The passenger jet taxied from the terminal, carrying away Mary's reason for living. The tears she held back a few minutes ago now streamed down her face.
"Excuse me. Is everything all right?"
Startled, Mary swiped her cheek with a palm. "Yes. I'm fine."
In a whisper, the cultured voice said, "Parting is such sweet sorrow."
She laughed, turning toward the stranger. "Yes, it is."
The man's gray temples and sparkling eyes made Mary's chest tighten. Her gaze returned to the plane. "But it's not Romeo and Juliet sorrow. Just a worried mother, sending her son off to college."
"Ah, I understand." He handed her a tissue. "Mother is the bank where we deposit all our hurts and worries."
She laughed. "So, you're a philosopher?" said Mary, dabbing her red eyes.
"Hardly. I'm just an old man with experience."
Glancing back, she said before thinking, "Not so old."
His smile broadened, revealing straight white teeth. "Thank you. I feel younger for hearing it."
Mary's face warmed.
Suddenly awkward, she said, "I'd better get going, and beat the rush hour traffic. Well... thank you for your thoughtfulness."
"It was nice talking with you," he said, while reaching into his suit coat pocket.
Holding out a business card between well-manicured fingers, he added. "If you're ever bored, stop in and say hi."
Without looking, Mary hastily took the card and put it in her pocket. "Thank you."
Four days later, while preparing the laundry, Mary found the card in her jeans pocket. The card read, 'The Lyons Den Gallery' -- Daniel Lyons, proprietor. Along the bottom, a lion reclined in gold relief.
"An art dealer. Nice."
A week later, bored, lonely, and full of self-pity, Mary picked up the business card on her dresser and decided it might be fun to pay a visit to the 'Lyons Den'.
On Saturday, she locked her car and hurried toward the gallery storefront. An autumn wind chilled the afternoon sunshine. Mary's cold legs made her regret wearing a dress. The warm anticipation she felt, while getting ready for Mr. Lyons, evaporated. It was a silly, girlish notion to think he'd even be here on a Saturday, or unattached for that matter.
A small, silver bell tinkled when she opened the gallery's front door.
A familiar voice yelled from somewhere in the back, "I'll be with you in a moment."
Mary's skin warmed again. She tried to calm herself by perusing the photographs adorning the walls -- some of them were landscapes but most were portraits. There were pictures of men and there were pictures of women. As her gaze swept toward the back wall, she spied photos of men and women together, captured in romantic embraces.
"Well hello!"
She jumped at the sudden exclamation. Her voice cracked when she said, "Hi. I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop--"
"I'm so glad you did. Welcome, mother-from-the-airport." He took her hand and held it gently with Old World charm. "Would you like some tea or coffee? I also have some fresh Danish that will melt in your mouth."
The way he stared at her lips gave her goose bumps. Mary looked away and studied the nearest photo. The nervousness receded to where she could breathe. "No, thank you."
His grip turned into a friendly handshake. "Let me introduce myself officially. I'm Daniel Lyons, photographer, entrepreneur, and libertine."
Mary's throat constricted again, to the point where her voice squeaked. "I'm Mary Fuller. Nice to meet you, Mr. Lyons. Libertine? Well... thanks for the warning."
"Very nice to meet you, Mary. I'm harmless, really." He released her hand and stepped back. His eyes wandered over her, as if he were appraising her value as a potential conquest. "Please. Call me Dan or Danny. There are no pretensions here."
Mary found his candor refreshing and little disarming. Bad boys were in her past, way in the past, she didn't think they had any power over her anymore. She turned back toward the wall, and said, "I like the way you captured the reflected sunlight in this shot."
He stepped beside her and looked at the photo. "Ah, yes. This is one of my best sunrises. I remember it well. I froze my wide angle ass off to get that one just right." Once again, his gaze fell heavily on her profile. "You have a good eye for composition, Mary. Are you an artist?"
She steeled her heart and met his gaze. "Yes, I paint when I have a chance."
Daniel smiled. "I knew it." Pointing at the next photograph, he said, "I prefer doing portraits. What do you think of this one?"
The picture was taken in black and white. A gray-haired man sat behind a large desk, talking on the telephone with his feet up. The desktop was empty, except for the phone and a miniature cannon. Through the window behind him rose a towering city skyline along a curved lakefront.
"Hmm, it's very powerful. It says, 'I'm the man'."
He laughed. "That's exactly what he wanted it to say, too."
"Is that Chicago?"
"Why yes, it is -- 1989. That's my father. He had a corner office in the Hancock building. A captain of industry."
"You captured it perfectly."
"Thank you." His searing gaze returned to her face. "I think you're very photogenic, Mary. Have you ever modeled before?"
"As a matter of fact, I have." To put some distance between them, Mary strolled to the back wall. The pictures of embracing couples did nothing to relieve her tension.
She felt him close behind her, before he spoke again.
"Interesting. When did you pose?"
Not to be intimidated, she straightened to her full five-foot six-inch height and faced him squarely. "When I was young. I made some extra money posing for figure drawing classes."
