Infernal Gray Ch 05

Sherry slowly, and she hoped silently, turned the key in the lock. Click. She held her heels in her left hand as she opened the door, and crept through the dark living room, heading for the stairs.

A light flicked on. "So," said her mother. "How'd it go?"

Sherry froze. She had a good idea of what she must look like, heels in hand, one leg bent, the other on tiptoes as she'd been trying to reduce the chance of creaking the floor boards. Caught, she stopped, adopted what she hoped was a natural pose, and forced a smile. Her mother was sitting in the recliner where she often read books, right next to the light switch.

"Oh, hi Mom! I was trying not to wake you up."

"I could see that," Nicole said drily.

A good offense was the best defense, right? "Of course I didn't know you'd be lying in ambush."

"Ambush?" Nicole asked, with unconvincing innocence. "I just fell asleep on my book, that's all." She waved the latest thriller, a hardback from the library, as evidence.

"Uh-huh," Sherry said. "Well, goodnight Mom!"

"How'd it go?" Nicole asked.

Sherry turned. "Fine."

"How so fine?"

Sherry sighed. "Mom. I was at a club where people have sex. You know that, and I know that. Are you really asking your daughter if she got laid?"

Nicole blinked. "Um, yes?"

"Yes, then, I got laid by a very nice, very red, and very big - in all senses of the word - demon." Sherry watched her mother's expression, and decided that if she was going to be nosy, she deserved what she got. "Actually, technically, does it count as 'being laid' if you're on top? Because I straddled him and -"

"Got it," Nicole said, cutting her off. "No one mistreated you? That's what I was getting at."

"No one mistreated me Mom. I met a nice demon right off, and I think he kinda protected me."

Nicole smirked. Now what was that about, Sherry wondered. "Okay, sweetie. Goodnight."

Sherry turned to go up the stairs, eager to escape.

"Was that the same demon who you had sex with?" Nicole asked.

"Goodnight mom!" Sherry yelled, and kept going.

But that wasn't the end of it. The next morning, Nicole made waffles - Sherry's favorite. But the waffles came with more questions. What sort of horns did the demons have? Was sex with demons really as fantastic as people said? Sherry avoided giving names, but she couldn't help but let out that one of the demons was a talented artist, and she was actually going to show her portfolio to him on Tuesday. That, surely, was innocuous enough.

"Is he married?"

Sherry saw a chance to head off a line of thought, and she took it. "Yes. She was right there the whole time, never left his side really."

"Ah," Nicole said. Was that a sigh of relief? "Is she very pretty?"

Sherry considered. "I'd say she was very pretty. I mean, older, of course. She must be at least thirty!"

"Oh. Quite. Positively ancient."

"That is not what I said."

"Not with your words, perhaps. I take it the demon was similarly advanced in age."

Sherry shrugged. "I suppose so. There's something about older men, though, isn't there?"

Nicole chuckled. "Something about younger men, too - uh, never mind."

"Dad was a lot older than you."

"So he was. But you're just showing your portfolio, right, so what does that have to do with it?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing." Sherry reached out and patted her mom on the hand. "And it's okay about the younger men. You're still pretty hot, Mom, and there's no reason you shouldn't be having fun. I just think neither of us needs to know the details about each other, right? I mean, whatever stories you have to tell about younger men, you'd rather keep them to yourself and not have me pry, right?"

"Right," Nicole said.

Sherry breathed a sigh of relief.

The relief lasted until Tuesday, when Sherry got in the car to go to Gray's. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, to avoid nosy questions from her mother, and she had her portfolio and a laptop on the passenger seat next to her. A lot of her stuff was digital. Her heart was pounding.

She had a deal she wanted to make with Gray. A deal with the devil? Maybe. She was sexually attracted to him, for sure. But she also wanted to become a better artist, and she was convinced that he could make her one. For that, she'd do anything. And if the anything happened to be pleasurable, well, that worked.

He might hate her work.

He might drive too hard a bargain or be uninterested in giving her all of what she wanted.

She'd been nervous on dates before. And nervous about showing her work to a respected professor. But this was all that, wrapped up in one, along with possibly the best or worst decision she'd made in her life.

