The Artist

This is part two of the story and it's one of the only times I wished I'd written the whole thing as one story, I think it would've read better. You could read pt 1 (only 1400 words) or here's a little background. Mulqueen is a once revered artist who's past his sell by date, he gets asked to present certificates at his old art school as is confronted by his past. There's no sex in this story, just challenging characters and dollops of nudity. Enjoy x

Mulqueen's brain was in turmoil. The previous day he'd learnt that he was the father of twenty year old twins. They had performed naked in a piece of performance art, slowly turning on a pedestal whilst their mother, Isobel, had sat hidden in the shadows, sketching them. It was designed to shock, arouse and challenge the audience. It certainly did that.

It was also designed with him in mind. The irony of one who had spouted on for years about the need for art to shock and challenge being confronted with his own past in such a way was not lost on him, only his hangover preventing him laughing out loud.

When he'd spoken to Isobel the night before she'd confirmed that Siobhan and Patrick were his and that they had always known who their father was and that it was their decision to meet him now and that confronting him with their existence in such a dramatic way had been Siobhan's idea which both Patrick and Isobel had gone along with. He'd asked if he could meet and talk with them and Isobel had said they were busy with the exhibition but would meet him that afternoon when it finished.

A knot in Mulqueen's stomach was telling him he didn't need this in his life, that whilst he might be their biological father, he wasn't really their father. He didn't know them or anything about them and had no feelings about them. He should just go back to London and forget about them.

Once upon a time he would probably have done that, but sitting there trying to make sense of it all he knew he would stay around and meet them, however that might turn out.

Isobel texted the name of a café, saying the twins would be there at 6pm. He looked up the café to get directions and saw that it actually closed at six, a bit strange but so was this whole bloody situation.

He arrived ten minutes early and saw there were no customers there, just a middle aged woman who was cleaning up, readying to close for the evening. "You must be Siobhan and Patrick's dad, take a seat, they should be here shortly."

Mulqueen nodded and sat down, wondering how many other people knew about him. The twins arrived at exactly six, Siobhan full of chat as she greeted the woman warmly, Patrick more subdued and nervous, looking anywhere but at Mulqueen.

Siobhan saw the woman to the door, giving her a hug before locking it after her. She squeezed Patrick's hand reassuringly before they both sat down across the table from Mulqueen and finally spoke to him.

"So you found it ok."

Mulqueen just nodded, struggling to say even simple words. Patrick looked as nervous as him but Siobhan seemed to have no such problems, seemingly at ease with the situation.

"We want to celebrate the success of the exhibition, we're having some wine, want some?"

Again he just nodded as he watched Siobhan go behind the counter and come back with a bottle of red and three glasses. She poured the wine and raised her glass, about to call a toast but then stopping herself.

"What did you think of our exhibit?" She asked him.

"It was amazing, very special."

"One of the big galleries from Newcastle has asked us to exhibit there, first time they've ever offered that to students."

"Wow, that's good. It'll be very intense for you two, having to be naked for so long and in front of a lot more people, although I'm sure it'll be very popular." Mulqueen couldn't help himself, smirking a little as he said this.

They both obviously understood what he meant, Patrick's expression changing for the first time as he smiled.

"How did you find it, being looked at, being so exposed?"

"I loved it. I think I must be dehydrated, my fanny juices have been running down my leg for the past two days. I think Patrick got a bit bored, even stopped getting a hard-on when people pressed number two."

"Except when it was a good looking girl, then I made sure it was extra hard." It was the first time Patrick spoke and it felt like a strange thing to say.

"Patrick thinks it was just about sex and people wanting to see big dicks and shaven cunts, his words, not mine."

"Siobhan thinks people were attracted just for the artistic aesthetic."

"Philistine!"

"Dweeb!"

Mulqueen knew what he thought but didn't want to get involved in the argument, delighted when they both burst out laughing.

"I know you pressed number two." Siobhan said in a half mocking, half challenging way. Mulqueen thought back, the number two button playing sounds of people having rampant, passionate, almost violent sex in the models ears, making them tense and react. Siobhan's nipples and Patrick's cock leaving the observer in no doubt as to its effect.

