The Colour of Mermaids

by Catherine Curzon

  Daniel touched Lyndsey’s card to the reader and the click sounded again. Then he reached past Eva, his arm lightly brushing her hip, and turned the door handle behind her, finally letting them into the sanctuary of Rupert’s carefully ordered office.

  “On the desk?” Eva popped open the top button on his trousers and drew down his zip with care. “Kiss me, you delicious bastard.”

  He slipped his arms around Eva, one hand sliding down to rest possessively on her bottom as he kissed her. This wasn’t the awkward collision she and Rupert had quickly written out of their brief, aborted dating history, but a gesture born entirely of his beloved instinct, full of the heat and passion that had lately gone missing from Daniel Scott’s artwork. There was nothing by numbers about it.

  Eva responded with desire burning in her kiss as she dragged one hand through his hair and slid the other into his trousers. She closed her hand around his erection, unhindered by underwear, as the enfant terrible wore none. Her touch drew a gasp of pleasure from his lips and into their kiss, before he lifted his hand and the edge of Rupert’s desk pressed against Eva’s thighs.

  “Tell me how hard you like it,” he demanded breathlessly, catching the edge of her earlobe lightly between his teeth.

  “Do you think you can do it as hard as I need it?” Eva grinned, stroking his long, girthy erection. “You’re bloody big… I’m going to enjoy this.”

  Daniel’s lips met Eva’s again, his tongue moving with hers as he urged her dress higher. The office air was cool on her naked skin, his fingers sure as they revealed her body, and all the time he was kissing her with that same intensity, that same heat.

  She broke away from his lips to whisper, “There’s a condom in my handbag.” Was he going to think she’d planned this, that she’d left for the exhibition intending to seduce him? Let him, if that’s what he wants to think.

  “So you’re a fan then?” He tightened his hands on her hips and lifted her up onto the desk.

  Eva laughed. “You really are the most arrogant man I’ve ever met! But you also have the biggest cock… Are the two things connected?”

  “Definitely.” Daniel reached into his jacket and took out a folded leather wallet. He opened it with a practiced flick of his wrist and retrieved a wrapped condom. With the wallet safely returned to his pocket, he tore open the wrapper with his teeth then told her, “If you ask very nicely, I might even sign your programme before we leave.”

  “And if I don’t ask nicely?” Eva arched an eyebrow. “Will you put me over your knee?”

  “I probably should, just for your opinion of my work.” He held out the wrapped condom in a wordless invitation.

  Eva took the condom out and threw the wrapper over her shoulder. She slid the condom onto him, her hand trembling just a little as she did so, then she linked both hands behind his neck and locked her legs around his middle.

  The sunglasses weren’t coming off, Eva realised that now. Just to goad her, of course. To stoke her ire. An urgent fuck between two people who had done nothing since their first meeting but spar and flirt with each other.

  Why not?

  He deepened the kiss, stroking his tongue against hers as he caught his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, finally joining their bodies with one determined thrust of his hips. There was no preamble, no pretence of affection, just the primal desire to share this most intimate of connections.

  Eva moaned into their kiss as he thrust, possessing her in the most visceral way he could. She rocked her hips against him, urging him as deep inside her as he could go, answering a need within her that had been left unsatisfied for too long. Pleasure rolled through her, and she was hungry for him, ravenous and greedy for every inch of him and every thrust. Even if she couldn’t see his eyes behind those bloody sunglasses.

  Daniel’s fingers were in her hair, tangling, twining, bringing her mouth back to his. Every thrust drew a gasp from him, every second stoked the fire between them and Eva tightened her limbs around him until they were as close together as they could be. Downstairs they would be wondering where their star was, but it was a secret they’d never share. It belonged to Eva Catesby.

  Eva’s pleasure built steadily from a tremble in her limbs, growing until she shuddered with its intensity and something inside her burst and flowed out through her body. She moaned Daniel’s name as her pleasure grew again. The urgency of his kisses and the deep, hard strokes of his cock told her that his own orgasm couldn’t be far off, and the promise of it sent a shiver through her. In reply, Daniel’s embrace tightened just a little, his hand creeping round to caress her bottom as he pulled Eva’s body against him.

