Page 75 of Lorenzo

I turn to see Lorenzo’s dark eyes on me, curious about my reaction.

“It is. Come. Let’s go inside.”

The guard remains seated while Lorenzo pushes aside the heavy red curtain.

“Lorenzo! Isn’t that the guard’s job?”

I can’t help feel that we’re trespassing in this hushed, private exhibition. Even though it’s clear Lorenzo was expected and treated as the highest of VIPs.

I turn to look at the fully closed curtain as we step into the small anteroom. It’s closed. We’re truly alone.

And it’s a good thing. I gasp at the first piece of art on display. It’s a sketch of a woman hanging from the ceiling, completely nude.

A man in a suit flogs her while another nude woman sucks his cock through the open fly of his trousers.

“Shocked?” asks Lorenzo, his dark eyes upon me.

“Yes. No …”

“Make up your mind,” he says, his tone light.

“Yes. I didn’t expect to see something so … jarring.”

“Who sketched this?”

“The artist is anonymous. But they were commissioned by the Marquis de Sade to show scenes from his many books.”

““Over here is a portrait of the Marquis de Sade. It was painted by Charles-Amédée-Philippe van Loo in 1760.”

I step closer.

I didn’t major in art, though I’ve certainly seen lots of old portraits in Boston.

He looks like the average aristocratic man of the period. I move to the next wall and see the same man, but this time he’s behind bars.

“He was imprisoned?”

“Yes. For the subject of his stories.”

“People were flogged in his stories?”

“Among other things.”

“This looks like … antiquated pornography. But the exhibition title calls it art.”

“It is art. This is all art. By famous artists.”

Lorenzo escorts me deeper into the exhibition. I see bound saints, their hands bound while their eyes lift heavenward.

Then I see a modern-looking woman about my age, completely nude in red high heels. She’s tied against a tree, the rope cutting into her bound hands, midriff, and thighs.”

“I feel sorry for her.”

“Why? Do you think she’s suffering?” Lorenzo asks.

Instead of answering, I ask him another question. “Why did you bring me here?”

Lorenzo moves a spiral of hair from my forehead and smooths it back.