"Yes I did, I imagine most people did."

"At least 95% I reckon." Siobhan said this with a giggle.

"How many people came and saw it."

"Mum was keeping count, somewhere between eighty and ninety."

Mulqueen raised a toast, 'here's to being popular." Thankfully they got his sense of humour and smiled.

They fell into an uneasy silence, all knowing that there were a lot more things to talk about. Eventually, as always seems to happen, Mulqueen and Siobhan went to speak at the same time, Siobhan insisting that he went first.

"I had no idea that Isobel, your mum, was pregnant when we split up. I'm sorry."

"Mum says you were a complete prick in those days, alright in the sack but otherwise a waste of space."

Not for the first time Mulqueen wondered how much of what Siobhan said was said just for effect, to see how he'd react.

"She was probably right."

"Are you still the same."

"No I'm not, now I'm not even good in the sack." Mulqueen knew he was avoiding the question but they smiled and didn't seem to mind.

Patrick spoke next and surprised Mulqueen with his question. "Are you happy that we contacted you?"

He'd thought about it but even so he surprised himself with his honest answer, "Yes I am. I don't know how it's going to work out but I'm really happy that I've met you."

"Siobhan wanted to meet you but I didn't, she has a way of persuading me."

"You just wanted to see me butt naked."

"You never lock the bathroom door so that's no challenge."

They both burst out laughing and Mulqueen wondered about them, about their relationship. He also found that he really liked them, their honesty and openness.

They talked for ages, the first bottle of wine being replaced by a second and Siobhan explaining that she worked at the café and the owner, who Mulqueen had met earlier, had said they could stay as long as they wanted.

The conversation flowed, the wine helped and even Patrick opened up a bit. They didn't pretend to be best buddies or even to know a lot about each other but there was definitely a connection and they seemed to get on. It got to the stage of the evening where they had to decide what would happen next. Patrick said he was back at college the next day doing his engineering course but Siobhan said she was free and could they meet again, Mulqueen was delighted.

It was a nice warm day and Mulqueen felt happier and more upbeat than he had in years as he spent the morning walking around the town, memories coming back from when he'd lived there twenty years before. He'd arranged to meet Siobhan at one for lunch and even considered getting his wild, unkempt hair cut, deciding with a smile that that might be a step too far.

They met in a pub that Siobhan had suggested. It was busier than he expected, with a lot of office workers having their lunch, but it turned out that a small table in the corner had been reserved for them, Siobhan leaning across the bar and giving the barman, a man in his late twenties, a full bloodied kiss on the lips when he pointed it out to them.

"Boyfriend?" Mulqueen asked.

"No, just a friend." Mulqueen just nodded his head when she looked at him as if to say 'what?'

Mulqueen had considered ordering a coke so as not to seem like the pisshead that many believed him to be but Siobhan beat him to it, ordering two pints of cider. "It's made just around the corner, strong stuff but really good." She informed him. He nodded again and managed to hide his smile.

A waitress came over and Siobhan stood up and cuddled her, chatting and then ordering for both of them without even asking him what he wanted.

"I know the chef, he does an incredible burger and the chips are tripled cooked and to die for."

"You seem to know everyone in town."

"I've slept with half of them. That one," Siobhan sniggered and pointed to the waitress "wanted me to fuck her up the ass with a strap-on, dirty cow. I couldn't manage it, too much like bloody hard work."

The shock factor again, Mulqueen ignored it and raised his glass, "Cheers and thanks for meeting me again."

They both took a drink of their cider, which Mulqueen had to admit was very nice, falling into a not too uncomfortable silence as they waited for their food.

The food came and was as good as she'd promised. They ordered another round of drinks and sat there, eating and talking about food and just getting to know each other. The pub was now much quieter, a few, who looked like hardened drinkers, sat at the bar and them in the corner.

"Another pint?" Siobhan asked. Mulqueen didn't mind but was wondering whether Siobhan would be okay drinking such strong stuff, at the same time not wanting their meeting to end. He said yes but when the pints came he suggested taking their time drinking them so that they wouldn't be too drunk and could carry on talking.

