Naed Portraits

Welcome to part three Literotica reader. Hope you are having fun. I am, erotic writing is wonderfully therapeutic, soothes like a back rub and cures shitty job syndrome.

Notes on part two:

The mysterious statue hidden deep in Iao Valley on the Island of Maui plays a big role in Gwen's artistic shift. On the flash drive, several different sources referred to the statue so I went on line to see it for myself but I couldn't find anything. I looked up an old college buddy who happens to live on Maui and asked him about it. He says he has never heard of it. I suggested that the statue might be off the beaten path somewhere but my friend swears up and down that if the statue I described was on his island everyone would know about it. I was disappointed but he promised to call me if he found out anything.

The story of Hawk and the sexy redhead, Anna Grayson in California was another long aside that my editor Boston begged me to shorten. Call me a fool but I didn't listen. Information on Hawk was abundant on the flash drive but Anna Grayson only appeared that one time. I couldn't resist putting a spotlight on her. Enough of my notes, go read the story. See you again with part four. Please vote and drop me a comment.

Thanks,

Eagelwolf

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Chapter 18 Inquiring Minds

A little after ten on Thursday morning, I stepped into the art office to pick up my work-study check. On the way out, I bumped into Den Kang the figure painting instructor. He gave me a small smile and a microscopic bow just as Erma Beaumont my mentor and head of the painting department stepped in. I cursed the lousy timing and desperately sought out something to look at to avoid Beaumont's accusing stare. My eyes found the painting hanging in the entryway of the office.

I must have passed the painting a billion times in my two years here at Honolulu University but never took the time to really look at it until now. It was a still life of a newspaper, a square of chocolate brownie, and a paper cup of steaming coffee. It was beautifully executed in a style reminiscent of Edouard Manet. Automatically, I looked for a signature but found none.

On my peripheral, I felt Erma Beaumont's eyes on me.

Professor Kang joined me at the paining in the entryway. He said in his usual gruff manner "So powerful the ordinary and commonplace."

"And so pointless," Erma added joining us in front of the painting.

Kang sniffed and said, "A painting of pure abstraction and void of all human interaction would be more to your liking I wager."

Anticipating the start of a legendary Kang and Beaumont artistic confrontation, I tucked my head and slipped out as fast as I could. Their fights were on the scale of Mothera and Godzilla. In my flight, I passed the Common's Gallery next to the art office.

The Commons Gallery is a long roughly triangular shaped space with fourteen foot high portable walls. Two sides of the triangular room was all glass giving the place a fish tank feel. Inside I saw Paul Gleason, my fellow graduate student sitting at the front desk. He was reading a book, a big no-no with the gallery coordinator, Mr. Akai. Seeing Paul sparked a memory. He was in the charcoal drawing class I tutored and he had made friends with the skinny grunge guy I was strangely attracted to.

Poor Paul had the misfortune of getting Professor Kang as the head of his portfolio review board. Twenty minutes into Paul's first review, Kang forced marched him into the beginning drawing class that I tutor. In front of the whole class, Kang scolded Paul for his shameful lack of basic drawing skills. Humiliated, Paul sat down with the beginners. I felt real bad for him but secretly agreed with Kang's assessment of Paul's serious lack of drawing skills. Thus bringing up the old question again, how the hell did Paul get accepted as a grad? He must have some serious dirt on a member of the grad comity was my only guess. Anyway, Paul had became chummy with grunge guy. Embarrassingly, I didn't know grunge guy's name even after months of being his TA. I entered the gallery to remedy that problem.

Paul was so engrossed in his book, he didn't notice me standing in front of him. "What you reading?" I asked.

"What?" he said looking up startled. He saw it was me and said in an oddly guilty tone, "H.G. Wells, Time Machine."

"Don't worry," I said. "I won't tell Mr. Akai you were reading on duty." Then trying to sound as casual, I asked, "Paul? What's the name of that skinny guy with the beard in the drawing class that mooches cigarettes off you all the time?"

"Matthew Anderson," he said marking his book and putting it aside.

"Where he from?"

"Midwest. He's from Ohio just outside Cleveland." Paul's eyes narrowed at my questioning. "You done with the surfer guy you dating?" A look of hope flashed in his eyes.

"Forget it, Hawk's still my man," I informed him.

"Too bad. What you asking about Matt for then?"

To avoid pointless questions I concocted a plausible lie on the spot. "One of the printmaking girls likes him."

"Tell your girlfriend to ask the guy herself," he answered in crusty New Yorker fashion.

