Claudia's Visitation

Claudia...

She'd told her parents and everyone in her life about having met someone special; unable to explain, or understand herself what made him seem so. Knowing in some way he was the one. Her perspective on life had changed as a result, making her feel anxious and nervous. She didn't like the feeling, as though she wanted to scream. It was why she hadn't finished med-school, perhaps an anxiety disorder.

And those dreams began again. The ones she had before their meeting. They were growing stronger now. When closing her eyes before falling asleep she'd speak into the darkness, asking if he was the one. The land of sleep and darkness answered in an unknown language; poetic lacking in rhyme yet comforting.

In addition to the dreams she had the sense he'd walk through the door at any moment. When the phone rang; she knew it was him. As though there was some special sound to his calls. She felt certain the day would come when he'd join her as though it was meant to be.

There were men wanting her to help them in fulfilling their secret desires. They'd take her out to dinner wanting sex afterwards. They paid her well, helping her to maintain her lifestyle in being an independent artist. But that was the past and though she still got the phone calls inviting her on a date, she declined their offers.

A seascape painting; a breathtaking omen.

She couldn't get it out of her head; what Bill had told her on the phone the other night. About something strange happening to him and that he was told, "by someone, or something" they'd be together.

Though exciting, it also frightened her. She wanted their relationship to come along on its own merit and speed without being coerced by some outside force taking control of them. She couldn't escape the thought of how strange their meeting had been and how quickly and easily their connection and involvement emerged, not to mention the attraction they felt for each other.

"I don't know why I love him already. Maybe it was in seeing how vulnerable he was lying naked and motionless on the beach. He felt cold as death until I touched him, giving him new life perhaps," she thought optimistically.

Nor did she forget his lovemaking skills and how he made her feel for being who she was and not the creature of novelty others considered her to be. And how could she ever forget their first kiss in the rain and the smiles they shared in finally have found one another.

Sitting on pins and needles wasn't her favorite pastime and the best way for her to deal with the feeling was to paint; to lose herself in creativity, in interpreting the world around her on any given day.

She put on a pair of beige Bermuda shorts and an off-white fishnet top. She thought it was too revealing to wear to the mall but it was fine to wear around the house and on the beach.

It was almost 3 when she walked down to the beach with an easel under one arm. The red utility box she carried contained her paints and brushes. She wasn't surprised when she didn't see anyone around. She was about five hundred feet from the shoreline and about a hundred feet from her beach-house when she setup the easel.

She wanted to feel the sun on her and since the air temperature and the sun felt warm, she pulled off her top tossing it behind her before placing the canvas on the easel.

Kyle the visionary...

She'd been at it a few hours, embellishing the painting with nuances of lighting with her interpretation. She paused to cross-reference what she had on the canvas with the scenery when she saw him walking along the beach. He seemed to be having fun in kicking up the sand and playing tag with the breaking waves. She wondered who he was since she never saw him before. She positioned herself behind the easel so that he couldn't see she was topless, even though he was still far enough away.

They waved to one another smiling. She went back to studying her work feeling something was missing when an idea occurred to her. It was to have a man and a woman in silhouette, as they walked hand-in-hand along the beach. She wanted them to appear nondescript, remembering a technique she learned in art-school when the viewer couldn't determine in which direction they were walking.

The two on the canvass represented her and Bill she knew; their direction intentionally obscured with the technique she learned. She stepped back to look at it when she felt a presence, startling her as she turned quickly to see him standing behind her.

She had no way in knowing how long he'd been there, watching her. Quickly she bent to pick up her top, holding it across her chest. Not so much that she thought her body was something to be ashamed of but more out of reflex as she had all but forgotten him; wondering how he was able to maneuver around behind her without her knowing it.

He looked innocent and non-threatening as he stood looking at the painting. Strangely she tried to measure his reaction in seeing what she had on the canvas when he said,

"Interesting, but I think its still missing something."

He crossed his arms in front of him before moving a hand to his chin, rubbing it as if to appraise her work the way a critic might do. He shifted his weight to his left side and began tapping his right foot on the sand. He did it comically and it seemed more like an attempt in making her laugh as opposed to being pejorative.

Seeing he was busy with his assessment, she ran around to the other side of the easel, pulling her top on before returning to stand beside him. She swayed from one hip to the other as she fidgeted with her ear and then her nose as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain," she giggled remembering the scene from the Wizard of Oz.

"This can't be right, can it," he asked obnoxiously. She smiled putting her hands on her hips imitating him. This was fun, this little game they were playing and she was willing to allow him to have his way with her, so to speak.

"Why not humor him and play along," she thought feeling more naked and vulnerable than she had moments ago.

He smiled sensing her acquiescence and willingness in playing along with him. When she looked at him she saw his blue eyes. They were deep and there was a unbelievable degree of intelligence within them; far more than anyone would expect to see in someone so young.

He began to play a "tennis game", looking back and forth from the canvas to her breasts until she poked him with an elbow. His antics along with his fascination with her breasts made her roll her eyes before they began laughing. It felt good as they connected; at least on some level. His little game along with his less than furtive stares suggested his attraction to her was of a sexual nature she thought.