  Eva grasped his buttocks, feeling all the power in him, which at that moment was for the pleasure of them both. “Harder…harder…” she sighed, lost in a place of passion and sensation, no thought in her head besides this man. Their kisses grew more fervent and, as she turned her head away to gasp, she knocked his sunglasses flying.

  “Shit!” Daniel spat the word out and she looked into his eyes, seeing a flash of annoyance and desire in the depths. Then he twisted his fingers in Eva’s hair and kissed her again, obeying her command as his hips moved harder than ever.

  They were so close that his eyelashes brushed against her face. Such a small thing, but—

  “Oh, Daniel.” Whatever else Eva would’ve said was lost in a long, drawn-out moan as she climaxed again, her body shuddering and her veins alight with vivid desire. It was if a thread joined them and it pulled taut at that moment, pushing Daniel to his own climax even as she found her release. He bucked against her, a cry of exertion torn from his lips as his orgasm claimed him.

  Eva held him tightly, her mouth pressed against his neck as tremors still ran through her body. “Sorry about your sunglasses,” she whispered.

  Daniel tilted his chin up and she felt the pulse in his throat. It was racing.

  “You were determined to get me out of them,” he eventually murmured, but she couldn’t tell if there was any humour in the words.

  “It wasn’t intentional, even if you don’t believe me.” Eva laughed. She touched away his hair from his face. “I suppose I can’t have the star of the show all to myself for the whole evening…”

  “And you’ll be in demand now.” He put one finger beneath Eva’s chin and raised it so he could kiss her lips. “Your public awaits.”

  Then Daniel gently disentangled himself from Eva’s embrace and took a couple of steps back. He turned away and she knew exactly what he was doing, because she already knew that he wasn’t the sort of man to appear dishevelled in anyone’s company.

  Eva hopped down from the desk and let her dress fall back down to her ankles once more. She reached for her handbag. What she was about to do might well make her look needy to a man like the celebrated Daniel Scott, but she couldn’t just walk away. She held out her business card to him. “Now you’re a Brighton resident…if you ever need some company, or illustrations of dancing cakes, give me a ring.”

  Daniel Scott, the guest of honour in Rupert Hawley’s gallery, threw his used condom into his host’s wastepaper basket as though it was his God-given right to do so. When he turned back to Eva his clothes were tidied once more, and those dark eyes were sparkling.

  He took the card and slipped it into his pocket without even glancing at it. Then he picked up his sunglasses and put them on, hiding his gaze from Eva.

  “Do you want me to sign that programme now?”

  Daniel wasn’t going to ring her, Eva knew that. This was a one-off and nothing more, and she was sure he’d laugh about her later, the gall of a nonentity like Eva Catesby thinking he’d want more than five minutes over a desk with her. But she was certain he had enjoyed it.

  “Go on, sign it, then.” What a memento. Her handbag was already open and she pulled out the programme and passed it to him along with a pen from Rupert’s desk tidy. He took the pen and put the programme down on the desk where, moments earlier, they had fucked each other
.

  For a second Daniel appeared to be waiting for those much-vaunted instincts, then he set to work. He was drawing something, Eva realised, and she craned closer to watch.

  It was a scribble of a cupcake with a rather jolly smile and its eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. Its spindly legs and arms were raised in a dance and beneath it he had written, “Today cupcakes, tomorrow landscapes?” Beneath that Daniel scrawled his signature, before he picked up the programme and held it out to her.

  “Maybe!” Eva laughed as she took the programme from him and put it back in her bag. “Well…it’s been fun. Thank you. I should really…” Eva pointed to the door.

  “I’m sure I’ll see you down there.” Only then did he smile, the expression just a little arrogant. No, very arrogant. She knew why when he added, “Always a pleasure to meet a critic.”

  Eva grinned as she opened the door. “Is that how you deal with all your reviewers?”

  “Only the ones with attitude,” was his reply. “But I never sign autographs afterwards.”