"She's too shy. You've been talking to the guy. Tell me some stuff," I persisted.

"All right, all right I'll do it for you. What you wanna know?"

How old is he?"

"Twenty."

"Awai!" He's that young?" I asked surprised.

"Your friend older? She a cougar or somethin'?"

"What's his major?" I asked ignoring his comment. Cougar indeed!

"English. He wants to be a writer when he grows up."

"Girlfriend?"

"Broke up this summer. Girl back in Ohio dumped him for his best friend. The poor slob got an ex-girlfriend and an ex-best friend in one shitty move."

Rebound, I thought unsure if that were good or bad.

"So," Paul said, "this girlfriend? She local? She hot or what?"

"She's Japanese hot and sexy," I said vainly.

"You can tell her I'm available."

"I will but she doesn't like crusty New Yorker types."

"Ouch," he said looking hurt.

"Don't tell the Matthew guy about this. I don't wanna get his hopes up in case my friend backs down okay?"

"Like a Tahitian, it's mums the word," he said. "By the way, I'm doing a paper on Jasper Johns in Kleckner's class. I need my book back."

"Sure," I said, "I read most of it. Good stuff."

"I'd like to see that self-portrait you did again."

I rolled my eyes knowing that he would bring up the painting at some point. "I bet you would," I said and then added casually, "I'll ask Hawk how he feels about that?"

"Hey, no need to bring in the muscle bound surfer boyfriend," Paul said, "I was just askin'. The painting is real good is all. Has nothin' to do with the fact that it's a naked portrait of you."

I laughed at his bald ass lies and turn to leave. As I was about to step out, my eyes fell on a small painting on the floor next to Paul's foot.

"You did that?" I asked pointing at the little painting sure that he couldn't have, it looked too good.

"I wish," Paul said confirming my doubt. "I bought it off an artist at Ala Moana Park the first week I was here. I liked it but didn't have much money. The artist chick kept lowering the price every time I tried to walk away. At fifteen bucks I said yeah." He picked up the painting and looked at it in wonder. "The chick that sold it was about my age but this painting is way older. I took it up to the art restoration teacher. Just by lookin' he said it might have been painted in the forties or fifties.

Paul handed me the painting and I gave it a critical once over. It was an oil painting of a beach with a distinctive rock overhang. The style made me think of a Hopper landscape. A red circle with what an odd symbol in it filled the right hand corner. "Whoever painted this was very good," I said.

"The signature looks Asian," Paul said. "Can you read it?"

It was some sort of script in a rough circle. "I don't think it's a Japanese character," I said. A strange feeling rippled through me as I thought, Is it possible that it's the same symbol I found on the belly of the forest goddess?

"You okay?" Paul asked.

"Just a case of chicken skin," I said.

"What?" Paul asked with a half laugh.

"Chicken skin, what you call goosebumps on the mainland." I gave the painting back to him. "See you in drawing class," I said and left the gallery.

Chapter 19 Seduction 101

I clacked away at Hawk's laptop writing a paper comparing the modern art movement to the post-modern. My head was nowhere in the room as I though of Matthew Anderson the grunge dude from Ohio. A cunnilingus

On the computer screen the words deconstruction and appropriation floated unattached to anything, absolutely meaningless, totally pointless. I blinked, confused as to why I had typed them. Then my neglected academic brain shot the gap and I remembered why and I hit the keys with fresh insight. Deconstruction and appropriation are the fundamental foundations of the post-modern movement. Deconstruct! Take everything apart in every possible way: politically, socially, academically, racially, emotionally, and sexually. Take nothing at face value. Appropriate! Pick and chose the pieces of human experience that excite you. Combine science with comedy! Cave painting and quantum physics! Mozart and racial inequality! It's no holds bar! Damn the modernist vanguard's torpedoes! This is trench warfare with thousands of fronts, maybe millions!

Thank you academic brain, I thought as I hit save.

"Come read this," I said to Hawk.

He slid off the bed and read what I had just written.

"Not bad but you might wanna cut back on the exclamation points," he said. He sat back down on the bed.

"Wanna hear some stuff on the Mathew guy?" I asked.

"Do I have a choice?" he asked as he lay back down to read.

"No you don't," I said. "I made a point of hanging with Paul during the mid class breaks. He smokes and Matthew bums cigarettes off him." I laughed. "Paul always complains calling Matt a freeloading punk but never turns him down. Matt's funny and smart. He makes light of his break up with his girlfriend over the summer but I can tell he has a serious broken heart on his hands. I've decided to invite him to the art grad beach party."