He half expected her to call him a lightweight or challenge him to a drinking contest but she didn't, instead smiling at him and taking a much smaller sup of her cider than she had done previously.

They chatted away, Siobhan explaining that it was her mum Isobel who was signed up as a student at the art college and not her, she been there when she was eighteen but had dropped out after less than a term, finding it too constrictive. He knew about Isobel being at the college from the certificates he'd handed out the night before, but not about Siobhan's situation.

"That's a shame. I suppose it doesn't suit everyone and some great artist never had any formal training. You have great ideas and great creativity. I hope you continue with your art."

"Thank you, I can't draw the way that mum does or paint the way that you do but I have found a way of expressing myself and am actually starting to make a bit of money at it."

"That's great, how so?"

"The world has changed, now you can sell your work directly over the net, I have ideas or take commissions and then collaborate with artists and photographers. I've built up a little following and have a couple of enthusiastic patrons."

"Wow, that brilliant. Do you have any examples of your work?"

For the first time Siobhan seemed a little hesitant. Mulqueen was tempted to say something to help her but stopped himself, letting her make up her own mind. She began to scroll through her phone, eventually handing it to him.

It was a black and white photograph of a naked woman, the subject almost thrown across an unmade bed. Mulqueen had seen many such photos, but the use of shadow and light and the look of anguish on Siobhan's partially obscured face raised it to a different level, erotic and challenging in equal measure.

"That's really good, he or she is a very talented photographer."

"It's a he, John. He's sixty five if he's a day and is technically very good but he has no imagination, doing weddings and baby photo's all his life. I go to him with an idea, tell him what I'm looking for and we work out how to do it. That photo took nearly an hour to get right."

Mulqueen nodded, thinking he understood, "So what, then you sell it on the internet."

"Sort of, people are keeping art on their computers now days instead of putting it up on walls. In that instance I digitally signed it as the artist and model, giving an explanation and some background and gave John the photography credits. There were twenty digital copies available and I sold them within a week at twenty pounds each, four hundred quid that I gave John one hundred and fifty of."

Mulqueen was impressed, she clearly had her head screwed on. "So are you an artist or a model?"

"Both I suppose. I think of myself more as an artist that uses her body as her subject."

"I suppose it doesn't hurt that you're young and beautiful and have a great body." Mulqueen hated himself even before the words had left his mouth, knowing that he'd always used the best looking models he could find, all the better to sleep with, also. She was a talented artist and he shouldn't belittle it.

Thankfully Siobhan didn't seem to take offence. "Of course it doesn't hurt but I like to think that if people are paying money for my images then they must appreciate the art, you can get porn for free and they have better bodies than me."

Mulqueen thought 'not many of them do' but held his tongue, knowing that wasn't the sort of encouragement or reassurance that was appropriate or needed.

"Even when I'm pushing the boundaries I think it's still art rather than porn."

This time he couldn't hold his tongue, "pushing the boundaries how?"

Maybe it was the alcohol that made Siobhan cheeks redden as she scrolled through her phone, but he didn't think so. Eventually she settled on an image and nervously passed it to him, for the first time not holding eye contact.

A young black man with the darkest skin Mulqueen had ever seen was stood facing a very pale looking Siobhan, both of them staring into each other's faces, both of them naked, Siobhan's outstretched hand wrapped around a very hard looking erection.

It was startling, erotic and very beautiful. "That's amazing, definitely art rather than porn."

Emboldened and obviously pleased by his reaction she scrolled to another image, "What about this one?"

Siobhan was on her knees, the makeup and lighting done to highlight her amazing cheek bones and her partners' hard black penis that was just touching her nose, her pink tongue protruding slightly, almost cheekily from her lips.

Mulqueen was shocked and aroused, managing through dry lips "Art." And then amazing himself and anyone who had ever met him by saying "What did your mother think of this?"

Siobhan burst out laughing, looking straight at him as she said, "Mum didn't mind, she'd had him before me."