He had red hair that seemed to go off in all directions. His skin was freckled and he had a pug-nose. He wore navy-blue shorts and a bright red tee-shirt making him look like a young Superman on his day off. He wore black and white tennis shoes which were untied. They were still wet and sand-coated from walking in the surf.

Eventually and with perfect timing he extended his hand in order to shake hands with her,

"Hi, I'm Kyle. I'm visiting my aunt who lives down the beach; about five miles from here."

She found him fascinating. When he smiled his eyes smiled too, convincing her it was genuine and came from within him. She hadn't felt the need to be with anyone other than Bill but he'd sparked a desire in her. She took a breath of air relaxing before saying,

"Pleased to meet you Kyle, I'm Claudia. My beach-house is right there," motioning with her head.

While they shook hands he used the other to embrace the back of her hand, gently rubbing it as if to reassure her of his good intentions. It suggested he was affectionate. She saw his impish eyes return to her breasts as they probably jiggled with his intentional vigorous shaking of her arm.

On the other hand her eyes were drawn to his necklace. It looked like the number 8. It sparkled brilliantly. It occurred to her it could be the symbol for infinity, if turned on its side. Her interest with it grew since it looked like it was diamond. Not a series of diamonds as we are used to seeing but it was one solid piece which somehow made it all the more mesmerizing. She was about to ask him about it when they heard the muted ringing of her telephone from within her beach-house. She thought it might be Bill and said,

"Sorry, I have to get that."

She ran the whole way feeling excited and as usual, when she got excited and had to pee, the need became twofold. She was slightly out of breath ready to laugh in hearing his voice when she picked up. It was her mother, asking if she had dinner plans. Though it was a brief conversation, she had to use the bathroom.

She sat on the toilet a few moments before taking a few sheets of toilet paper, wiping herself as she had always done. While flushing the toilet and washing her hands she found herself hoping he was still waiting for her. He was intriguing and yes, enticing too. Suddenly she felt anxious in fearing he'd left before they had a chance to get to know more about one another.

She hurriedly returned to the beach wanting to ask him about his necklace. He was nowhere to be seen. She walked to the shoreline looking in both directions when she barely saw him receding in the distance; a mere dot on the horizon.

He was too far away for her to yell and to expect him to hear. She felt disappointed since she found him to be so fascinating, wanting to know more about him. And the necklace of course, as it had burned its image into her optics...even when she closed her eyes she saw it.

Feeling a sense of regret she went to gather up her paints and the easel, so she could get ready to go out to dinner with her parents. She couldn't help but notice the change to the painting, causing her to gasp in disbelief.

An emotional masterpiece

The two shadowy figures she made to scale, once appearing hundreds of feet away, as they walked directionless along the shoreline, were now very large as they walked towards the viewer. She could see it was Bill's and her outlines as they held hands walking towards the viewer. But what really sent her reeling was that each of them held the hand of a very small child.

Feeling numbed, if not sapped of energy, she dropped to the sand landing on her well-formed posteriors with a thump. She felt an emotional rush as she pulled her knees to her chest, rubbing her cheek and a tear against her thigh.

She was in awe unable to take her eyes from the canvas. It was humbling and she felt as though she was a mere child in regards to art compared to what Kyle had done. Not only was it a masterpiece of illusion; it touched her in a place she had guarded her entire life. In that tender place, her solar plexus where she knew she could never have children as a woman could.

And she began to cry...rocking back and forth in an effort to ease the pain.

She recognized genius when she saw it. Kyle had made it seem as though the light in the painting came from behind the viewer and the four figures were shadows cast onto the seascape. It was the most moving thing she'd ever seen. And it touched her personally, in a place where personal denial lay in silent repose until now.

She sat looking at it for another ten minutes, having a good cry as she wiped the tears from her eyes numerous times. Until she heard the phone again and this time she could tell by its sound, it was him.

"Oh Bill, please come to me," she cried into the phone emotionally.

She told him about what had happened and about the painting and how it made her feel. She told him she found Kyle to be amazing and that he seemed interested in her,

"If you know what I mean".

Bill understood how that could happen since it happened to him twice already. He explained what he and Jesse did hoping she understood. He told her though the time-travelers looked young; they were really adults with a life expectancy over 150 years or more. They noted a difference in that they appeared to her in person, not in a dream as they had with him.

"I guess I should've told you what Jesse said to me, that you and I would have two children through genetic engineering."

Her mouth opened before he heard her say, "Oh my god." Suddenly she understood the intention of the painting, it was intended to be a vision of the future; their future.

That evening...

She got home from dinner with her parents about nine o'clock. She spent the night in disbelief when she asked them if same-sex couples could produce offspring through the use and combination of their DNA, without the need for sperm and eggs. She didn't tell them what happened on the beach but they could sense something. She told them she was fine and that they needn't worry.