"You making your move at the party?" Hawk asked.

"No, he just seems kind of lonely and needs to get out."

"Wear that light blue one piece suit. That should perk the guy's interest."

"You like that suit because of how see through it gets when it's wet," I said with a snort.

"Fuck yeah," he said. "No bones about that."

"Oh there's a bone alright," I said. As always we were studying naked. I stood and gratuitously stretched before him and watched him bone up before my eyes.

**********

On the day of the art grad beach gathering, I arranged to drive Matthew to the party in Hawk's Bronco. Hawk would hitch a ride with someone else to allow me some time alone with the guy.

"Watch out, the guy may like you," Hawk said as he handed me the keys to his Bronco.

"Isn't that the point?" I said as I got into the driver's seat.

"I'm not sure what the point to this is," he said.

He opened the driver's side back door and piled in a cooler full of beer followed by plastic containers of sushi, musubi, teriyaki chicken drumsticks and thighs. I was in charge of the food for the party this year.

"If you say stop it stops," I said seriously a bit put out. We had been discussing this for weeks and only now he decides to express his feelings?

"It's cool. See you soon," he said as he walked to the back of the Bronco and took out his surfboard.

It wasn't cool I could tell and I quietly fumed as I drove to Matthew's dorm building. Hawk probably thought that this Matthew thing would simply cool down and go away, and to be honest, I though it would too. But it didn't and kept bounced around inside my skull like a fat fly at a windowsill. In fact, it was Hawk's story of his little orgy back in California with the redhead that kept me sparked. See, it's your fault I'm doing this, I thought having no problem putting all the blame on Hawk.

But why this Matthew guy? I had to honestly ask myself. He was too skinny, hair too long. I wouldn't call him handsome and he looked very much twenty, and for some bizarre reason, when he smiled he looked disturbingly younger. I liked the scruffy beard but hated his Midwestern slacker dress code that consisted mostly of short sleeve button-down shirts, jeans and work boots. In the islands, the look really stood out.

Matthew stood waiting for me outside his dorm building. I sighed at the sight of him. He wore an unbuttoned flannel shirt (Flannel at the beach? Really?) over a black t-shirt, denim cargo shorts with too many pockets and dirty sneakers with no socks. All that was missing was a black ski cap. At least he was wearing shorts.

I waved at him and he got in.

"Where's Paul?" He asked.

"Sculpture grads have a dinner to go to first," I said. "He'll come by later."

We hardly spoke as I maneuvered through the dorm's back streets to University Avenue. Once on University, I gunned it to the H-1 entrance. As I drove, he kept stealing glances at me. Today, I dug out my more fashionable pair of wire frame glasses and applied a little bit of eye makeup. Under the long shapeless baggy t-shirt, I wore my secret weapon, the one-piece blue bathing suit that Hawk liked.

"This your car?" he asked.

"No it's my boyfriend's. You'd think that after O.J. the white Ford Bronco would have gone extinct."

"Actually, I hear that sales spiked after the bizarre getaway," he said.

I turned to comment and caught him looking at me intently. He immediately looked away. You're Busted I thought with a satisfied smile.

"Even the interstate is more beautiful than anything in Byle, Ohio," he said obviously making conversation.

"Your Home town is named Bile?" I asked with a laugh.

"That's B-y-l-e. It's named after some Civil War general."

"I'll Google it to see if you're lying."

"Why does Oahu have an interstate?" Matthew asked with a frown. "I mean what other state are you connected too?"

"Good question. And not only that, we have three of them. H-1, H-2 and H-3."

"Man, how did they sell that to the tax payers?"

"And we did it long before the highway to nowhere in Alaska," I added with dubious pride.

He laughed. The conversation lagged and I drove in silence for a little while. To get the conversation rolling again, I asked, "So how did you find your way to the islands?"

"At my small college in Ohio, I entered an essay competition," he said. "The prize was an all paid exchange to a western school. Honolulu University was on the list."

"Must have been one hell of an essay. What was it about?"

"I wrote about winter in my home comparing an average February day to the worst day in Hawaii. Hawaii won hands down. The title of the piece was F*** Snow I'm Going to Hawaii!"

I swerved a little from laughing.

"My essay teach made me retitled the paper to Winter Sucks and I'm going to Hawaii.

"You broke up with your girl friend over the summer, right?"

"Yeah," He said and went quiet.

Open the guys old wound and rub in some salt why don't you? I thought miserably. I'm so fucking stupid!

