I'd cultivated neat appearance in consideration of the day's mission: Blue blazer, brown slacks. A trim haircut and a clean shave.
Serious, but down-to-earth.
Once behind the wheel of my restored '72 Mustang, I swung onto the road to the suburb. My eyes were fixed on the street ahead.
Austin Rey was Ms. Forbearance, herself. The founder of Morality For Today was notorious as a pushy, one-woman censor of all things sexual.
Adult magazines at convenience stores? Neighborhood racy movie houses? Enlightened textbooks? Public library literature?
All had come under high-profile attack from Austin Rey and her crusading nay-sayers. She'd even become a semi-regular on regional cable TV talk shows.
And now, she'd announced a challenge to the statue I'd fashioned per the city council's request. "Overly-suggestive," she'd pronounced it to reporters.
Suggestive of what? I laughed. Personal liberty? Good! That was my creative intent.
This afternoon's casual, private meeting might deter her prudish, obstructionist legal action. At least, that's what the city council members who'd arranged this were hoping.
I sighed, contemplating the task ahead.
She was as committed to repression as I was passionate about free expression. She and I had even debated the general topic before council meetings a few times.
She was a fierce opponent. I wasn't optimistic.
I turned into her gated community's drive and continued up the path toward the august estate. The house censorship built.
Austin stood on the veranda. She was slim, tall and, I realized, elegant even in her 50s. The simple aqua dress became her svelte figure.
"Mr. Staisen? Come in, please." Her polite smile was impersonal.
I followed her indoors, taking care to wipe my feet even though it wasn't raining. Something about her palatial home and arch manner made me feel inherently impure.
"Please, sit down." She indicated a plush, velvet-covered sofa.
"I fully intend to publicly protest the smutty statue." she directed that to me over one shoulder as she examined a wall-shelf row of porcelain figurines.
"Well, you get right to the point," I replied. "Suppose I do, too."
Opening my folder, I continued. "The City Attorney has researched this. I advised him that another nude statue of mine was challenged in Toledo two years ago. That case was ultimately dismissed. Toledo's statue stands to this day."
"Then, you feel this is a settled matter?" She smiled sweetly, as if readying to pounce.
"I do, indeed. But more importantly, so do the courts."
"Perhaps, perhaps." She toyed with a porcelain figurine. "But, perhaps an important point needs to be made. One on moral virtues in civic displays."
I took a beat before replying. Her home was expensively-appointed. Attractive without being ostentatious. It practically screamed dignity.
The divorced mother of three grown children, she wore her gently-curled red hair at mid-length.
Faint lines lent character to her quiet loveliness. Her blue eyes twinkled when she laughed but flashed with intensity when she was angry. And I'd more often seen the latter.
I cleared my throat. "Ms. Rey -- may I call you 'Austin?' -- I wouldn't recommend that you embark upon what would surely turn out to be a costly and embarassing defeat for your group. And, I might add, a very public one, at that."
The Dame of Denial settled herself on a regal-looking armchair that seemed to be the center of the furniture arrangement. "Mr. Staisen -- Nicholas -- I am not easily dissuaded, I assure you."
I began to answer, but she cut me off. "However, it would seem we have nothing more to talk about,"
"I disagree." I leaned forward. "I think avoiding conflict is in both our interests and should be pursued."
She stood. "I believe our positions are quite clear. You have your responsibilities. I have mine."
She stepped to the great oak door. "Good day." Her voice was crisp, businesslike.
Outside, I paused before opening the Mustang's door. The meeting had gone about as I'd expected. Past encounters with Austin had shown me her obstinence.
"Oh well," I thought, climbing in. "I did try."
