Sweet Town Love

by Maggie Ryan

  "You can bring your girlfriend if you like. Really, I mean it. All I care about is the art. I'm not trying to seduce you."

  The idea of taking his clothes off for this stranger held no appeal for him whatsoever. But even as they sat there he was conscious of the ATM slip in his pocket, reminding him of his overdraft. Thirty thousand dollars was a lot of money to walk away from. If she were really serious, he'd be insane to turn it down. Perhaps he should check out her studio. He should at least find out if she was on the up and up.

  "Okay, when would you like me to come round? After we've finished this coffee?"

  "No, no. Not this weekend. I have plans. But if you want to pop by Monday, that would be good. Here, let me write my home address on the back of my card."

  She slid the card back across the table and he slipped it in his wallet. "Yeah, I can do Monday. But if it's all the same to you, I'm not saying anything to Sydney for now. She might not understand."

  "Sydney's your girlfriend?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, as I said, that's entirely up to you—I don't care either way." She drained the last of her coffee and stared at him most decisively. "I really hope you decide to do this. I really do." She stared appraisingly at his jawbone and sighed appreciatively. "Anyway, one way or another, I'll see you Monday. See you soon."

  She rose from the table and left him there to finish his latte. He watched her as she sauntered back along the street. She was a confident one, that was for sure. Thirty thousand dollars! That was a hell of a tempting offer. The money would certainly help him, and the Lord above knew he needed that. He chugged back the latte dregs in his Styrofoam cup, prayed her offer was real then dumped his trash in the swing bin and headed back out into the cold.

  Chapter 6

  Bear-butt Naked

  It was time to try the library again. It wasn't like Sydney was gonna come find him at the motel. He made a quick stop at the vending machine where he bought another Sprite and a Snickers bar, chomped down the chocolate before he got back in the Beemer, then turned the wheel and set off for the other side of town.

  He supposed that encounter with Elizabeth had really marked the start of their troubles. He should have trusted Sydney, he really should have, but even now, years later, he knew that would have been a tough sell. "Hey honey, I've just landed a job taking off my clothes for another woman." Maybe not.

  When he'd returned to their apartment, he found her still under the covers. She was hot as hell, burning up with a slight fever.

  "Did you ged by bedicine?" she asked through a badly blocked nose.

  "Sure did." He deposited the white pharmacy bag by the side of her bed, along with her change. "Can you sit up for me, babes? You need to take some of this right away. You'll feel better."

  "Oh. Okay."

  Her face was white and blotchy, and her hair was caked to the side of her head from sweating. She looked a picture, but still an adorable one. He unscrewed the bottle, and poured a measure of the liquid into the small, clear dosage cup. "Here, you wanna take two of these. And the man said they'll make you sleepy but you'll feel better in a little while."

  "I don't mide. I'd like to ged some sleeb."

  She never commented on how long he'd been. She was probably too sick to notice. And he'd wanted to tell her, he really did, but he didn't know how she'd take it. And being sick as she was—no—better to keep quiet with this—at least for now anyway.

  Once she was all dosed up, she slid back under the covers and was soon fast asleep. He watched her from his armchair. This was the first time in all the time he'd known her that he'd kept something from her. Whatever his reasons, he didn't like how that made him feel—which was pretty shitty.

  Sydney would never understand. How could she? She'd never known the struggle of poverty. Her parents had been wealthy, whereas he was the son of a blue-collar mechanic who never offered a dime to help with tuition. When he told his dad he'd been accepted into college his father had merely grunted; more preoccupied with changing the channels on the TV than congratulating his son. Perhaps if his mother had been alive, things might have been different. But they weren't. And that was that. He wrapped his legs in a thick blanket, and watched Sydney as she slept.

  Looking back, he knew he'd already decided to accept. After all, he was in no position not to, not really. Who was he to look a perfectly good gift horse in the mouth? And as for the nudity, well, it wasn't like he was doing anything wrong. The campus was full of models taking off their clothes for the students. How else were they supposed to master their crafts?