His knowing smile made her face hot. Afraid of the next obvious question, she turned back to the wall of romantic portraits. Thankfully, he moved away without asking, 'Nudes?'
"Mary, I have some clients arriving shortly, so I have to prepare. Stay as long as you like. If you're interested, I have more explicit photographs in my private gallery through that door."
He pointed to the left at another door. A sign read, 'No one under 21 admitted'.
"You're welcome to have a look. But I warn you they're explicit. I think the body is beautiful, and I'm not ashamed of my work. I'll be in the back. If you need anything just give me a shout." Daniel disappeared with a smile and a wave.
Alone, Mary fought the desire to look inside the explicit room. Although she'd been celibate for a decade, she wasn't a prude. Instead, she studied the photographs in the main gallery. The portraits of couples were beautifully arranged. The subjects were in various states of undress, but all were tasteful and discreet. They looked truly affectionate. She wondered if they were actual couples or just posed models.
Mary had put her life on hold for her son. These pictures dredged up desires long suppressed. The air temperature in the room seemed to rise. Her heart double-timed as the wall clock tick-tocked.
The front door creaked opened and the little silver bell tinkled.
Mary jumped with embarrassment, caught with her mental pants down.
A young couple entered, and Mary recognized them immediately. She was standing in front of their semi-nude portrait. Her face burned when they both smiled, like they read her dirty mind.
The man grasped his companion's hand, and said to Mary, "Hi. We're the Baxter's. Are you our Clotho?"
Flustered, Mary said, "No. I, I... I'm Mary Fuller... just visiting."
Their look of disappointment made Mary tingle.
The petite brunette smiled, and looked Mary up and down as they walked through the door to the back room. "Maybe you'd like to be. Maybe the Fates brought you here for us."
Frozen, Mary stared at the door they entered and listened closely, trying to overhear the indistinguishable conversation.
A minute later, Daniel came out and, as he walked to the front door, said, "Mary, I'm going to be busy for a while with the Baxter's. So I'm going to lock the front door. When you leave, please pull it closed and make sure it's secure."
The metallic clunk from the lock had a trapped finality about it.
"If you'd like to observe the shoot, the Baxter's are fine with that. I told them you're an artist, as well. But I warn you; this is an erotic photo shoot. If explicit sexuality offends you, then please stay out."
His abrupt departure left Mary a little insulted for some reason. Or maybe it was something else, a different emotion. Disappointment perhaps.
Faintly, Beethoven began to play. Mary loved Beethoven. The idea of porn being shot to classical music made her uncomfortable in a peculiar mix of disdain and curiosity. She turned to leave, walked to the door, and had her hand on the doorknob. Then she heard them laugh. They were enjoying themselves. What kind of people are they?
Pensively, she toured the main gallery again, until she stood by the door leading into the Lyon's den of iniquity. Ten feet inside the door, the hallway turned right. Mary tiptoed to the corner and peeked down another hallway. Five feet away, a door on the left was brightly illuminated. The music came from there. That had to be the studio. Quietly, Mary moved to the edge of light and glanced inside.
Mrs. Baxter spotted her immediately. "Mary! Come in! Join us!"
The men turned and smiled.
Daniel poured a third glass of wine. "Here, Mary, a little vino to calm your nerves?"
Hesitantly, Mary entered the studio. It was a big room, as large as a theater stage. There were different areas sectioned off by backdrops. Most were storage for furniture and props. The area lit up by the bright lights resembled a Victorian bedroom. A white-lace canopy bed gave the scene an air of innocent femininity.
Mary took the offered wine, and said simply, "Thank you."
As she sipped, the others returned to their interrupted conversation.
"Okay. The consensus from the feedback on your last post is that your subscribers want to see Jennifer in some light bondage." Daniel nodded toward the bed. "Nothing better than a four-poster for that."
He led them to a wardrobe and opened the doors. "I have a night gown for you Jenny, and a top hat, ruffled shirt and breeches for you Bruce."
Jennifer pulled out the gauzy nightgown and smiled. "So, what scene are we acting out?"
Bruce began removing his clothes. Briefly he glanced at Mary, and said, "This is going to be fun."
They all looked.
Mary, feeling self-conscious, turned away to study other areas of the stage.
The threesome began to speak in secretive tones.
This really wasn't something Mary wanted to be involved in, but to leave now would mark her as uptight. She was above this sort of tawdry quirk, but it would be interesting to witness how these porn shoots were done. On an empty stomach, the wine was soon doing its job by numbing her anxiety.
After inspecting a stuffed Grizzly bear for minutes, Mary turned back to the bedroom scene in time to see Bruce pull his breeches up over his bare ass. His back was well muscled and flexed as he buttoned his fly.
Jennifer had already donned the translucent nightgown. Her erect nipples marked by dark circles beneath the fabric. A pubic shadow accentuated her groin.
Bruce finished buttoning up a ruffled shirt, picked up a riding crop, and said, "I'm randy. I mean... ready."
Daniel placed his arms around the shoulders of his models. "All right then. Places everyone!"
