“You know, saying that makes you sound immature.”
“Undoubtedly. Let’s change the subject.”
“Yes, let’s.”
By dinner, the exhibit was ready. Zara and Sette went back to the latter’s hotel room to eat Chinese take-out and get ready for the main event. June arrived ten minutes after they settled down with greasy food and chopsticks.
“Wow,” Zara said, greeting June with a mouth full of fried rice. “Helloooo.”
June barely looked at her before smiling at Sette. “What do you think?” She gestured to her outfit, which Sette had been staring at from the moment she walked through the door. “Thanks again for arranging that for me.”
“You are… absolutely stunning.” Stunning didn’t really cut it. June worked that conservative – and yet so damn sexual – charcoal cashmere sweater dress as if it would be the last thing she ever wore. A gold and leather belt created a waist around her midsection. Gold earrings dangled from her ears, with the edges of her blond hair pulled back in a dainty French braid. When she twirled for them, the first thing Sette noticed was a nest of diamonds in the braid. How much did this cost me? Not enough. She couldn’t even bother to look at the shoes.
“Thank you.” June kissed her on the cheek. At least kisses were free.
“So. What do I get for dinner?” June eyed Sette’s box of orange chicken.
“This, apparently.” Sette pushed it toward her, complete with an extra pair of chopsticks. “I thought you would have already dined.”
“And miss out on the way your friend checks out my tits?” Zara looked away, blushing. “I wouldn’t miss that for the world. Remember, I charge triple my usual rate for a threesome.”
“Oh, boy.” Zara excused herself to go to the restroom.
“You scared her off. Was that your goal?”
June bent down and kissed one of her favorite clients. She could be bullshitting me about that. I don’t think she is. “I wanted to see how you reacted to the word threesome.”
“I don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s never going to happen. With me involved, anyway.” She looped her arm around June’s waist. “I’m too possessive in bed to ever let that happen.”
“Keep talking dirty to me.”
“Can’t. Need to eat up and get the hell out of here.”
Sette hurried through her dinner and changed into her evening wear. She had two outfit choices, and after seeing how June dressed, decided to coordinate with an off-white turtleneck – yes, in New York in July – and a gold watch.
“Do I look toopretentious artistto you two?” she asked her guests.
“Only if you added glasses. Then I’d have to kill you,” Zara said.
“Duly noted.”
Once perfume had been applied and shoes had been shined, Sette took June by the arm and let Zara trail behind them as they headed to the gallery down the street.
Things had changed… rather drastically since they were last there.
Gone were the crates, the papers, and the tools necessary to put a whole exhibit together. Interns and personnel alike were dressed in their best clothing. The lighting was mellow and subdued. The gallery owner appeared with a member of thepress, introducing them to both Sette and her beautiful muse. Zara hung out but didn’t interfere.
Slowly, people began to arrive. For a function that wasn’t set to start until eight, the place was already packed at 7:45. The real horror? Sette actually recognized a lot of these people. New York’s richest art collectors. Celebrities looking for something to do on a Sunday night. Women speaking Italian and men talking about their summers in Sweden.
Every person Sette shook hands with commended her for her paintings. “Simply exquisite. I really must know how you capture this woman’s beauty so well.” “Tell me, darling, is it true what they say about you? Really! Every word? Fascinating.” “I can see why you retired from the medical field when you have this level of artistic talent. Anyone can be a doctor, but it takes a special something to be an artist.” “If you would let me, I’d buy half the paintings in this room. We’ve been wanting to renovate with a tastefully erotic theme, anyway.”
Sette both drank it up and wanted to depart for the exit. She had never been good with this level of attention, yet she had signed up for it. Besides, with June at her side, charming every artistically minded person who came their way, it was impossible for people not to come to her way of thinking and realize that she was another woman who happened to paint some pretty portraits of a beautiful woman.
At 8:30, Sette was expected to be at the front of the room giving a speech. Oration was never a strong suit of hers, either, but she didn’t necessarily have stage fright. Before tonight, I never had a reason to be excited about something. That had changed when she met June months ago. Her lover. Her muse.