  Come the following Monday, Sydney was no better. She had managed to see a real doctor that morning, who had prescribed something much stronger than the over-the-counter drugs he'd got for her. After a miserable day in class, she'd finally conceded to her illness and had crashed in bed. He kissed her goodbye with a heart exploding with guilt, and still he chose not to tell her. He'd quietly shut the door to their apartment and slipped out while she slept.

  In no time at all he was in Elizabeth's apartment. He'd done a little research. Most models were paid no more than twenty bucks an hour for each sitting—so either she was having him on or was so stupidly rich she could afford this indulgence. When he saw her apartment, he guessed it was the latter.

  It was like a studio from a movie—with New York style exposed brick and a treasure trove of fine paintings on the wall—tres shabby chic. Elizabeth had shed her wool and furs and was walking about in a sheer linen top with no bottom and the tiniest thong that left nothing to the imagination. Not that she needed the clothing; the heat in this place was cranked up to inferno.

  "Take off your coat, make yourself at home," she said.

  He looked at her suspiciously so she looked down at her attire and smiled. "I always dress like this when I work. I like the freedom."

  He slipped out of his overcoat and tossed it over the back of her sofa, availing himself of the opportunity to walk around the room and inspect the art.

  "What do you think?" she asked, watching him as he moved.

  "Looks all right. I'm not much of a connoisseur myself but I like these. Are they very valuable?"

  "You don't want to know."

  "That much, eh?"

  "Quite. Have you decided to sit for me then?"

  "Yes. If you're serious about it. Why pay so much though?"

  "I like to get what I want. I was watching you that day by the ATM. I liked the cut of your chin. It's exquisite."

  He smiled. "Let me remind you, I have a girlfriend, one I happen to love very much."

  She nodded. "Have no worries on that score. My only interest is the art. Hell, if she is as beautiful as her boyfriend, maybe she'd like to sit for me, too? Perhaps I could sculpt you both together."

  "Errr, no. Sydney wouldn't do that, so you can forget about it."

  She clapped her hands in the air then spread them apart as if dismissing demons. "Gone already. It was just an idea. Would you like to sit for me now?"

  "Now?"

  "Sure. I can wire the money to your account in a matter of minutes. There's no time like the present, that's what I always say."

  Put on the spot like this made him uncomfortable. He hesitated, and she must have sensed the change in his demeanor because she poured him a drink and handed it to him. "Here. Drink this. Everyone's nervous the first time. The booze will help you relax."

  "I'm not nervous," he said, though they both knew that was a lie.

  She had a desk in the corner where she kept her laptop. She opened it up and sat in her chair. "Well, why don't we get the business side of this over? Once the money's in your account, you'll feel a whole lot better, I assure you."

  She was right about it only taking a few seconds. A few minutes later the alert popped up on his iPhone notifying him that the funds had transferred to his account. He had never seen the balance so fat and healthy before.

  "Now," she continued. "Since that's out of the way, let's get down to business. Foll
ow me."

  She led him over to the window where the natural apartment light was at its strongest. There was a long bench with an arm on one end, and it was padded out with cushions, rather like a poor man's chaise long. "Take off your clothes and I'll pose you," she said.

  His heart stopped. Now they were down to the wire he felt very uncomfortable. Not that he cared a jot about her seeing him bear-butt naked, but he knew that Sydney would, and his body became tense and awkward.

  "Don't get all bashful on me now," she said. "I'm a big girl, I can take whatever you've got in those tight-fitting pants of yours."

  Well, it's now or never, he thought. Think about the money, think about the money. He stripped out of his clothes and stood naked in front of her, one hand cupped over his manhood while she messed about with the pillows on the bench. She didn't give him a second look.

  "There, now, the look I'm trying to capture is the contented look of a satisfied lover, you know, like immediately after sex. A sculpture like that would sell very well in Greenwich, I think."

