Gallery Of Desires Pt 01

Author's Note: All characters, events, and places described in this narrative are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

All comments and feedback are welcomed.

HF

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Sarah sat on the toilet, her foot nervously tapping on the tiled floor as she waited for the result to appear on the small white plastic tester. This had been a monthly routine for her for nearly eighteen months -- eighteen months of testing, of tracking her temperatures, of monitoring the texture and consistency of her cervical mucus. Eighteen months of nothing so far. Maybe today is the day, she thought hopefully to herself.

She could still picture their wedding in her mind, the pair of them being introduced to all their family and friends at the reception: Mr. Anthony and Mrs. Sarah Whitmore. It had been an amazing, almost perfect, romance for them, having met at a mutual friend's dinner party seven years ago. They had immediate bonded over their shared love of travel and fine dining and, over the following two years, had dated, travelled the world, and enjoyed each other's company. Then, on a special night in June five years ago, as they were enjoying a candle lit dinner in their favorite little restaurant in Rome, he'd gotten down on one knee, a small box in his hand.

Sarah had burst out in tears, wrapping her arms around Anthony's neck, and pulling him close as she kissed him passionately on the lips. Six months after that memorable night, they were married and all the good things in life had started to come to them: her dream job as a curator of her own gallery, his success as an investment banker in the City, a lovely, tastefully decorated Victorian townhouse in Kensington, just a short walk from Kensington Gardens. The only thing that they hadn't received was the one thing Sarah wanted most: a family.

She'd stopped taking her birth control pills immediately after the wedding, both agreeing that they would let nature take its course. Nature did take its course, just not in the way that either of them had planned. After several months of trying to fall pregnant with no success, they had sought the advice of their doctor. A battery of testing later and they held the results in their shaking hands. There were no problems with Sarah's fertility, but Anthony had a significantly decreased quality and quantity of sperm, complicating the ability for Sarah to fall pregnant.

More testing had revealed the underlying issue being a medical condition known as varicocele, a varicose vein condition that affects the veins within the scrotum. Realizing that he was the cause of the difficulties they were facing in conceiving had hit Anthony hard. They had tried a number of treatments, including surgery, and lifestyle changes but, so far, to no avail.

The surgery had improved his sperm count slightly but not enough to guarantee a successful conception. Their doctors had all given them the same advice, for her continue to track her cycle and attempt to conceive around the time of ovulation.

Unfortunately, this had taken a heavy toll on their marriage. Soon, their discussions had gone from starting a family to how they could do everything to maximize their chances to conceive. This pressure did nothing to help either of them in the bedroom, as they both felt they needed to perform and, when the monthly results came back negative, it hit them both hard each time.

A further complicating factor that hampered their attempts to conceive was Anthony's work schedule, which involved frequent overseas travel and long hours in the office. The stress and pressure of his job, combined with the emotional toll of his condition, frequently left him exhausted and distant, not interested in Sarah's attempts to coax him to bed. This distance between them only grew over time, leaving Sarah feeling increasingly lonely and neglected as she focused on her own career to fill the gaps in their marriage.

Soon their lovemaking became another routine that they had to perform; their encounters marked as fixed dates in their calendars, all spontaneity gone, a continuous cycle of testing and, so far, failure.

Sarah glanced at the timer on her phone as it ran down to zero. This time had to be the one, she thought. She knew her cycle down to a tee by now and around the time she ovulated several weeks earlier, she had almost dragged Anthony to the bedroom to make love. His performance could be best described as lackluster, but he'd gone through the motions, doing his part the best he could. The moment of truth, she thought to herself as she stood up from the toilet and looked at the tester sitting on the bench next to the sink. Her heart sank when she saw the result: negative.

With another sigh of despair and regret, Sarah threw the kit in the rubbish bin and washed her hands in the sink. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, feeling a sense of hopelessness. The figure that stared back at her with bright green eyes should have been happy, should have had the world at her feet.

