Jean The Birth Of Venus Ch 09

Jean and the Birth of Venus

Part 9: Jean on Display

This story takes place in 1976 before there were cell phones and personal computers.

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Chapter 17

I was dazed from the barbiturates and lost somewhere inside my head. I barely noticed the crowds while I was on display. My naked exhibitions had gone from terrifying to boring in just two days. My thoughts drifted to my time with Steve earlier in the summer. My boyfriend is a scientist, and he meticulously recorded every one of our sexual encounters on his wall calendar. I decided to see if I could recall every one of the seventy-nine times, we had made love during my short visit. I thought I was doing well when I remembered all but six. I went through the days again and managed to recall a couple more. I would have gone over my pleasant visit with my boyfriend again, but it was time for a rest break.

My next shift, I decided to recall all my sexual encounters during my first year at law school. It was a pathetic list. Despite my agreement with Steve to be open to dating others while we were apart, I had only managed to have sex six times with four different guys. I tried to remember the details of each. Only one of the guys had been worth doing it more than once. That jerk broke up with me and started an affair with the cutest guy in class. Just my luck that the gay guy was better in bed than the rest of my partners who were either unlikable assholes or incompetent. I didn't feel like training any of them to satisfy my needs.

I was upset by the time I was able to rest in my changing room at the end of the day. Maggie had added only five tick marks to my chart for the day's work despite having been on display for seven sessions. Before I could protest, she gave me the news that the long grueling day wasn't over.

She said, "Nice work, Jean. You managed five flawless hours today. The Exhibition is closed for the day, but the Board of Directors wants to inspect each of the exhibits tonight. The LA Times will be here tomorrow to produce an article for next Sunday's paper. Their review is critical to the Exhibition's success. After dinner, we'll go back to the Exhibition Hall for a couple of hours. Don't worry, you'll get community service credit for tonight and tomorrow.

I guess I should have felt annoyed since we were supposed to have Mondays off, but I didn't give a shit. If I had my drugs, I was good to go. Once I was back in my pose, I noticed that the glass panel that normally separated me from the crowd had been removed. I had to wait two hours for the Board members to make their rounds of all the other exhibits first. When they got to me, there was an argument going on between Michael and Trish, the only member with an art background.

Trish said, "The idea of the Exhibition is to accurately reproduce works of art. Paintings and sculptures are static. Any perception of motion is implied from the elements in the artwork. Here in this year's centerpiece, you resort to a fan blowing the hair of Venus. Botticelli showed the impression of the wind through the placement of her hair and the billowing robes held by Hora. You have also introduced an exhibit based upon the sculpture "The Dancers," where you have the actors actually moving. Sculptures don't move."

"If that wasn't bad enough, your exhibit with the porn star and my naive daughter isn't even based upon a work of art. I have no idea how you convinced my modest little girl to take part in your disgusting farce. She refuses to talk to me about it."

Michael said, "I haven't heard anyone complain about introducing dynamic elements or our homage to Hustler except for a few hidebound critics. The audiences love it."

Trish's face was beat red as she said, "The audience also likes pornography. So, you made sure every one of the exhibits this year is focused on nudity and even put my daughter into a piece of performance art that is pure pornography. You are pandering to the lowest common denominator. Do you even know the difference between pornography and eroticism?"

Michael said, "I don't give a shit, and I doubt any of our visitors gives a shit. What the fuck is wrong with giving the audience what they want? Our goal is to make money to support the hospital. In case you forgot, this year's theme is 'Erotica in Art Through the Ages.' The public loves nudity. We're here tonight because I want to tweak the exhibits to make them even more appealing. The world has changed a lot since these artworks were produced. These days, people will compare our exhibit to what they see in magazines like Playboy and Hustler. We need to keep up with the times."

Trish said, "I won't have any part in corrupting art masterpieces. You might as well have an exhibit of strippers and pole dancers."

Trish stomped off. None of the other Board members tried to stop her.

Michael turned to look at my exhibit. He talked to the remaining board members as if I wasn't even there. "At the time, each of these works was produced, they were the most extreme examples of pornography in the world. Many of them were kept hidden in the bedrooms of the noblemen who commissioned them. I would like to bring back the excitement these works elicited in viewers at the time they were originally painted. I want the LA Times' readers to be excited. If the media give us good press, we might even double last year's attendance."

Manu said, "What do you have in mind?"

"It won't take any major changes. For example, in 'The Birth of Venus,' all we need to do is change the positions of the goddess' hands a couple of inches. I think her right hand should be offering her breast instead of covering it. The thumb and forefinger should be fondling her nipple."

Michael reached into the exhibit and adjusted my hand. I stared my uncle in the eye and wished looks could kill. I felt my breathing speed up as he rolled my fingertips around my already hard nipple.

"I want her left-hand lower to expose more of her slit."

Michael pushed my hand to the bottom of my pussy. My index and middle fingertips were pressed against the opening to my vagina. Inside the long braid of my golden blond wig, there was a stiff wire that was attached to a ring on my middle finger. He pulled off the ring and slipped it on my lowest finger to expose most of my hairless pussy. I hadn't been aware of how aroused I was until I looked down and saw my clit was protruding from the top of my moist slit. In the original artwork, only one of Venus' breasts was exposed, and her sex was completely hidden. Now, little of my body remained hidden.

I said, "Oh god, Michael. Please don't make me do this."

Dorthey laughed. "Michael, your niece thinks you've gone too far. Look at her. She's about to die of shame. Well, too bad for her. I think she's delicious. Personally, I think if you're using Hustler as your ideal, you haven't gone far enough. Allow me to suggest another slight change."

