David

The seventeen-foot tall statue practically shone of history and genius. Charlotte had heard of it being described as the perfect man: a well built chest and muscular limbs, with a hard steely gaze to its left, sling thrown over the shoulder ready for action. It seemed, in short, the original hero. Yet, probably because she was still so aroused, Charlotte very quickly found her attention drifting downwards. For the perfect man, David didn't exactly have the perfect appendage. Maybe they were more of the opinion back then that it wasn't size that counted, but what you did with it.

Mike seemed at a complete loss for words. When he did manage to finally speak they were jubilant, enthusiastic words of praise and thanks to the Italian visitors. "Beautiful," he said happily to Charlotte. "Isn't it amazing? Makes all that fucking hard work so worth while!"

Charlotte nodded. "I'm pleased for you, Mike," she said. And pleased for me too, she added in her mind, especially if Troy was as happy as Mike had been to see this. She squinted a little now, focussing up on the face of the statue, under the chiselled curly hair. "What's he looking at?" she wondered out loud. "What do you think, Mike?"

"Some say Goliath, either alive or dead. I think there's something more in it, though. I think it's slightly arrogant. Its saying: 'Look at me, and look what I've done. Aren't I amazing?' And isn't it just?"

Charlotte smiled, amused at her Assistant's excitement. "Don't get attached to it," she said to him as kindly and playfully as possible. "You know we've only got it for a limited time. That doesn't mean you're going to start camping out by it every night, though."

Mike frowned. "Hardly," he said. "Think of the money, Charlotte. How much the Museum is going to benefit from having one of the greatest pieces of art in history?"

Yes, thought Charlotte. Though the more people who come to see David, the less people may want to come and see Troy Newman's work.

***

For the rest of the afternoon Charlotte attempted to make as much polite small talk as seemingly possible with the Italian visitors to give Mike the impression that she was solely committed to the project. But all the while, both in the back of her mind and at times, as if she were swimming in it, were the thoughts of what would happen later that night. How she'd bring Troy into the room, show him the delights of the statue before showing him the delights of her beautiful body.

How was it going to happen? How would she seduce him, bring him to that moment of complete surrender, that state of desire to do anything and everything to her? She'd spent so many months daydreaming, fantasising about how it would go. Now she had the opportunity right in the palm of her hands, and she hadn't the first clue what to do with it. Finally, after hours of wracking her brain, two simple yet perfect answers popped up: alcohol and gorgeous lingerie.

As she left the Museum that evening, Charlotte could feel the excitement building inside of her – it was as if she was hungry and needed a really good meal to satisfy it. Before she went out the door she stopped to speak to Todd, the Night Security Man.

"Todd, I'm probably going to be back later tonight with an artist whose work we're exhibiting. He wants to look over the final layout for the show. Is that going to be a problem?" As she asked, she casually placed a fifty dollar bill in front of him on the desk, which he quickly covered with his hat.

"Not a problem at all, Miss Thompson," he said, smiling broadly. "Have a nice night now."

I intend to, thought Charlotte as she walked out.

Evening had turned swiftly into night. The city was surrounded by a blanket of black enmeshed with tiny blinking lights. In the centre rested the largest and fullest moon Charlotte could ever remember seeing in her lifetime. It was bright and luminous and could possibly have lit half the city if the power suddenly went. As Charlotte gazed up towards its face, for some reason she shivered slightly, and focussed her attention on getting home quickly and safely.

Charlotte's apartment was on the top floor of a building about fifteen minutes walk away from the Museum, but the Italians had stayed a little too longer than either Charlotte or Mike had been anticipating. Charlotte checked her watch as she started to run up the stairs two at a time – she had about an hour to get ready before she really needed to leave and get to the Museum in time to set a room up somewhere for the magic to happen. She didn't want to bring Troy back here – she was so desperate she wanted it to be there and then.

As she ran down the hallway she nearly knocked over her neighbour in the process.

"Hey, easy, Charlotte," the woman laughed. "Where's the fire?"

Charlotte laughed as she shoved her key into the front door lock. "You have NO idea, Di," she replied.

Charlotte's apartment wasn't that big – just an open living area/kitchen with a large skylight in the centre of the roof, a bathroom and a bedroom. It was all she really needed. If she'd ever had anyone stay over, why would she need an extra bedroom? It was all very modern in its design, with the main colour being cream for a lot of the furniture and practically all the walls.

Her large bed had beige sheets to match the simple blinds over the windows that looked over the street below, and her prize and joy – an ancient looking wardrobe that had been left, among other things, to Charlotte in her grandmother's will. What would dear grandmother think of her now, thought Charlotte, grinning wickedly, to know that half the wardrobe was full of the most exquisite looking and feeling lingerie from Goodinsons, the greatest Lingerie designer in the world?

After ten minutes of searching she finally found the set she was after: it was one of her favourites too, which was always a bonus. Simple yet she knew it was always, always effective: a black silk bra and thong set, frilly round the edges of the strings.

Quickly, Charlotte stripped herself naked, removing lastly the wet panties she had been making wetter throughout the day. God, they were a mess. Even now, as she stood proudly naked in front of the full length mirror installed inside the door of the wardrobe, she could feel the wetness between her thighs. It had to be tonight. No more going on feeling like this.

She studied herself closely in the mirror. She was very proud of her body. Her breasts may have been small, but they were very receptive to touch, which she found more often to be a blessing than a curse. All those workout DVDs had helped her keep a flat stomach and muscular legs. Everywhere down there was smooth, almost as smooth as the material of the lingerie she held in her hands. She had always shaved her mound almost as soon as she started having sex. It had just made sense – she didn't think it was wrong or anything for girls to have hair down there, but for her it was the obvious thing to do. Nine times out of ten men she had slept with had commented how much they enjoyed a smooth, bald pussy.

