozy benches, all surrounded by lush gardens where around every turn was a beautiful piece of sculpture. Newman Sculpture Gardens was the premier spot for a budding artist to be allowed to display their work.
And there were many wonderful pieces of sculpture on display, but the two erotic nudes that had emerged from the talented hands of the mysterious Evangeline Martel were attracting undue attention. Women were circling the pieces, whispering and coming close enough to steal a quick touch of the life-like sculptures. Some of them were smiling and some of them were staring, but all were entranced - both men and women alike. None more than two of Austin’s finest firefighters, Buck Wilson and Sean Scott. “Sean, it’s not like I stare at him in the locker room, or anything - but there is no doubt in my mind - this is Eric McAllister. What in the hell is going on? Has the chief seen this?” Buck wanted to laugh, but actually, he was a little jealous. He would give his eye-teeth and an arm to be hung like that.
Sean chuckled. “Buck, Eric has some explaining to do! You heard the talk! Jessica is two-timing him. But, what can he say, now? Somebody has sure seen him naked, besides Jessica. I wonder where the artist is that nailed him to the wall?”
“What are you talking about, it looks like he nailed her. How else would she know what he looks like, I mean - shit! We‘d better go outside, see if we can head him off and give him a head’s up about this mess.”
* * * *
Too late. Eric had arrived and neither Buck nor Sean got a chance to warn him. He and Jessica had argued the whole way over from her apartment. Just as soon as this night was over, so were they. But she had begged him to be civil, at least until she get her picture in the paper with him. Jessica loved making the social page. As soon as they walked through the door, Jessica headed for the ladies room for one last look at herself before she faced the crowd. Eric didn’t need to inspect his looks; he knew he had circles under his eyes and he needed a hair-cut. He also knew he had balked on the dress code. But he was dressed up, for Eric. A tuxedo was not his style, but he had on black denim dress pants, a black form fitting shirt, black boots and a black tie. His longish, curly blond hair stood out in stark contrast to his golden brown skin, dark green eyes and all of that tight black material stretched over his body like a second skin. Eric was comfortable.
His eyes scanned the crowd, the ladies were acting funny. And they were all looking at him. It looked like it wouldn’t take much for some of them to actually drool. And even scarier, some of them were flushed, looking at him as if he were the last hot dog at the Fourth of July picnic. He enjoyed the attention of women, but this was ridiculous. Maybe they had gotten a copy of that silly calendar. Mr. July! Just as he was about to enter the main ballroom, Rex Hawthorne an old buddy of his; passed by with his wife Tammy.
“Been modeling long, Eric?” Rex asked him with a shit-eating grin on his face. Tammy’s eyes raked him up and down and when Rex realized what his wife was doing, he quickly pulled her in the opposite direction.
That damn calendar would be the death of him.
Eric moved on, hating the fact his friends were talking about him and every woman in sight was giving him all kinds of intense and hungry looks. He knew he had said he wanted this kind of attention - but he wanted it from only one woman - not hundreds. Had somebody put that new women’s Viagra in the punchbowl? Rex needed to go home and satisfy his wife. Seeing Jessica returning to him, he cut Rex some slack. Who was he to talk?
They entered the ornate main showroom, jam-packed with people holding martini’s and eating little nothing sandwiches that were probably made of cucumber slices and bean sprouts. Everyone seemed to be congregated at one end of the room - all looking at something that seemed to be the center of attention. “Eric, please - at least smile. Everyone is looking at us. I told you, I was sorry.” Eric ignored her.
When the people realized it was Eric McAllister making his way to the center of the room, the crowd parted like the waters of the Red Sea at the raised hand of Moses. Strangely, Eric realized that they were all looking straight at him. He pulled his arm from Jessica’s grasp, looked to the left and to the right, trying to figure out what was going on. Was his fly unzipped? He refused to look down, but then he looked straight ahead. And what he saw made him nearly swallow his own tongue.
What the crap!?
* * * *
Arabella and Jade were watching the crowd. Austin was Jade’s hometown. He was having a great time—reconnecting, people watching, greeting friends and rivals alike. This was an event that even last year, he wouldn’t have been caught dead at. Bronze nudes would have made h
im run for the hills. But now, his new philosophy was, kick back and enjoy life. Loving Arabella had changed the way he looked at the world.