"I'm, sorry," I apologized. "I'm being too forward."

"It's okay, I'm through it."

I could tell that it was a lie. Quickly changed the subject, I asked "Were there any Asian people in Byle?"

"Not a one."

"So what do you think of Asian girls then?"

"Ah ... interesting." He said hesitantly. After a pause he added, "Your friend still interested in me?"

"What?" I asked.

"Paul told me about your Japanese friend from printmaking."

Confused by his question, I looked at him blankly. Then I remember my little cover up lie with Paul and I moaned. "Fucking Paul, I told him not to tell!"

"So I take it that your friend's not interested?" he asked.

"Yes, I mean no! Oh, I'm gonna kick Paul's okole!"

"I'm assuming okole means ass," he said. "Don't worry it's cool," he said obviously disappointment.

We drove the rest of the way in relative silence. We arrived at the beach party and he helped me unload the food. Aside from me, Matthew didn't know a soul at the party. I introduced him around to help him relax. Annoyingly, Hawk was out to sea on his board. He's not here on purpose I fumed.

A few minutes later almost everyone at the party charged toward the ocean, some were armed with Boggie boards and surfboards. Those who didn't go swimming started a volleyball game. Matthew settled onto a picnic table to watch the volleyball players.

Time for launch phase two of my seduction.

I strategically stood nearby and pulled my long t-shirt over my head giving Matthew a first glimpse of the light-blue one-piece bathing suit. Taking my sweet time tying up my hair, I stole a backward glance pleased that he was checking out my ass. Look all you want Mr. Anderson, I thought with a smug little smile.

"My boyfriend Hawk is out on the water on his board," I said. "He's a real surf nut and lives to surf." I turned to face Matthew. He quickly pointed his eyes to the shore pretending to look for Hawk on his board. "Ready for a swim?" I asked.

"I can't swim," He said sliding his hands into his lap nervously pulling at the material of his cargo shorts.

I felt stupid. It hadn't occurred to me that he couldn't swim. Lacking a contingent plan, I said, "Ah, help yourself to beer and food and I'll see you in a little bit then."

I jogged toward the shore and waded in up to my waist. The water level dropped and pulled at my legs as a small mountain of water formed in front of me. I broke into a short run and dove into the on coming wave just as it peaked. The sound of the wave breaking above me was gloriously deafening. I relaxed allowing the Pacific Ocean to have its way with me, happy to be swallowed up whole for as long as I could hold my breath. When my head broke the surface I found Hawk at my side bobbing on his board.

"Where's the Matthew guy?" he asked.

"He can't swim," I said.

Hawk gave a small laugh. "Even so, he could still wade in with you a little couldn't he?"

"He's afraid of the water. I think he has hydrophobia or something," I pushed my wet hair back and hung on to the edge of his board.

"That would be rabies. Is he foaming at the mouth?" Hawk teased.

I splashed him for being a wise ass. He kicked water back at me.

"How goes the seduction?" he asked.

"Not so good. I keep stepping on my own tongue."

"I can't believe how much you suck at this."

"I seduced you didn't I?"

"By stripping naked and sucking my tongue out of my head. Hardly subtle."

We bobbed and rolled with a swell. It occurred to me that beautiful charming Hawk knew a lot more about seduction than I ever would.

"What should I do?" I asked.

"Relax, stop trying. He's male and already attracted to you so you don't have to do a thing. When you get out of the water he'll be watching, so do the slow motion Bo Derrick run."

"Run in slow motion? Really? How the hell do I do that?"

"Don't worry, all guys have a built-in slow mo' button." He put a foot on my shoulder and gave a gentle shove. I acted like he had given me a serious kick and backed away with a dramatic splash. He laughed, kick water at my head then paddled out to sea to catch some waves.

I rode the next wave to shore then headed back to the art grad gathering. Although I felt foolish doing it, I broke into a light jog. I laughed a little as I imagined myself moving in slow motion. But I'd venture to say that with my slim B-cups, I will never ever produce the bounce that Bo Derrick had in her glorious moment of fame.

I spied Matthew sitting on a towel in the sand shaded by a clump of coconut trees with a beer in his hands. As Revel's Bolero sounding in my head, I headed in his direction. A quick downward glance filled me with dismay for my dark brown nipples were totally visible through the wet material. That is why Hawk likes this suit so much; I may as well be naked! Thank goodness I took the time to bikini trim. A wave of self-consciousness blanketed me and my eyes darted around to make sure no one but Matthew was looking. Hawk was right, I suck at this seduction stuff.