“See? That’s what I’m talking about,” she finished. “Unfortunately, Siobhan doesn’t think I can finish everything this quarter, especially since we added another piece.”
“Are you casting them?”
She nodded. “I don’t have the experience to sculpt actual marble. That’s what the MFA is for. And to cast bronze. I know how to do both, but I’ve only done small pieces. So we’re doing the Kanagawa pieces in Carrara marble dust. Half-scale again. I don’t need to show emotions like I did with
you and the Replicant, but I want to put a lot of details into the faces and kimono and futon.”
“Let me know when you’re ready to build the molds,” I said. “I’ll help—”
“I knew you would,” she beamed.
“—but I need to add it to my schedule. I have a pretty tricky model to build for my own project. Nothing like last time, but still…”
“I don’t think we’ll cast them this quarter,” Christy said. “Siobhan wants me to concentrate on the maquettes and details and planning. We’ll cast in the spring for my final portfolio review. The Art Department is having another big show, and these’ll be the centerpieces of my exhibition.”
I nodded.
“I… hope you’ll be my date again.”
“Of course.”
“And this time I promise I won’t call you ‘my future husband.’”
“Oh, I think it’d be all right if you did.”
She searched my eyes. “Are you serious?”
“I think so. We aren’t ready to make it official, but I think that’s the direction we’re headed. Why? Don’t you?”
“Yes, of course! But…” She frowned. “I always thought it’d be more romantic than this. It’d be a surprise or something, like in books and movies.”
I chuckled. “Well, think about it… Danny and Sabrina talked about getting married before he actually popped the question. Harry and Marianne too.”
“I know, but still… I guess I have this storybook idea of what romance is like, and the reality is more… I dunno. What’s a good word?”
“Prosaic.”
“Exactly.”
I gathered her in my arms and said, “I’ll try to add more poetry to our romance.”
Her forehead wrinkled.
“That’s what ‘prosaic’ means,” I explained. “Literally, ‘like prose.’
Figuratively it means ‘boring and unromantic.’ So its opposite is ‘poetic.’”
“You and your words.” She rolled her eyes, cheerful again. “But I like poetry. Tell me some now. You know I love listening to you.”
I concentrated for a moment and then thought of something. I cleared my throat and said,
I have a small
girlfriend called
Christy, who is
like a golden
flower
I wouldn’t
take all Croesus’
kingdom with love
thrown in, for her.
“Oh my gosh, that’s beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful.”
“Who—?” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Who wrote it?”
“Sappho. I changed it a bit, but it’s pretty close to the original.”
“Is there more?”
“A whole book, one of my favorites.”
“Let’s take it with us next time we go to West Virginia.”
I nodded.
“In the meantime, do you think we could…?” She glanced through the door to the stairs. “You know… maybe…?”
I arched an eyebrow.
“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you? I think you enjoy humiliating me.”
“There’s nothing humiliating about telling me what you want.”
“I know.” She pretended to glare anyway. “Okay, here goes.” She took a deep breath and looked me in the eye. “Will you please take me to bed and do naughty things? With your penis and fingers and tongue. And… anything else you want to do.”
My eyebrows rose at the last. “Oh? You have something in mind?”
“Maybe… tie me to the bed?”
“You’re a kinky little thing, aren’t you?”
“I am for you.”
“In that case, I’d love to.”
Several days later, Christy woke me in the middle of the night. It was still dark outside, hours before my internal alarm usually went off. I was lying on my back with her by my side. She had one leg over mine and was massaging my hard-on.
“Tha’ feels nice,” I mumbled.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I decided you shouldn’t either. Sorry. Except I’m not. I couldn’t stop thinking. About something you said.”
“Uh-oh. Gonna be one of those conversations? All right, gimme a sec. I’ll try to wake up. In the meantime, you wanna—?”
“Yes, please.” She pushed the covers out of the way and made a beeline for my cock. She started sucking without her usual foreplay.
I chuckled. “Been thinkin’ ’bout that for a while?”
She nodded and hummed, “Mmm hmm,” without releasing her lip-lock.
I woke up slowly as she worked me over. She wasn’t in the mood for an extra-long blowjob, so I came after about ten minutes. She swallowed and then rested her head on my stomach as I caught my breath.
“Ready to talk now?” I said at last.
“I… I think so.”
“Sounds serious.”
“It isn’t,” she lied. “It’s just something I was wondering about.”
I decided not to call her on it. “Oh? What?”
“Nothing, really. Only, you said Erin was part of the swinger group.”
“She is. What about it?”
“So… she’s slept with Leah and Mark?”
“Of course. You were there. Before Christmas. But lots of other times too.”
“What about with Wren and Trip?”
“Them too. Over the summer.”
“But… you’ve never actually seen her do it.”
I must’ve been still half-asleep, because I didn’t realize how much I was about to give away. “Having sex? Of course I’ve seen her. Plenty of times.”
My eyes snapped open and I fought down a wave of panic. Then I waited. I felt a mixture of relief and dread when Christy laughed softly. She hadn’t run away, but she was still holding the Hughes Lie Detector.
“He just got the message that you’re scared.”
“He’s a treacherous organ,” I said with a touch of genuine resentment.
“That’s what you said.” After a long pause she continued, “If I let him go,
will you tell me anyway?”
“To thine own girlfriend be true?” I said. “So now you’re using that against me?”
She started to say something but then thought better of it. “I was going to,” she admitted, “but now I’m not so sure.”
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know… if you think you’re ready for it.”
“That isn’t going to work this time. I’m a lot more comfortable with who I am these days. I don’t know if I ‘found’ myself or you found me and showed me the truth, but either way, I’m not the same as I was back then.”
She released my limp manhood and rolled to her back.
I felt another spike of panic but realized she was just giving herself room to think.
“I… want to know,” she said at last. “I think I need to.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then you need to ask. Sorry, you can’t just hint about this one.”
“Ugh! You’re so infuriating sometimes!” In spite of her tone, she scooted up and nestled alongside me. She rested her head on my chest and slid her leg over mine, exactly how we’d begun this little tête-à-tête. “I want to know,”
she said slowly, deliberately, “about Erin… and you.”