Nicholas Lukremaker saw Tabetha Winslow coming into his art store. He had always admired this recently widowed artist, both for her looks and abilities. She came in often enough to call her a regular customer. He also sold some of her paintings for her. They occupied an informal corner of the shop and usually took some effort to sell. The money was good and artist was sexy, so Nick could not complain. He had always had the hots for her, but their conversation never went beyond art supplies and her oils that he helped her sell.
She looked ravishing today, Nicholas thought. She was wearing a white round neck tee shirt and fawn colored shorts. It was enough to spur the imagination of the densest voyeur. Nicholas felt his youth spring to life, as his imagination carried him away.
Knowing that Tabetha was a big fan of Picasso, Nicholas had even done some research on Picasso's works, so that he could make conversation with Tabetha. Not that Nicholas had any artistic propensities. His art store was about business. Considering that Picasso's works inspired Tabetha's, it seemed logical that they could get into an animated chatter about it. But Tabetha had never encouraged it. This however did not mean that Nicholas had given up, the young and enthusiastic stud that he was.
"Good morning Nicholas."
"Hi there, pretty lady."
Tabetha started to browse the shelves aimlessly. She had been in the store several times and she knew it like the back of her hand. Yet, she was browsing.
"Hey, you know what. I recently got a photo album of Picasso's rare works from a store in New York. Would you like to see it"?
It took some time for Tabetha to come out of her stupor. Smiling brightly, she turned toward him and said, "Sure, why not."
Encouraged by her smile, Nicholas brought up the pictures from the CD-ROM on his computer. As they "clicked" through the images, Nicholas spouted out his interpretations to the "messages" that the paintings carried. To Tabetha, they were at least amusing. Art was her back yard and at least Nicholas sounded logical if not accurate in the popular sense.
It was not until they reached the erotica section that Tabetha realized where this was all heading. She was not stupid. She had always known that 19-year-old was interested in her. She had actively discouraged it in the past.
But now she found herself being curious.
They were staring at the picture (of a painting) of a naked lady, who stood with her thighs spread wide, so that the lips of her cunt were clearly parted. A fish floated vertically, right below her cunt, with its long serpentine tongue reaching up to lick her.
"What do you think the picture is saying," he asked?
Not waiting for an answer, he continued, "I think, I'll call it "Under Water Delights." No, no, wait. I think that it is a depiction of what it takes to satisfy a woman." "Or perhaps," he giggled, "our man is trying to say that there's something fishy about femininity."
Tabetha laughed. She couldn't help herself. She wondered how long he had staring at it to come up with so many seemingly sensible interpretations. The plot was definitely thickening.
"Don't laugh," the budding art critic continued, "surely you see that there's some sense in what I am saying"?
"Well... Maybe."
"There you see. I knew you would agree. Care for a cup of coffee, I know I need one."
As they sipped on the fresh coffee, Tabetha listened intently to the chatter. She caught him eyeing her assets quite often. The topic turned from Picasso to the business in general. She understood very soon that Nicholas, apart from his young lust, made extraordinary sense in the business end of things. She knew from experience that he could be trusted to sell her paintings. Though this was an art supply store, Nicholas had offered to sell her paintings for her and had succeeded quite well. She understood from him, that to sell art, the salesman had to often use their imagination and even pretend that they were good artists themselves. If the paintings in question were a bit profound, the effort involved was a lot more. This explained some of the Picasso bit.
Tabetha's attention slowly drifted from what he was saying to what he was doing. Nicholas was playing around with mouse and the pointer was running all over the body of the woman in the picture (the erotic painting) on the computer screen.
"Have you done any erotic painting yourself"?
"No, I don't think I have, my paintings have been sensual but never sexual," she said.
"Nothing sells like sex and I think that you really ought to give it a shot."
"Well... I am not sure, I am not even sure if erotic paintings sell anymore. There's plenty of stuff available at gas stations, the Net, adult stores ..." She trailed off.
"You've been shopping have you," he asked smiling.
Tabetha was taken aback a bit but she recovered fast enough to say "No Nicholas...I'm just referring to the fact that erotic photography can be far more provocative, inexpensive, and easily accessible." She wasn't about to tell him about her recently acquired toys.
"There are others who still admire art. Art is only limited by your imagination. Photography has its limitations. You cannot photograph the impossible with a camera."
"Yeah, you are right but I don't think that erotic paintings are for me."
"I'll model for you if you want"; Nicholas volunteered with a grin.
"I am sure that you would, and I'm also sure you'll make a good model. I am not sure that I would want to do it though," Tabetha replied.
"I'm not asking you model. I'm asking you to paint," said Nicholas, deliberately twisting what she said.
"Nicholas, the thought of modeling never entered my head. I was saying that I don't want work on erotic stuff."
"Why not?"
"Well I'm not able to able explain why. But I know that I don't want to do it."
"Well don't say no without thinking about it. I'll model for free and we'll make a killing. All I want is my usual sales commission. Surely that's a good offer."
"Well...," she dragged, pushing her blonde curls off her face, "I don't know."
Nicholas went down on his knees before her and held her hands. "C'mon baby, you know that this will sell. Let's make some money here. I am sure that we can make a premium over the normal rates that we get."
"Nicholas, if we do it, it's got to be art, it can't be sex."
Nicholas was not sure that he saw a difference. But he wanted action. Slapping his hands on his thighs he asked with great energy, "When do we start"?
"When are you free"?
"How's bout this Saturday? I'll tell Dad to take care of the store."
"Your Dad? Mmmm.. Nicholas I'm not sure that I want to do this. I mean, I need to be frank here. You are at least ten years younger and people could talk," said Tabetha, her guilt taking over again.
"Baby, this will be our secret. No one has to know. Besides, as you said, this is about art and not sex. Your painting need not have my DNA on it."
"Okay ... but...," she was defeated.
"Baby, I'm coming and we ARE doing this."
******
"Should I strip"?
"What???"
"Baby, I asked if I should strip?"