At 34 years of age and working in her dream job, Sarah should have been happy. She had been blessed with a pretty face, long ginger-colored hair, fair skin with a light dusting of freckles and a figure that she worked hard to keep at a very curvy 36-26-38. She recalled the nights of passion she and Anthony had shared when they first started dating, when he couldn't keep his hands off her body: making love under the stars on a beach in the Bahamas, the naughty skinny dip in the hotel pool in New York and that memorable night in Rome when Anthony had taken her from behind in a darkened back alley.

However, it wasn't just her body but also her full, round breasts that had been the source of great pleasure and enjoyment for both Sarah and her partners. They were approximately 36D in size with a soft, natural sag and topped by light pink areolas that were about 4cm across. In the center of each disc were her deliciously sensitive pale pink nipples that protruded slightly from the surrounding skin. She loved nothing more than having her breasts played with when she made love to her husband.

Her gaze moved down briefly over her pale stomach towards her pubic mound, covered by a small, neatly trimmed patch of sparse, soft ginger-colored curls while below it her labia majora were slightly fuller, with a pinkish hue, while the labia minora were a more delicate and darker pink, peeking slightly out from the labia majora. Her fingers traced lightly over her sparse hair. Do I need to trim this, she thought?

Deciding against the need to trim it any further, she turned her attention to the shower so that she could start to get ready for the day ahead. Turning the taps, she let the water warm up for a moment before stepping under its warm embrace. She washed her body quickly and efficiently using her favorite lavender-scented body wash and shampoo before allowing herself the luxury of a minute under the warm water.

Reluctantly, she stepped from the warmth of the shower and quickly dried herself off with a plush towel before starting her skincare routine to protect and nourish her pale skin. She started with a gentle cleanser, followed by a toner to refresh her skin all over her face. She then applied a serum and moisturizer to complete the routine.

From the bathroom, she returned to the bedroom to get dressed. Pulling open her lingerie drawer, she paused for a moment, inspecting the items, before selecting a black lace balconette bra from Agent Provocateur and a pair of matching lace briefs. From the bottom drawer the selected a pair of black Wolford Satin Touch 20 tights. Quickly dressing in her undergarments, and rolling her tights up her pale legs, she moved to the wardrobe to find an outfit for the day.

She eventually went with a silk blouse from Equipment in a soft, blush pink color, that she paired with a high-waisted, knee-length black pencil skirt from Burberry. To finish the outfit, she selected a tailored blazer from Alexander McQueen that she wore unbuttoned. Glancing out the window, Sarah noted that it had the hallmarks of a lovely summer's morning in London, and she selected a pair of sleek, black ballet flats by Tory Burch to wear as she travelled to work. When she got to work she would change into her favorite classic black pumps from Christian Louboutin with a 3-inch heel that she kept in her office.

Her clothing choices sorted for the day, Sarah moved to her vanity and quickly dried her hair, styling it into a neat bun. She then applied her makeup: foundation, concealer, a touch of blush, neutral eyeshadow, mascara, and a soft pink lipstick. The routine was efficient but made her feel polished and confident. She smiled at the reflection looking back at her from the vanity mirror, placing the façade on her face that she used to hide the disappointment that constantly tugged at the back of her mind. If only they knew, she thought as she looked at her reflection in the vanity mirror.

The house was quiet as Sarah made her way to the kitchen. Anthony was away in New York for several days to close a major mergers and acquisitions deal, having flown out the day before. Sarah had dropped him at Heathrow airport, a perfunctory kiss on the lips as they'd said goodbye. In the kitchen, she prepared a light, healthy breakfast consisting of a bowl of yogurt with granola and fresh fruit, accompanied by a cup of green tea. Sitting in silence at the kitchen island, she checked her phone for any urgent emails or messages, enjoying the last few moments of peace and quiet before her workday began in earnest.

Her calendar was full: another painting was arriving that morning, and she had a meeting with a number of benefactors after lunch, followed by a discussion with the restoration team about the changes to their work area as part of the renovations of the gallery. Her thoughts turned to the ongoing renovations and the image of Michael Harper popped into her mind.