Maybe she should have talked it all over with her mom, after all, but parents had a way of saying no to anything that involved a risk. She couldn't, in fact, think of anyone she could talk it over with. Model would understand one side of it, but of course she'd be very biased. None of the girls she knew at school, nor her professors, quite qualified either. She felt remarkably alone.

She took the laptop with her into the fast-food restaurant, as well as the bag of clothes she'd stashed in the trunk the day before. T-shirts and jeans might be right for leaving the house in, but they'd hardly do for what she had in mind. In the bathroom, she changed into a short purple dress, with just a bit of cleavage. More, if she leaned forward, because it was a little loose in front, without being shapeless. She applied lipstick. She changed out socks and tennis shoes for three-inch heels. She checked her hair in the mirror.

Then she hurried out and continued on her way.

He lived in a perfectly normal suburban neighborhood, not unlike the one she left: houses, lawns, cars parked in driveways and on the street. His house was normal, too, squarish and two-story, with a walkway made of concrete squares and a porch. Her heart was still pounding when she rang the doorbell. What did she have to offer? Her body. And if she didn't get what she wanted, was she really going to say no to sex with Gray? No. Sex in the club had been fantastic and amazing and she'd never came so hard in her life. She might not have a ton of experience, but it had been so much better that it seemed unlikely to her that anyone but an infernal could give her as good a time.

And he probably had girls throwing themselves at him regularly, anyway. There were plenty of beautiful girls in the club. It all came down to her art, really, which still had a long way to go. She wouldn't have the biggest tits or the brightest smile or the longest legs, but maybe, just maybe, he'd like her art.

The door opened, and she saw Model. The other girl was almost naked, with just a skimpy G-string on, and of course the collar. One arm held the door while the other crossed her chest. "Hi! Come right in! Quick so we don't give the neighbors too much of a show."

"Oh. Yes, of course."

Sherry walked in. An ordinary living room. A couple of landscapes on the wall. A sketch pad on the coffee table. A couch, a recliner.

"My Master is working," Model said. "I'll let him know you're here. He gets very focused, so it may be a bit until he reaches a break point." She indicated the couch. "Hopefully it won't be long."

Sherry nodded, and watched Model walk away without sitting down. Model had such a taut, firm ass, and her back was flawless. She made Sherry feel fat, even though she had been told a dozen times with words, and hundreds of times with stares, that her curves were pleasing. Still, if Model was Gray's type, well, Sherry wasn't Model.

She looked at the landscapes. They weren't what she expected, although they were fine examples of the type. In the corner, though, each had the distinctive signature, the one word: "Gray." Of course he hadn't learned to paint overnight, so he had to be painting something before the day when demons first appeared, less than two years ago.

She took a couple of steps, from which she could see the dining room, and another painting, although she could only see it sidelong. Still, it was more of the kind of work the world had come to associate with Grayson Harding, a picture of a woman lying on a table, naked, in sharp focus. Demons and beautiful women cavorted in the background, but it was clear that woman on the table was the point of it. The woman was recognizably Model, who appeared in so much of the recent work she had studied. Yeah, the athletically built woman was his type alright.

"He'll be out soon," Model said, coming from a hall to her left.

"No rush."

Model followed her gaze. "It's rather interesting, living in a house with a naked picture of oneself on constant display. But then, I rarely wear clothes here, either. And Gray and Betty don't have guests over that often." She paused. "I forgot, would you like a hug?"

"Sure, I could use one," said Sherry. It was a little odd feeling, with Model practically naked and all, but it was rather nice, too. She had felt comfortable with the slave girl immediately upon meeting her, and giving a two-girl blowjob together was a bonding experience. She let Model guide her to the couch, and they sat down.

"You're nervous," Model said. "He's kind of intimidating, isn't he?"

Sherry nodded.

"But he's nice, too. Sometimes I think he's too nice."

"Too nice?" Sherry echoed.

"Well, when he's strict, or selfish, I feel - well, extra owned. It's a lovely feeling, and maybe it's not for everyone." Model touched her collar. "But I didn't get this to be an equal, you know? And I'm not. Anyway, he's - I think we're both learning, what it means to be master and slave. And being with him is just wonderful."

Sherry smiled. "I'm glad," she said.

But what if he doesn't like my art? Will he be too nice, and I'll just be left wondering?

"You want it, don't you?" Model asked.