“Can you believe how hot those bronzes are?” Arabella asked her husband. “And that my little cousin Evangeline actually sculpted them? If this guy is real, I want to see him” She told her husband everything, so Jade was as up to date on Evangeline’s dilemma as Arabella was.
“Hey, I‘m the only guy you’re supposed to be lusting after!” Jade pretended to be affronted. He playfully covered his wife’s eyes. In reality, he had no doubt where he stood with Arabella. But as the crowd parted, Jade realized what had been niggling him about the man Evangeline had sculpted. He knew he looked familiar—and there he was.
“Look, Bella. Your cousin’s dream man just walked through the door.”
Arabella pulled her cousin to the corner.
“Sweetie, I need to work the room,” Evangeline protested. She wasn’t fond of big crowds, or of being the center of attention. But the museum had promised her twenty five thousand dollars for her favorite charity if she would consent to this showing. Besides, this could be a career making opportunity.
“Evangeline, you have to listen to me. It’s about Angel.” That effectively stopped Evangeline in her tracks.
* * * *
“What about Angel?” Tenderness welled up in Evangeline. Nothing meant more to her than the man who cherished her in the middle of the night, even if he vanished before the morning light broke the horizon.
“Sweetie, Angel is here.’
“What?” Evangeline had blanched white and was now trembling like a leaf.
“Your Angel is the absolute, identical image of a gorgeous fireman by the name of Eric McAllister. Jade knows him“
“Oh, Arabella, I think I may pass out.” The ramifications of this revelation were just beginning to sink in. The only thought she could process was that Angel walked and talked and was right now actually breathing the same air that she was. “Angel is really here?”
“Yes, baby - he is. And he’s looking at himself, in all of his glory - even as we speak.”
Evangeline made her way through the crowd, anxious to see her miracle for herself.
Her heart sank when she saw the beautiful blond that was glued to his side. What if he was married? She hadn’t considered that. Arabella walked up to her, “Evangeline, he belongs to you. There has to be an explanation,” she said referring to the other woman.
“What do I do?” Evangeline was torn, she wanted to run away - as far and as fast as she could. And she also wanted to go to Angel, take him by the hand and take him home with her. She watched him as he realized that he was looking at himself.
* * * *
Eric didn’t know whether to be shocked, offended or just plain flattered. He slowly walked around the nude sculpture that so closely resembled him. He knew how his body looked; he had worked hard to get the muscle definition that he had. And here it was in specific, minute detail. And the look on the face was so obviously that of an aroused man, the hooded eyes - the piercing gaze. The statute was labeled ‘Angel’, by Evangeline Martel. How odd. No one else in Austin knew about his middle name, or how special it was to him. He was flabbergasted. The lightning bolt scar was in the exact place that it was on his body; a product of an eight year old boy and his four wheeler’s run-in with a barbwire fence. But what stood out the most, literally, was the fact that he - - uh, the statute was extremely well endowed. Eric smiled. Someone sure had his measurements down pat! Damn!
The crowd was coming alive. It was full of guys that knew him, fire guys, city guys, EMT’s - they all knew one another. And they were cutting him no slack. They held nothing back in the hoo-raw department. “Eric, you are our hero!” one of them exclaimed.
“Do you think they’ll ask you to pose for Playgirl?”
Knowing his alma mater was the University of Texas, another one exclaimed. “It’s about time the world knew how long a Longhorn really is!”
“Go look at the other sculpture, Eric,” a faceless voice in the crowd instructed him. So he did. The first piece had surprised him; after all, the sight of one’s own naked body in an unsuspecting place was enough to get anyone’s undivided attention. But what he saw next took his breath away. Obviously, the man was him also; there really was no mistaking that. This one showed him in the throes of coitus; legs in a widened stance, supporting a woman in his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist, obviously fully impaled on his shaft. The woman had her arms around him, hiding her face in his neck, a braid hanging to the middle of her back. Eric was stunned! This was her! The woman of his dreams. He would have recognized that body anywhere - and her hair - it was all so familiar. Eric’s heartbeat was going nuts! This was the most erotic thing he had ever seen in his life! Suddenly, he wished his pants weren’t quite so tight. He refused to look down to see how big of a show he was putting on. He turned to walk through the crowd, intent on finding someone who could point out the artist who had put all of his goods on display. Did she know his dream-girl? Maybe, this was the answer to that midnight yearning that had been about to drive him mad.