The tall, well-build Black man looked more like a male model than an architect and project manager for one of London's most sought after architectural firms. Sarah still had no idea how the owners of the gallery, Lord and Lady Pembroke, had been able to secure the services of such a prestigious firm and she knew that it was costing them a small fortune. But from what had been done already, Sarah was convinced it was worth every penny.

Leading the renovation effort was Michael, who had helped with the design and was now responsible for coordinating and project managing the renovation works. Even just thinking about Michael brought a small shiver of delight to Sarah. Unlike many other architects that she'd met in London through her work at the gallery and in the broader community, Michael was black, the son of migrants from Jamaica. Despite the cosmopolitan nature of contemporary London, Sarah and Anthony's friend group was overwhelmingly white, and it was an interesting and enjoyable experience to get to know someone different like Michael over the past several weeks while the renovations took place.

Finishing her breakfast, she washed the bowl and cup in the sink, leaving them to dry on the rack before collecting her handbag. A quick check to confirm all the contents and a once over to ensure the windows and doors were closed and Sarah was on her way to work.

It was a short walk to the bus stop near the High Street Station in Kensington and Sarah was fortunate to find a seat. She watched out the window as the bus trundled along past Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park, through Kingsbridge and Belgravia until it stopped, and she alighted at Green Park. Enjoying the warm morning sun, a rarity in London, she made her way to the gallery, pausing to glance up at the sign above the entrance: Pembroke Fine Arts, before making her way to the service entrance at the rear where she could access her office.

Entering the building, she heard the distant sounds of banging of hammers and the whine of electric saws, and as she made her way to her office, she greeting the other staff members as she passed them. Dropping her bag next to her desk, she hung up her blazer on the coat rack and swapped out her flats for her pumps and logged in to her computer. She gave a little sigh as the emails started to appear in her inbox. Checking her calendar, she knew she'd have to go and ensure the arrival of the new painting went smoothly and she realized she'd likely be stuck for most of the morning behind her desk, working on emails, reviewing the quarterly budgetary plan and getting ready for the meetings in the afternoon. I'd better go and check in on the renovations while I still have a chance, she thought to herself.

When she arrived in the main gallery it was a hive of activity as the renovation work continued unabated. The noise of drills, hammers, and the murmur of tradesmen filled the air, in stark contrast to the normal church-like silence of the gallery. Dust hung in the air as light streamed through the tall windows, creating an almost ethereal glow. Michael stood amid it all, overseeing the work with a keen eye, his clipboard in hand. His tall, dark body commanded respect and he moved confidently among the workers, giving instructions, and ensuring everything was running smoothly and in accordance with the architectural plans.

Sarah walked in, her heels clicking on the polished marble floor. She smiled as she approached Michael, who turned to greet her, taking in the sight of her dressed in a sleek, black pencil skirt and a crisp light pink blouse, her red hair tied back in a neat bun.

"Good morning, Michael," she said, her voice warm and cheerful.

"Morning, Sarah," Michael replied, smiling back. "How's your day starting?"

"Oh, you know, the usual madness. Emails, meetings, more emails," she laughed, the warmth coming through in her voice, despite the pressures in her personal life that weighed at the back of her mind. "How's everything going here?"

"We're making good progress," Michael said, nodding towards the collection of tradesmen who were busily working on the renovations around the gallery. "We should be ready for the next phase by the end of the week."

"That's great to hear. You've been doing an amazing job," Sarah said with a nod, her eyes lingering for a moment longer on his strong frame. She'd realized that she'd been looking at him a bit more frequently over the past few days. With a start, she realized that when she did, it helped her forget the other issues in her life.

"Thank you," Michael said, a hint of pride in his voice. "It's been a team effort."

Sarah glanced around at the work being done, then back at Michael. "It must be quite a challenge managing all this," she said, stepping a little closer.

"It has its moments," Michael admitted, his brown eyes meeting her green ones. "But I enjoy it. Keeps me on my toes."