  Eva didn’t look back and headed downstairs to the gallery. The overheated room was loud with conversation, and while Daniel’s paintings were the source of fascination to some, most of the crowd were quaffing Prosecco, the exhibition preview a social occasion rather than one to consider art. Eva tried to take in Daniel’s work, but rather than his art, she was aware of him, and every fibre in her body still thrummed. She could still feel him inside her.

  “We appear to have misplaced our star attraction.” Rupert was at Eva’s shoulder, his voice merry. “Tell me that you’ve seen him, my nerves will thank you!”

  Eva sucked in her cheeks as she tried to think what to say. The very man whose desk had been despoiled and he hadn’t a clue. “He…was out on the terrace about ten minutes ago. Smoking a fag. Being intense. You know how it is.”

  “I shall leave him to his own devices, I’m sure he’ll return when he’s ready to mingle,” Rupert decided. He slipped one hand into the pocket of his elegantly cut trousers, something in his studied manner a little too casual.

  Eva felt the need to make conversation, to assuage herself of her twinge of guilt. “Well done, by the way, on getting this gig. Really puts you on the map, doesn’t it!”

  “I wish I could claim the credit, but the inspiration came from Lyndsey,” he told her, the admission one Eva would never have expected. “She was the one who seemed to think we might be able to convince our bad boy to exhibit once word went round that he’d bought the house. I never in a million years thought he’d say yes!”

  “How on earth did you guys do it? He’s so full of himself! The man who keeps his sunglasses on”—Eva paused, seeing again in the dark lenses the reflection of her face softened by need and desire—“indoors then vanishes from his own private viewing. Although I suppose he has a reputation to live up to.”

  “Believe me, it was far from easy. The pottery chicken and charity eiderdown brigade are much easier to deal with.” He took a sip from his glass. “But they don’t bring in the national press, do they? For that we need— Oh thank God, he’s back!”

  Rupert glanced across the room and she saw again Daniel Scott, standing beneath that red canvas once more. One hand was in his pocket, in the other he held a glass of ruby-red wine and on his face was the barest hint of a smile, but even though she couldn’t see his eyes, Eva knew they wouldn’t be smiling. The floor around him was empty, and beyond that exclusion zone, a gaggle of press photographers snapped the publicity shots that would be on tomorrow’s arts pages, both paper and electronic.

  “Far be it from Daniel Scott to miss a photocall.” Most of the Brighton art crowd were making a show of not watching, as if they saw photocalls like that all the time and found them thoroughly tedious. But Eva wanted to watch. She wanted to see him, the man whose desire had met hers for a few delicious minutes. Who would think that her business card was in his pocket?

  If he hadn’t already thrown it away.

  Eva grabbed a Prosecco from a passing tray. And if he had chucked it in the bin and he never contacted her, so what? They’d had their fun.

  “What do you think of the work?” Rupert asked. Across the room Daniel shifted his pose just a little, tilting his head, turning his foot, and Eva had the sudden, strange feeling that his hidden gaze was on her. “Isn’t it marvellous? He’s a visionary, of course, our generation’s Bacon. One could study these works for a lifetime and never tire of listening to what they have to say, don’t you find?”

  “Maybe…” Eva sipped her drink. “But don’t you feel as if he’s always saying the same thing? I mean, everyone who looks at the paintings will take something away from them that’s slightly different, I realise that…but I’m sure you’ll hear from Lyndsey, there was a little incident earlier when Daniel overheard me say that I think he needs to push himself.”

  Rupert’s eyes grew wide. “What? I need to know what happened, Eva, this is damage control time.”

  Eva laughed and patted Rupert’s shoulder. “No need to panic, Rupe! He and I…got our heads together and sorted out our differences. It’s not as if I don’t admire his work, I do, but I don’t think he’s making the most of his talent. It’s something people like him need to hear when they’re surrounded by yes-men and arse-kissers.”

  “And how go things for you?” Rupert smiled. “Is painting for chavs still rolling on, or are they all in a borstal by now?”

  “It’s called art outreach, Rupert…” Eva rolled her eyes at him. “I did wonder about bringing them here to see Daniel’s work. He grew up in care, as we all know. He might not be an ideal role model in some respects, but maybe seeing his art in your gallery might inspire them.”