  She grabbed his arm and coaxed him down onto the bench. Then, without embarrassment, she pulled his legs up and separated them so one was slightly bent at an angle away from the other. "And your hands. Yes, prop them over your head like that. You've seen the movie, Titanic, right? That's the look I want."

  Her eyes drifted down to his mid section. "Yes, well, you're going to have to let go of Mr. Johnson if we're going to do this right."

  He took a deep breath and let his hand rest over his head, pretending not to be embarrassed by his natural reaction to being naked with an attractive female. Elizabeth hardly seemed to notice his angry erection. She looked him up and down appraisingly, moving his limbs one inch to the left or right, depending on her whim.

  "Perfect. Now, once that stiffy has dropped I need you to hold your position for a bit while I draw some preliminary sketches and take a few pictures."

  "Draw? Pictures"

  "Yes. Just at first. I want to be sure of what I'm doing with this piece before I invest in a hunk of marble. That stuff isn't cheap, you know."

  Before he could say another word, her camera was clicking away. She scolded him for the slightest movement while she took pictures from every angle imaginable. Sheer terror took care of his erection, which wilted the moment the camera started clicking. "God alone knows what you're gonna do with that zoom lens," he said. He couched his mild embarrassment in bravado, but she ignored him completely.

  "Just a couple more shots," she said. "Hold steady. That's right. Now it's calmed down you can move your cock over your leg. I want the flaccid look, remember. Not Clash of the Titans."

  And so she continued. Elizabeth was always the professional, and for the rest of the semester, the routine was always the same. Pictures and drawings, and eventually chiseling into a large piece of solid marble. She must have worked on it night and day because it soon began to resemble his naked self. She was an amazing artist—and he watched in awe as she chipped away.

  He had even learned to like the sensation of being a model. There were certainly harder ways to make a living. All he had to do here was lie back and think of Sydney. Well, maybe not Sydney. Not while he was naked and exposed to the watchful eyes of a skillful sculptor like Elizabeth. She had seen him with a hard-on once—he wasn't about to treat her to an eyeful a second time.

  But at last her work was finished. It was their last session, and when he arrived, he noticed a tray of canapés and a bottle of wine chilling on the kitchen counter.

  "To celebrate after we're done," she said. "We deserve it I think. Don't you? We've worked hard together."

  He pulled off his shirt and dropped his pants, assuming his regular position on the bench. While she was fussing about in the kitchen, he pulled a little lint from his navel. His belly was so tight and he ran his fingers idly over his abs while he thought about Sydney and what she might be wearing for him tonight. Inevitably he hardened, and looking up, he saw Elizabeth standing over him, her camera in hand.

  Click! "Just one for old time's sake," she said. Her eyes were fixed on his manhood even now that the camera was down. "I don't suppose that was for me?"

  The question annoyed him. She knew well enough where his heart lay. He spoke about Sydney often enough. "No, it wasn't," Chandler replied.

  "Hmm. Well, you're not quite sitting right for me today. Sit up a little, you're too far down on the bench, I think."

  He hoisted himself up a bit.

  "That's right. And your legs. Open them a little wider for me."

  He did as she asked.

  "Hmmm. Still not right. Let me." She pulled his knee out a little more than usual, then her fingers traced the inside of his thigh, up and up towards his flaccid member. She brushed it gently and looked up into his eyes. He gave her no encouragement and she pulled away.

  "My mistake," she said, raising her hands dismissively. "You had it right at the start."

  He adopted the proper position, and Elizabeth set to work.

  She chipped and rubbed and smoothed for her final half hour, and at the end of the time she stood back. "Voila! Perfecto! The job is done. Why don't you come over and take a look?"

  He picked up his pants and carried them over to where she was standing. It truly was exquisite work. "Look, see," she said, running her hands up and down his marble replica. "See the beauty in the stone? Look at the detail here," she put her hands on the muscles of his biceps, "And here. Her finger traced the stone genitalia. "My clients in Greenwich will be particularly interested in the detail here. So I took especial care with it."

  "Right."

  She was checking him out again, so without further delay, he pulled on his pants.