He began to be conscious of the stares and whispers of the crowd that encircled him and the pair of bronzes. He turned to look around and WHAM! Jessica slapped the crap out of him! “Looks likes I wasn’t the only one cheating!” Jessica huffed off and Eric rubbed his jaw, glad to see her go. He was much more interested in exactly who the artist was that had carved his extra-large penis for the whole of Austin to see. This Evangeline Martel sure had some explaining to do! He needed to go check his bedroom for very small cameras.
The crowd parted again. But, this time there was someone at the other end of the man-made pathway. They might as well get out of the way, he was coming through. Then, he saw her.
She was just standing there, looking straight at him.
She appeared to be waiting on him.
Did he know her? She seemed familiar. Eric searched his memory, but came up empty. Hell, he wanted to know her! She looked so familiar . . . . .so . . . . .
She was not just beautiful, she was delectable. Wearing a knee length, sequined, midnight blue dress with a low scoop neckline and short sleeves, she was completely and utterly feminine. And that dark hair - so like the woman of his fantasies!
He noticed she was standing close to the Congressman’s wife - Arabella Landale - and it was obvious they were related. They were very similar; in their coloring and in their expression. But the object of his desire, she was different; wonderful, in ways that he could not put his finger on. She was no more than five-six, but perfectly, exquisitely curved.
Their eyes met. And for a moment, he saw hunger and yearning in her gaze. Every cell in his body screamed out for her. There was total recognition in every fiber of his being. He watched her shut her eyes, as if gathering strength. Then, she turned her back on him. Her hair hung in a seductive braid to the middle of her back, the long dark tresses intertwined with dark blue ribbon that was dusted with rhinestones.
That braid! He had just seen that braid! His nighttime princess had that braid!!
The sight caused his gut to wrench, the woman in the second statue - the one that was carved in his arms - making love to him -the woman driving him crazy night after night - - was her! Eric was mesmerized. Then it dawned on him. This was the artist! This must be Evangeline Martel! Somehow, he and this woman had a connection that he couldn’t begin to understand.
Nothing in the world could have prevented him from going to her. He stopped about three feet from her. Oblivious to the crowd he approached her. “There you are.” God, he wanted to lick his lips. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, sweetheart. Turn around and look at me.”
She stood still one moment longer, her back to him. He hungrily took in her form, from the top of her head, the luscious curve of her bottom, to the small bare feet encased in what looked to him like glass slippers. Then she turned to face him. At first, it seemed as if she was
trying to be composed and business like - but then something broke in her expression and she stepped right up to him. Reaching out, she put her small hand on his cheek, caressing it so very lightly. Then she leaned up and whispered in his ear. “Are you real? Or did I conjure you?”
Conjure, that was a word his mother used. He didn’t take the time to analyze the implications. “Oh, I’m real baby. Would you like to pinch me and find out?”
A rosy blush rose from her neck and enveloped her cheeks. “Yes.” The one word answer hung between them. Desire was so thick it could have been cut with a knife.
Much to Eric‘s surprise, she picked up his hand and caressed the palm. Her touch was saying ‘take me’, but her words were saying something else. “I am so sorry; I never meant to hurt you. Was that woman your girlfriend? If you will go get her, I can explain. I can fix this.”
Eric didn’t want her to fix this. What he wanted; was her. But he didn’t intend for anymore of his business to be public knowledge. He whispered where only she could hear. “I need to talk to you. Now. In private.” She seemed to hesitate. “I want to do things to you that no one else needs to see. If you don’t want to shock every person in this room, I would suggest you get us to some place more secluded. Now.” His voice was much gruffer than he intended it to be. His passion was running extremely high.
Eric had never felt so turned on in his entire life. The crowd was dead quiet. They were all straining to hear any word that passed between them. Everyone was aware that Eric McAllister was standing face to face with the woman who seemed to have an intimate knowledge of his body and was brave enough to declare it to the world. She hadn’t moved, so Eric took the initiative. He grasped her hand and led her off to one side and into a conference room, slamming the door behind them. Clenching his hands into tight fists, he fought to keep his hands off of her. But she looked so upset, he stepped back and waited, watching her, giving her time to compose herself.