  “Some little bastard scratched the Jag last week when I was at dinner,” he grimaced. “So if you bring them here, you need to keep them in line. The new Bloomsbury set?”

  “The Burberry set,” Lyndsey helpfully supplied as she joined them, then she and Rupert exploded in a gale of laughter.

  Eva guzzled her Prosecco. Her date with Rupert had included a lengthy monologue from him on his disdain for pointless middle-class do-gooders, like Eva and her art outreach. Quite how he’d thought that was the way to impress a woman, she didn’t know. Maybe he’d expected her to melt as soon as she’d got into his Jag and declare that he was perfectly right about everything. She thought of him at his desk tomorrow, leaning against the very spot where she and Daniel had fucked, and it made her smile.

  “Think of Mr Scott, though,” Lyndsey told them. “Isn’t he the role model for your kids, Eva? He had a terrible childhood, yet look at him now. Such a shame that he wouldn’t be interested in talking to them—imagine how amazing it’d be if he did!”

  “Not interested?” Dispirited, Eva tugged at her earlobe, only then realising that her earring had fallen out. Because now, of course, everything would go wrong. “Did you ask him about the local community art projects and all that? Did he say no?”

  The gallery owner and his PA shook their heads as one. Rupert told her, “I don’t think we need to ask, he won’t do it. We weren’t even sure he’d show up tonight!”

  Eva swallowed. The intense joy she had felt while in his arms was ebbing away. She’d behaved like a fool, the willing toy of an entirely unprincipled man. “That’s a shame. He’s in a position to really do some good. At least, I think so. But maybe he can’t do nice. It wouldn’t go with that enfant terrible image, would it?”

  “Don’t offend him again,” Rupert warned, as though she were a naughty child. “Lynnie, we must circulate. Ciao, Eva!”

  “I might go home, actu—” But she wasn’t sure that they had heard her. Across the room Daniel’s photographers had scattered and he was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps even now he was in the office with another woman, another notch for the bedpost. Eva ran her fingers through her hair and they caught on a tangle, which she started to tease out. She was a grown woman, and she wasn’t going to let some little voice in her head mak
e her feel ashamed for enjoying herself. She just hoped it didn’t become public knowledge amongst the Brighton art crowd.

  “Do you ever drink red, or is it only knock-off champagne that suits the girls of Brighton?” Daniel emerged from a small gaggle of guffaws to her right. He held two glasses of red wine, one of which he held out towards Eva.

  “Thank you.” Eva took the glass with a grin. Despite her reservations, her body was reacting again to his presence, desiring his touch once more. Could he tell? “I’m an equal opportunities drinker. As long as it’s got bubbles in it, I’ll drink it, even if it’s not champagne. But I suppose I’ll have to rough it with red wine.”

  “No bubbles in this, I’m afraid.” He sniffed, brushing his thumb briefly across the tip of his nose. “You’ve seen all the works now, I assume?’

  She recognised that gesture. He was a bad boy, after all, and what self-respecting bad boy wouldn’t snort the occasional line? That explained the raging ego, at least. “I’ve seen them all, but I’ve only looked properly at a few. Gutsy work, but you know what I’m going to say, and I’d say the same to the art outreach kids. Don’t be afraid to push yourself. Try to do things differently.”

  “So try a dancing biscuit rather than a dancing cake?” He nodded thoughtfully, then brought his sunglasses up into his hair. She knew then that she was right about the line—she could see it reflected in his dark eyes. “Is that what you do? Outreach?”

  “Believe it or not, my day job is as an illustrator. The outreach is something I do because…” How exactly did she phrase this without sounding patronising? “I was a lucky child, growing up. And there’s lots of kids who aren’t. So I do outreach in my spare time, just to, I don’t know, create a bit of balance in the universe.”

  “Does it help? You, not them.” He slipped his hand into his pocket and leaned his shoulder against the wall. “Does it assuage your middle-class guilt?”

  Eva rolled her eyes. “Should I just do nothing, then? Sit in my nice house drawing anthropomorphic rabbits and not care a straw for anyone else? I just want to help where I can, that’s all.”