  "I don't suppose you'd care to sit for me again next semester. Same money. Different pose?"

  "I dunno," he said truthfully. "Maybe."

  If he was going to, he would have to tell Sydney. He couldn't keep such a big secret from her for much longer, and sooner or later she would wonder where his money was coming from. It was a wonder she hadn't asked him about it already.

  "Well, I would love to explore new positions with you next time. Discuss it with your girlfriend, and let me know, okay?"

  "Sure."

  "Now, come and drink some of this wine with me. We deserve a treat."

  He finished dressing then joined her at the counter. It was odd, he thought, that pretty soon some weird people in New York would buy this sculpture and spend the rest of their lives, staring at a carving of his manhood. Whatever turned them on, he supposed. It took all sorts and anyway, he was developing quite a healthy kink of his own.

  Chapter 7

  Exposed

  The only thing he regretted about the whole affair was that he never told Sydney. Sadly though, as with all secrets, the truth had a way of leaking out. And when it did, he'd wished he'd told her. But by then it was already too late.

  He had almost forgotten all about his sessions with Elizabeth. They were sitting in the local Denny's and their food had arrived just a few moments before. Sydney had woken that morning with a craving for sausage and pancakes, and he was just drenching his in maple syrup when her phone pinged.

  Sydney put down her coffee mug and stared blankly across the table. She had turned to stone. Had something happened to her family? Her mother had been sick lately. Maybe things had taken a turn for the worst. "What's up, Syd? Everything okay?"

  Whatever it was, she couldn't speak. She just looked at him like she was having breakfast with a total stranger. Something really bad must have happened, but he had no clue what it might be.

  She put her iPhone down between them and with her finger pushed it slowly across the table; it was as if she couldn't bear to touch it. Her jaw was set, and her eyes were burning—but not in a good way. With a growing sense of alarm, he picked it up.

  There, plastered on the screen for anyone to see was a shot of his naked self. He froze. He recognized it at once, of course, it was one of the phot
o's Elizabeth had taken in their first session together.

  "I can explain," Chandler said. But he sounded pathetic and he knew it. At that exact same moment his own iPhone dinged. He glanced down and saw it was a text from Elizabeth. Whatever. He could hardly stop to read that now. Sydney's eyes brimmed with tears, and her disappointment was a knife to his heart. She ran from the booth, and after picking up his phone, he would have followed her out of the diner, but the manager stopped him before he could leave.

  "Unless you pay for that right now, I'm calling the police."

  "What? Wait. But my girlfriend…" Chandler pointed outside. She was getting away. Couldn't the fool see that? Even as they were messing around, Sydney was in her car and driving off at break-neck speed.

  "I don't care," said the manager. "I'm sick of you college kids, eating and running. So pay up or you'll be spending the night in jail and you can kiss your diploma or whatever it is you're studying for goodbye."

  As fast as he could, Chandler wretched his debit card from his pocket, but the manager, enjoying his distress, was in no hurry to swipe it through. By the time Chandler had signed the check and run after her, Sydney was gone.

  "Damn the fool," he cursed, meaning the manager. She could be anywhere by now. He pulled the iPhone out of his pocket and checked Elizabeth's message.

  Chandler. Someone broke into my place and my account was hacked. Your preliminary drawings were stolen. I'm so sorry.

  Yeah, right. Not as much as he was. Chandler kicked a pebble across the parking lot and cursed the heavens above him. He had no cash on him and his bank funds were low again. And the buses out here were few and far between. There was nothing much he could do other than haul butt the three miles across town, back to their apartment. And that would give him a lot of time to imagine the worst. And imagine it he did.

  The security chain was on the latch when he got back to their apartment, but after much screaming and shouting, as well as yells from the other tenants in the building, Sydney finally let him in. Her face was blotchy and red from crying. Of course she'd assumed the worst. In her eyes he was a cheat, a philanderer, a lying low-life scum bag. He'd be thinking the same in her shoes, and maybe worse.