"Hmm?"

"To be owned."

Sherry blinked. "Well," she said. "I might consider it."

Model's eyes twinkled. "It's not up to me, of course. But I'd love to have you as a sister. Betty's nice, but it's not the same, with her being free, and his wife, and me - well. I think he should have more than just me. And I think you are exactly what he needs."

"Me?" Sherry asked. "But you're so fit and, well."

"No sense in having two models exactly the same, is there?" Model said. "Seriously, I - well, I don't know what you know, but -"

"Hello, Sherry," said a deep voice.

It wasn't a demon standing there, but a man with blonde hair, jeans, and a faded black T-shirt. There were dabs of paint on the shirt and the jeans, and he looked to be in the late thirties. He was tall, and handsome, and closer to her mother's age than hers.

"Uh, hi."

He took in her look, and chuckled. "I don't walk around red and half-naked all day long, I'm afraid. You were expecting something else?"

"I wasn't thinking, I guess," Sherry said.

Model slid off the couch and took a spot on the floor, and Gray sat down in the spot which she vacated. "Did you have a good trip over here?" he asked.

"Fine," she said, aware that she often used the same one-word answer with her mom.

"Want anything to drink? Cocktail, soda, water?"

"A Coke, maybe?" she asked.

Gray glanced at Model, who immediately got up and headed out of the room.

"You're nervous," Gray said. "Don't be. You're an attractive young woman, and you're studying at a prestigious art school. You have talent or you wouldn't be there. You're about to show your work, the best work you've done, presumably. It's probably better than anything you did two years ago, isn't it?"

"Yes, I think so."

"And what you did two years ago impressed your teachers, and the school, right?"

"Right."

"So there's no point in being nervous. Show me."

She took a deep breath, and reached for the portfolio. "Some of it's on the computer. I do most of my work digitally, but these are some of the things I did in traditional media."

He nodded and gestured to the coffee table. She started taking things out and laying them in front of him. Model put a cola on a coaster on the near left corner of the table, and a water for Gray on the right, and then resumed her place on the floor.

"You did this after you did that," Gray said. "I can tell you developed your technique. You should take this one out of your portfolio."

"Oh. But it won a prize, and." She left the sentence unfinished.

"But you've gotten better since then." He set the prize-winner to the side, and she set out more pieces.

"Not your best media, I think," he said of a portrait in pastels, and set it with the prize-winner.

"A portfolio is supposed to show some range," she said.

"Some," he agreed. "You skipped over one. Let me see."

Sherry blushed. "Well, it's kind of embarrassing," she said.

Gray grinned.

"He likes embarrassed girls," Model said.

Come to think of it, while Gray's recent work was full of wanton behavior by women around demons, they did look more abashed than brazen. In any case, there was nothing she could do about it. She took out the piece she'd skipped, a watercolor and ink of a naked demon striding through a hellish landscape.

Gray coughed. "That's almost rather good, actually."

"Almost," Sherry echoed.

"Do you know what's not right about it?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I suppose it's all rather adolescent of me, isn't it?" She knew her face was turning red.

"That's a word, I suppose. One can tell that you were rather more interested in drawing some parts of the demon's anatomy than others."

And then she saw it. The detail of the big red cock, compared to everything else. Even the face seemed almost cartoony by comparison.

She turned redder.

"It shows talent," Gray said. "And you can learn." He put an arm around her, for a moment, before taking it away. It was avuncular rather than intimate. "Confidence! Show me the digital stuff."

She booted up her computer. The wait while it started was agonizing. Since she'd gone digital most of her work had been about demons, and a lot of it was imitative of Gray's own work.

Eventually, it booted up. She showed him some digital paintings she'd done, fine art kind of stuff. Demons and luscious ladies. A few demon women, too, with buff naked human men at their feet. God, one of them was just like a painting of Gray's but with a demon female instead of the demon male, and a man instead of a woman at her feet. She hoped he wouldn't notice that she'd copied the pose.

He chuckled when he saw it. "Looks familiar, somehow," he said, with an amused look in his eyes. He reached past her and clicked on a link.

"I - well, that stuff is just silliness, I didn't want to bother you with it," she said.

A comic strip she'd done appeared on the screen. More demons, with human women. It was done comic style, so the coloring was sharply defined, and the ink carried a lot of the form. He read it and clicked to the next one. And then the next one.