She pushed Michael aside and gripped my index and middle fingers. She pushed them deep inside my wet pussy. I gasped as my fingers penetrated my sex. My pussy was now fully exposed, and it was clear to everyone that my fingers were buried in my vagina all the way to my knuckles. Dorthey moved to the side so Michael could see what she had done to the goddess of love.

Dorthey said, "The current issues of Hustler have centerfolds with wide open beavers. Their models are aroused, and their engorged pussies are in full flower. I think that is the look we should go for."

While she talked, she ran her fingers up and down my hairless slit. I shook each time her now wet fingertips slid across my clit. I closed my eyes to hide from the gaze of the leering men. I felt her fingers grasp each of my labia in turn and slide up and down the engorged lips. She spread me open, exposing my pink inner folds. My breathing raced as she brought me close to an orgasm. I cried out when she stopped.

My eyes flew open when she repositioned my thumb, so it was pressed against my clit. I stared down at my sex. Except for my clit, my flowering pussy was exposed. The wind blowing on my long golden braid made my hand quiver, and my thumb was jiggling my clit. The fingers in my vagina were vibrating against my G-spot. I closed my eyes and moaned. I felt my arousal growing close to a climax. I was so doped up on codeine and barbiturates that I didn't care who saw me come. My body shook, and I screamed out my release. I would have collapsed in a heap except for the support rod between my thighs. As it was, my feet did a little dance, and I almost slid off the rod. Thankfully, Dorthey caught me before I collapsed. The moisture flowing down my bare thighs felt cold with the fan blowing on my legs. I shivered from the aftereffects of my orgasm.

Michael said, "Nice work, Dorthey. I love the idea of having the actresses fully aroused, and I bet the LA Times will love it. I can't wait to see their photographs. When they feature us in the Los Angeles Sunday Magazine, our reservation phones are going to be swamped."

Dorthey said, "All we need are twelve fluffers. I can easily handle Venus. I have plenty of women friends who will be happy to help with the other exhibits."

Michael laughed, "I'm sure your friends would love to help, but I see a problem if we try to maintain their arousal for the public. Are you proposing closing each exhibit every half-hour to have a fluffer arouse our actors? Maybe we can arrange for a simpler solution."

Michael turned to the festival engineer and asked, "I think we can use vibrators to keep our actors aroused without the need to bring in fluffers. How hard would it be to hide a wire running up the support rod? I think her fingers would hide the wire between her legs. I'll bet we can do something similar for the other exhibits."

The engineer nodded his head and said, "It will take me a few days to come up with a prototype controller, but I don't know squat about vibrators. It would help if I had someone who could help me test the device."

Dorthey said, "Well, you are in luck. I am a world class expert in dildos and vibrators. As much as I hate to give up on the idea of fluffers, I'll be glad to work with the engineer on selecting and testing the appropriate vibrators. We certainly can't spare one of the actresses for the engineer's testing."

Michael said, "Thanks, Dorthey. I guess you'll have to be happy with fluffing for the photoshoot. Hope you can handle all the exhibits because we don't have time to bring in your friends."

Dorthey sighed, "My pleasure, Michael. I promise to do my best fluffing for the media. However, before you go, I just thought of something that could raise a lot of money for the hospital. If we put the vibrators on a timer controlled by the audience, we can charge a few bucks each time to turn on the vibrator."

I watched my uncle smile at Dorthey and say, "I love the idea, and I'm sure our guests will love it even more."

He glanced at the engineer who nodded his consent to the design change before my uncle turned to the Board members, "Do you think we'll have any legal issues?"

The District Attorney said, "In the past, we never had more than one nude exhibit. We kept it closed off to minors. This year, we have a sign in front of the ticket booth stating no one under eighteen is allowed into the Exhibition Hall. We set up a daycare facility so tourists with children under eighteen can view the Exhibition while their children play. We've even added video games for the older children.

The judge said, "I think we're good. In the past, we've had the ACLU defend our Exhibition on a freedom of speech defense. Just to be sure, we gave out free passes to anyone with enough political clout to shut us down.

Michael said, "I think we are ready for tomorrow. Maybe Dorthey and our engineer could stay behind. We need to take another look at the other exhibits to figure out how we are going to run some wires."

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Chapter 18

The next day, the LA Times arrived early along with a handful of other media companies. They took most of the day taking photographs and conducting interviews with the Exhibition Board of Directors. A cable TV station took movies. For my photo session, Dorthey got me close to an orgasm, and the TV crew recorded a video of me once again coming on my fingers as the fan blew across my long braid. A couple of weeks later, I learned how much publicity the photoshoot generated. The press across the United States picked up the LA Times' article, and soon the rest of the world picked up on the piece with its salacious photographs. Except for the underground press, all the photographs were censored with the important bits concealed under black rectangles. The uncensored video was restricted to X rated movie theaters.

Of course, my Mom saw the article when it appeared in the NY Times, but she refused to believe it was me. The Exhibition publicity department had said it was a matter of policy and declined to release the real names of the actors to the press. My Mom was amused that a young woman who looked a bit like me was participating in an art festival in Southern California. She knew I was with Steve in Northern California hundreds of miles away.

Dorthey forced me to write weekly letters to my Mom, saying how much I was enjoying my summer with Steve. I also wrote letters to Steve talking about my summer in Ithaca, NY, working in the hospital. The letters allowed Steve and my Mom to stay safe in their fantasy worlds. I knew Steve was busy working at Eglin Air Force Base in Florida, but I had no idea my divorced Mom was too occupied with a new man in her life to be suspicious about me missing my summer job at the Ithaca Hospital. Neither of them could have helped me even if they weren't so preoccupied that they didn't worry about not being able to reach me on the phone.