"I can imagine," Sarah said, her smile widening. "I don't know how you do it, keeping everything under control like this."

"It's all about balance," Michael said, his gaze steady. "Knowing when to push and when to pull back."

"Is that your secret?" Sarah asked playfully. "Balance?"

"One of them," Michael said, a slow grin spreading across his face. "You pick up a few tricks along the way."

"Care to share any of those tricks?" Sarah asked, her tone almost flirtatious.

"Well," Michael said, lowering his voice slightly, "maybe over a drink sometime."

Sarah's eyes sparkled with intrigue. "I might just take you up on that," she said softly.

Michael's smile broadened. "I'll hold you to it."

They stood there for a moment, the noise of the gallery seeming to fade into the background as they held each other's gaze. "So, is there anything you wanted to look at with the renovations?" Michael asked, breaking the silence after a moment.

"I just wanted to check on the progress and see if there's anything you need from my end," Sarah said, her professional tone returning, though her eyes still held a playful glint.

"Actually, there is one thing," Michael said, glancing down at his clipboard. "We're a bit short on some materials. I was going to call, but since you're here..."

"Just let me know what you need, and I'll get it sorted," Sarah said, pulling out her phone to make a note.

Michael listed the materials, and Sarah typed them into her phone, not noticing Michael's eyes wandering over her pale, curvy body.

"Got it," Sarah said, looking up and catching Michael's gaze. He smiled at her as she did. "I'll get on it right away," she told him.

"Thanks, Sarah. I appreciate it," Michael said with sincerity.

"No problems at all," Sarah said, lowering her phone. "Anything else?"

"Just your company," Michael said with a wink.

Sarah laughed, a sound that made Michael smile grow wider. "You're quite the charmer, Michael."

"I try," Michael said, now grinning at her. "Is it working?"

"Maybe," Sarah said teasingly as she raised her eyebrows. "You'll have to keep trying to find out."

"I'm up for the challenge," Michael said, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Well...I should get back to my emails," Sarah said reluctantly, glancing towards the stairs that led down to her office on the lower floor.

"Of course," Michael said, stepping aside. "But don't be a stranger. I enjoy our chats."

"So do I," Sarah admitted, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "See you later, Michael."

"See you, Sarah," Michael said, watching her walk away, her hips swaying gently.

As Sarah made her way back to her office, she couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement. There was something about Michael that drew her in, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. She smiled to herself, looking forward to their next conversation, the anticipation of what might come next adding a spark to her step.

The next few days continued unabated for Sarah, a frantic whirlwind of activities as the gallery continued its operations with new artwork coming in, old artwork being restored and potential buyers browsing the collection. Throughout all of this, the renovations continued, ably guided by Michael. The subtle flirting that had started over the past few weeks continued to grow between the pair and soon Sarah was coming to look forward to seeing him every day at the gallery.

Despite the enjoyment that she found in their conversations, she realized that she was hiding from the truth about what was happening in her marriage. The resentment that continued to grow between her and Anthony was palpable, even when he was away. That Friday night, with Anthony home from his work trip, Sarah was in an unhappy mood. Her period had started that afternoon, confirming what the pregnancy test had told her several days earlier.

On Friday night, Sarah and Anthony found themselves in their living room, a soft glow from the table lamp casting a warm, relaxing light over the room, a bottle of wine sitting on the coffee table. It was the type of evening they had experienced dozens, if not hundreds, of times before. A night where they could enjoy each other's company over some wine. Anthony had just returned from a week-long business trip to New York, and Sarah had been looking forward to his return, hoping that they could reconnect. Yet, as she felt the familiar cramps and the dull ache in her lower abdomen, she was reminded once again that they had failed to conceive this month, and this bitter pill cast a cloud over her and her mood.

Anthony leaned back on the couch, loosening his tie as he let out a long sigh of relief. "It's good to be home," he said, his voice tired but genuine.

Sarah forced a smile, trying as hard as she could to hide her disappointment about the test result. "I'm glad you're back," she replied, her voice wavering slightly. "How was New York?"