"You really don't have to," she said.

"You see this in every cartoonist's work. The first Peanuts, or the first Foxtrot strips, for instance. The first few are rough, and then the artist figures out what to leave in, what to leave out. And it's amazing how fast that progress happens. I can see it already with yours."

She wished she'd managed to leave it out of the whole presentation, but instead he was looking at the fourth strip, featuring a woman getting fucked in the ass while yelling that she was demon only for life. For the next half-hour she sat, beet red, while he read strip after strip of demon debauchery, with giant cocks that seemed to always be hard and large breasted women who were always willing.

"You enjoy doing these," he said.

"They are, well, just a nice thing to do on the side," she said. "Nothing serious. You needn't -"

"No," he said. "These are really good. Like I said, you enjoy them. It shows, just like I can tell you loved drawing that one penis. This is something you're passionate about."

"It's just -" she started. He wasn't wrong. They were her reward for getting through her assignments. She enjoyed the way comics told a story, even if it wasn't the most complicated of stories. "Yes. I suppose you're right. Silly of me, isn't it?"

He shrugged. "Who cares? They're good."

"Really?"

"Really."

"I -"

"But they could be better."

She nodded. "Of course."

"If you want to show me your work now and then, I'll be glad to comment," he said. "I don't know that I have time for anything more than that."

She nodded. "That would be, well, very nice, and I'd be grateful of course, but - um."

"Um?"

"I have an offer to make."

He turned to face her, and just raised his eyebrows.

"God," said Sherry. "It sounded so straightforward, and now it seems so awkward."

"Maybe you should just say it."

"Well, the other night, that was amazing. I shouldn't tell you that, because, well, anyway, it was. There are two things I want in this world, now, where there was only one."

"Yes?"

"The most important one is that I just want to become the best artist I can. I love making art. Even if it's just those comics."

"Especially if it's those comics?"

"Maybe," she admitted.

"And what's the second thing?"

"I want more of what we did that other night, in the club."

He nodded. "I'm happy to fuck you, Sherry. Here, now."

She nodded. "I - yes. I mean, yes. But yes. Um, what I'm saying is - if you'll mentor me, I'll be yours. Anytime. Anyplace."

Gray's smile reached his eyes. "So if I help you with the first thing you want, in return I get to help you with the second thing?"

"Yes. No. I'm putting this badly," Sherry said. She pointed to Model. "Like her. Yours. Collared. Just as long as I can keep learning to be the best artist I can be."

"You want to be my slave?"

"Yes. I mean, I will. If you will help me with the rest."

"What if I told you to stop doing those comics you call silly."

"Then -" Sherry took a breath. "Then I'd probably try to do them in secret, and when you caught me I suppose you'd shock me. And of course you'd catch me because of the camera in the collar."

"You've done your research."

"Yes."

"And you're telling me right now that you'd disobey me and do the comics anyway."

"Did you want me to lie?"

He shook his head, and chuckled. "No, I don't want you to lie. And good, because they're some of your best work."

Sherry stood up. It was now or never. She reached behind herself and unzipped her dress, then pulled it down, uncovering first her breasts, and then shimmying it down over her hips until she wore nothing but her heels.

Gray stood up, but didn't approach her. "It's complicated, in ways you may not know about. Did you know I knew your mother?"

Sherry blinked. "You what? No, she never told me! She - wait." Sherry ran through the events of the night at the club. Gray had come right up to her. She thought it was chance, but it could have been that he sought her out. And then her mother kept asking questions, trying to find out what demon did what to her. And she'd mentioned that the one guy was an artist - of course her mom had put two and two together.

Gray just stood there, letting her process.

"So you don't want me, then," Sherry said. "Because of her."

"No. It might be worse than that. I might want you because of her. And even then there's the question of why

that's

true. It's complicated, and I need to think. And maybe make a phone call. But Sherry, I am not saying no. I, too, want two things right now, even if, well, like you, my art comes first. One is that I want to grab you and enjoy that luscious body of yours. The other is that I want to drive you to the Ruritanian embassy and make you mine. The first - well, that might happen today. The second, we're going to wait on until we both know everything we need to know. For now - will you wait here, with Model?"