Note from author: I really am a florist and part time instructor at our local college. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it. Don't forget the feedback, please vote, and thanks for choosing to read this.
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As she lugged the last of the cases of flowers from her car to the loading dock she took a last look up at the sky. It was a bright and clear spring evening, just about dusk. She enjoyed the smell of the hyacinths that were blooming nearby, and inhaled deeply. This was followed by first one sneeze, then another two in quick succession. "Hmmm," she mused, "always three sneezes. Damned allergies."
Her everyday dealings with certain allergy triggers were inevitable. Easter time was the worst, with the lilies and hyacinths, followed closely by the pine and spruce, and other Christmas greenery. Who would deliberately choose a vocation they were allergic to as their profession? Yes, it had been her, Chelsea Laslow. She was first a full time florist by trade, then an instructor part time at the local college. This kept her in close proximity to the culprits that wreaked havoc on her nasal sensitivities.
A screeching bird nearby brought her out of her stare at the neatly planted rows of flowering bulbs, beautiful in their pinks, reds, oranges, and yellows as the sun started to set over the distant hillside. She drug the boxes through the door, two at a time, then over to the elevator to get to her classroom on the third floor. She wished she hadn't forgotten the dolly again. As she waited for the elevator, she grabbed a bottled water from the vending machine, then hauled everything into the classroom. It was usually a biology lab that she was assigned, since she would need access to a water supply to condition the fresh items they would be using throughout the ten week course. She sorted through the design elements, counting equal amounts for each of the students. After she had all the materials separated for them, she went back to park her car in her assigned space. Even though there would be no deliveries or the need for anyone else to use the dock, she still wouldn't feel right just letting her car block it. She grabbed her books and locked the doors, taking one last look at the darkening sky.
As she entered the classroom for the second time, she saw a few of the students already getting their buckets of water and tools ready for the evening. They stopped to greet her, continuing to chat about what they did in the past week among each other. They usually included her in the conversations, but tonight they didn't. It seemed odd, but she dismissed it quickly, instead placing her things on the elevated desk and workspace at the front of the class. She silenced her cell, and got out her colorful dry erase pens that she would be using to illustrate things on the board for which they might need a visual aid. Next, she got her notes out to write the assignment for next week in the left corner on the board like she always did for them.
Every Wednesday she had to erase the formulas and math equations from the boards that were left there by the calculus class that met immediately before hers, so she grabbed for the eraser. The calculations were always in black, but tonight when looked up to the board from the eraser's ledge, she was surprised to be met by a sea of blue marker. As she looked at the image, something looked familiar, yet unfamiliar, or maybe just out of place. She took a step back to get a better overall view, then turned her head first to the left, then the right. A gasp emerged form her lips which everyone else heard. Her hand covered her mouth before she quickly pulled it away, reaching down to grab the eraser that had fallen to the floor. The class became silent. Her face grew a deep red blush, and she promptly erased the image.
She turned to the class, which were mostly middle aged or older women. With her face beet red, she said to them, "I am so sorry you had to see that. I apologize that I hadn't seen it when I first entered with our things, or it would have been gone already." They started to chuckle, after 12 weeks of classes with her, they knew she was easily embarrassed, and then continued on with their tasks.
She could not believe someone would have the nerve to recreate that particular piece of art work on her board. She tried to compose herself and write their assignment, but found she was having quite a bit of difficulty transposing the words from her notebook onto the board being this flustered. She vividly recalled seeing the image years before.
***
She and her husband were just dating then, and on their first date. They went out with friends the night before and were introduced through them. They got along really well, and made plans to go to the museum after a Sunday brunch. As he walked alongside her, she paused in front of a huge canvas all in blue. There were various shades of blue, but it was truly monochromatic with no other colors but the faintest hint of black or white present on it. She viewed the soft and flowing lines, standing up close to take in the motion of the brush strokes. It was easily fifteen feet by twenty in size. Blue wasn't her favorite color, but for some reason she was drawn to it.
David stood at the other end of the exhibit hall, just observing her taking in the painting. She was clearly intrigued by what she thought was abstract art. In reality, and if she had stepped back to see the entire expanse at once, she would have seen the museum patrons along with the security guard looking at her amusedly. She was up close and personal with an electric blue replica of a vagina, in its full glory, complete with clitoris and droplets of dew. The close up image was so large that there was none of the legs or torso evident on the canvas. The only object on the entire thing was just the huge pussy, and she was staring straight at it, for an inappropriately long time.
"Chelsea." It was a long while before he finally called her name. The people were all still watching her, looking to him to see what would happen next. "Chels," he called to her again, "back up about 20 feet and look from that angle." She turned her head slowly toward him. She had been an art student with over four years of high school courses and two years in college classes. She was so lost in the lines, movement, and balance of the abstract work that it took her a second to snap out of it and do as he suggested.
She looked behind herself to make sure there was no one in her path before turning to the painting again. She slowly backed up, seeing the picture shrink in front of her, gradually viewing the whole thing. As the subject matter came together in a cohesive form to her, she said in a voice a little too loudly, "Oh my God!"
Her face flushed bright red, and her eyes darted directly to him while her hands flew to her hot cheeks, her heart pounding in her chest. A look near horror had shown on her face as she barely heard the snickers and laughter of those who stood immediately around her. He could hardly contain himself as he walked over to her to put his arm around her. Was she really this naïve? It was things like these that he would remember and burst out laughing at inopportune moments later.
"When I suggested our date for this morning, I thought we would get to know each other a little better through the conversation. I had no idea the trip here would be so much more enlightening. I didn't know you were so into the female anatomy, Chelsea," he said to her, still chuckling. "Maybe you should explore that some other time in the future and hopefully in a little more private place."
"You know I couldn't possibly tell from that close what it was!" she snapped back at him. His eyes danced with laughter as he leaned in, wrapping both arms around her giving her a hug. She sighed now as her embarrassment started to fade slightly. "I didn't think that's what it was," she said a little softer, her head lowering into a pout at her predicament.
"You don't have to be embarrassed at it. I just thought it was comical because from the vantage point I and the others had, it looked like you were ready to crawl right in there and get up close and personal with it."
"Real funny," she replied swatting him on the arm. "I can't believe you let me stand there like that with all of these people around. What must they think? And on a Sunday after they all have been to church!"
"Judging from their reaction, they thought it was quite humorous, just like I did."