The first thing she saw when returning was the painting. She sat looking at it, understanding its intention in being a harbinger. She loved how Kyle had manipulated the light source. And for the first time in her life she was made to feel excited by the idea of having children; wondering if it was possible.

After changing into something casual and wanting to go for a walk to ease her tension and anxiety; she wanted to seek out Kyle. She felt certain he could answer her questions but hadn't a clue as to how to contact him. She liked the way he honored her appearance and presence with his open and mischievous looks of desire which sparkled his eyes.

She walked the beach for over an hour growing tired of waiting for the future to arrive; realizing it wasn't like a book when she could simply turn the page.

She called and talked to a few of her friends for over an hour and then checked her computer for emails. When she got in bed and closed her eyes, she saw his diamond pendant. It was the last thing she remembered before falling asleep.

Her dream...

Her dream was a reenactment of meeting Kyle when everything was the same, except they weren't interrupted by the phone call. He was older and less boyish now.

When she felt the urge to pee, she asked if he'd like to see her place and her paintings. He smiled his answer from ear to ear saying,

"Of course, I think painting is amazing; like yourself."

She led the way and every time she turned to look at him, she saw him watching her ass.

"He's such an imp," she thought smiling to herself.

"Wow," he said when they entered. He looked up at the loft and all around as if processing the information contained within the structure before focusing his attention on her work.

She excused herself saying she needed to use the bathroom, feeling she was exposing herself to him through her art-work. She wondered if he had the acumen to decipher her secret...between her legs.

When she returned she saw him looking at her paintings until he removed his dark-rimmed glasses putting them in his shirt pocket. His focus turned to her and like asking a stranger if you could see a section of their newspaper he asked,

"Can I see your tits?"

She laughed at his offhanded manner in asking such a thing until it occurred to her to ask him why,

"I think they're fascinating. Did you know they evolved as enlarged sweat glands in mammals, slowly becoming breasts in primates when at some time in our history they became...well, something more. And isn't it fascinating when women spend all that money on a gown exposing half of them and when men look; they call them 'pigs'...come on, already!"

Amused with his observation she pulled off her top finding his interest in her flattering and perhaps understandable. And since she had already exposed herself to him through her paintings...well, why not?

Comically he put on his glasses again as he approached looking at her in the same way he had her paintings. After mumbling a few exclamations of approval he asked,

"May I touch them?"

She shook her head "yes" thinking he made her feel like the statue, Venus de Milo.

His hands felt good on her. Though clinical at first they became more affectionate leading to her arousal. He walked around behind her caressing her back, running his hands over her smooth flawless skin. He felt his way down to the small tattoo above her ass before moving lower, squeezing it causing her to utter an exclamation of surprise in being goosed.

He stood in front of her removing his glasses, putting them in his shirt pocket before going down on his knees. He saw the heavy gold chain she wore on one ankle and her beautifully pedicured feet with their candy-apple red polish. He took hold of one of her ankles in two hands moving them upwards until they were just below her shorts. He leaned to kiss her thigh, turning his cheek to rub it against her soft skin.

She didn't know what to say or do and as strange as it seemed to her, she found his examination arousing. She was willing to be the object of his desire, if it was what he wanted of her.

His hands reached to the top button of her shorts when he stopped looking up, wanting permission. She had misgivings about letting him see her, since she didn't know if he'd be put-off by what he'd see.

"I don't know if I'm what you might think I am," she said.

"Well anyone with any sense at all could see you're a beautiful work of art in the form of a human being," he assured her.

"But...well I'm not a 'normal' female down there."

He smiled knowing exactly what she meant when he said,

"I've always been fascinated with squirt-guns, tubes of toothpaste, soap dispensers and in seeing milky hair conditioners squirt out of their bottles. If you mean you are a different kind of a female, I understand."

She placed a hand on top of his smiling approvingly; even helping him. He slid the zipper down seeing she wasn't wearing underpants. Her shorts fell to the floor when he took hold of her "liquid dispenser", smiling his approval at her.

She shuddered in being completely exposed to him. His hands began to massage and knead in and around her ass. Her growing arousal made itself evident when a small drop appeared causing her embarrassment.

"Wow," he said again using that simple word to express his fascination and appreciation.

"You're such an imp. You know that don't you," she said looking down at him before putting her fists on her hips.

He smiled before sticking his tongue out at her, as any pixie might've done. And then quite unexpectedly, he licked the end of her sex saying,

"And you're a delicious unicorn."

The dream ended there and it woke her up. She walked into the living room sitting in her easy chair, watching the painting dance like an elf in the changing light of the sunrise.

What she didn't know was those from the future had the option in becoming asexual, as Kyle had done when he reached adulthood. He thought useless sex urges would only interfere with his main ambition and vocation in life -- painting.

He had learned from the great masters throughout time as he made countless visitations. We won't tell you how and who he inspired since it could spoil their accomplishments. It's enough to say they found inspiration in Kyle and Art will always have its rightful place in the annals of time.

Not unexpectedly, Kyle agreed with Bill when he observed,

"She was a work of art when science and medicine had been the brushstrokes."