Mulqueen didn't know if she was just trying to shock him again or whether it was true, it didn't matter. He knew he was in no position to lecture her or anyone else on morals or good behavior but a bit of him wanted to. He didn't, instead becoming sullenly silent.

Siobhan was still smiling at him, he struggled to smile back, only the absurdity of the situation cheering him a little. She leant into her bag and brought out an A4 artist pad, as she handed it to him she said, "He didn't you know?"

"Didn't what?"

"Sleep with me and mum, Phil's a student on mums course, definitely more interested in boys than girls, mores the pity." Now he couldn't help but smile, she was irrepressible.

"What do you think of those?" She asked, pointing to the pad.

It was drawings of Siobhan and Patrick that he presumed Isobel had done during the exhibition. There were six in total, from different angles as they turned, but all definitely from the same talented hand. They were incredible, passion, eroticism and beauty all captured in a few lines and some shading.

"Mum has ten in total that she's happy with, she's letting me sell these six and keeping the other four for the family. I reached out to a regular customer in the states who buys a lot of my images on line. I think it's a man but I'm not sure as they pay via a company account and their online profile gives nothing away.

I explained about the exhibition and the brother/sister posing, mother drawing scenario and it piqued their interest. Sent then some photos of the drawings and they're buying the six drawings for two thousand pounds. Mum says me and Patrick can split it as our twenty first birthday presents."

"I think they're worth more than two thousand."

"I think so too but mums an unknown artist and it's maybe a bit niche and risqué so she says two grand is a fair price."

Mulqueen nodded, knowing good art doesn't always get the recognition or price it deserves. "When are you twenty one?"

"Two months time." Mulqueen nodded again, the answer bringing him back to the present, his brain a mess of emotions and feelings that he was struggling to make sense of, the three strong pints not really helping.

"You're a well known artist, quite famous really."

Through the fog of his brain it took Mulqueen a moment to realize where this conversation could be going. Before he could say anything Siobhan stood and went to the bathroom, returning with another pint for him but nothing for herself, half her previous pint not yet drunk. He didn't really want the drink but knew he'd drink it.

"I'm not drawing or painting you."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not. It wouldn't be right, I wouldn't feel right."

"But surely it's about the beauty of the human form, expressed and brought to life by the artist. Maybe I'm not beautiful or interesting enough for you to want to paint."

He didn't even bother justifying that with an answer, instead just staring almost pleadingly at Siobhan, imploring her not to push him.

But she wasn't done, "Maybe you're past it, when was the last time you produced a painting that anyone was interested in or thought was good?" Her temper was rising and with it her goading, she started quoting some of the shit he'd said in interviews years before, when journalists wanted to know what he thought.

Normally he'd tell someone to 'go fuck themselves' and walk out, but he didn't want to, instead managing to keep his temper under control as he said "Stop!"

He hadn't shouted but the force of his word made even some of the drunks at the bar turn and look. Siobhan's stopped talking, her temper still visible in her scowl and fierce eyes, tears not far away.

"Listen to me." Mulqueen looked into her eyes, making her hold his gaze, finding her hand in his as her breathing slowed. "You're right, I don't know if I'd be able to paint you, to do justice to your beauty, to bring out your incredible spirit. But me being past it is not the reason. I've only just met you and I don't want to lose you. Painting you could be too weird and create barriers between us."

"What a load of old bollocks." Mulqueen didn't know what response he was expecting but it wasn't that, the smile on Siobhan's face forcing one onto his. "I don't think you're passed it, you just haven't had any inspiration. I'll be your inspiration. It'll take you hours to paint me and I never shut up, we'll talk and get to know each other." He couldn't help but feel that he'd been had, as if Siobhan had controlled the whole conversation from the start. He didn't mind.

"You can paint in the nude if you want." She was back to goading him, "Didn't you say in an interview once that you like to paint in the nude, some bollocks about the artist and the model being as one."

"I was lying."

"Thought so."

They arranged that Siobhan would come to London the next week and stay with him, no promises made about the painting but Mulqueen knew that she'd get her way. Before he left and travelled back to London, Mulqueen met with Patrick who said he was happy they'd met but didn't want him as part of his life. It was harsh but he couldn't blame him.