Charlotte pulled the thong up over her legs and onto that smoothness now. The material felt so good on her skin, though she was a little more concerned about getting these in as much of a mess as her previous pair. When she added the bra over her stiff nipples, she gazed with proud satisfaction at the goddess looking back at her: sexy, alluring and absolutely fuckable. How could Troy resist her?

She picked up a remote control from one of her bedside tables and, pressing a button, set a CD in motion in her radio on the other side of the room. After a second the heavy, ominous stuttering drones, followed by the high-pitched whine of a guitar, set one of her favourite Smiths songs in motion – "How Soon is Now".

Closing her eyes, she started to sway to the music, slowly at first before gradually getting more and more into the rhythm of the piece. Morrissey's lyrics about loneliness and the need for human affection rang through the speakers and into the room, and here she was, almost the personification of those words.

She moved her hips back and forth, running her hands through her black hair and along down her body, her breasts thrilling to the feel of the silk of the black bra. The frills along the material lightly tickled the skin at the top of her breasts. It was an incredible turn-on. Already she could feel herself getting wetter again.

Smiling, controlling herself, she stopped her dance, sitting down on her bed and, keeping her eyes closed, immersed herself in the music. This would be her victory tune when she returned satisfied, exhausted and full.

When the song had finished she chose a long, simply brown jacket from the wardrobe that went down to just between her thighs. Wrapping herself up in it and doing up the big, chunky buttons, she was pleased to see it was hard to tell whether she was wearing anything at all underneath it, let alone this beautiful lingerie.

She tied her hair up in a bow and grabbed a small make-up bag, shoving it into one of the deep pockets of the jacket. She would apply the finishing touches of seduction at the Museum.

Content with how she looked, Charlotte switched off the lights and, grabbing the Holy Trinity of phone, purse and keys, made her way out of the apartment.

As she was locking the door, her neighbour Di came back up the stairs towards her own. "Out somewhere nice?" she asked, making pleasant small talk.

Charlotte smiled back; inside she thrilled to the possibility that Di had no clue of what she was wearing underneath the jacket. It was cold enough outside to get away with for definite. "I hope so," she replied.

"Well, wherever you're going, have fun," said Di, putting her key in her own front door. "Enjoy the effects of the moon tonight while they last."

Charlotte looked back at her neighbour inquisitively.

"It's often said, on the nights when the moon is this big and bright," her neighbour explained, "that it supposedly brings some kind of magical properties with it."

Charlotte raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Make of it what you will," laughed Di cheerily, "but I like to think there's a little truth to it."

Charlotte said goodnight to her and made her way down the stairs and out of the building, into the night, onto the streets. As she began to walk she glanced up once more at that bright circle in the sky. She shivered slightly again when she remembered Di's words. Well, maybe some magic would happen tonight. Who knew?

She stopped off at a supermarket on her way, knowing she had about five minutes before it closed, but knowing exactly what she needed. She went right up to the wine section and bought two bottles of the most delicious red wine she could allow herself to afford and a corkscrew. As she paid for it, she carefully scanned the face of the clerk – a bored looking young man who looked like he couldn't wait to get out of there fast enough. He didn't seem to notice or realise she was wearing next to nothing under the jacket, just as Di hadn't.

Charlotte felt an excited bolt trip up her spine. This was all such an incredible rush. She hadn't done anything like this in so long – the last time was back in college when, during a naughty game of truth or dare with Alex, he had dared her to run around the campus completely naked, the result being her naked ass – and that was all it was, thank god – appeared on the college network the very next day from some dumb guy's camera. That wasn't to say it hadn't been exciting to see her naked behind being ogled by so many people, but she'd thought that those days were behind her. Obviously not.

There was nobody around outside the Museum when Charlotte arrived. She glanced at her watch – 8:07. Perfect. She nodded to Todd on the Security Desk, who tipped his hat with a grin as she passed. She made her way up the shirt flight of stairs into the main exhibition hall; stopping for a moment to make sure all the dim lights were working that surrounded the magnificent statue.

There was a room to the right that contained a soon-to-close gallery of art works concerning gardens, in the middle of which a simple seat was waiting – long, wide, and surprisingly comfortable. Charlotte grinned; this would be the setting for it tonight.

Placing the bottles of wine down on the seat, she walked back through the main hall and towards the public restrooms. As she did so, she had to pass Mike's office. A light blazing through the window sent a horrible sinking feeling into her stomach, but she sighed with relief when, trying to door, she found it locked. He must have left it on by accident – something he was actually prone to do many times.

In the ladies, she removed the jacket and took the make-up bag from out of the pocket. Brushing a few stray strands of hair away, she applied a little blusher on her cheeks, some mascara on her eyelashes and a velvet red lipstick onto her lips. She didn't want to put too much on – she wanted her own natural beauty and the beauty of the lingerie to do all the talking for her.

A little impatiently, she waited back in the gallery room for time to move quicker than it seemingly wanted to. She opened one of the bottles of wine and sniffed its contents before cheekily sipping a little straight from the bottle. It tasted divine – not too dry, but with a slight kick. Your head would probably be swimming after only a few glasses of this.

Her watch beeped to signal the half hour. Almost singing with delight, Charlotte quickly, though as calmly as she could went back though the Museum towards the entrance hall. She walked past Todd, ignoring his sitting up and the raising of a hand and opened the door to look out onto the street.

Nobody. No one and nothing. No sign of anybody, either here or on the other side of the road. Maybe she was being a little over-eager, she thought. After all it had only just gone eight-thirty. She just needed to have a little more patience; that was all.

She almost jumped when as she walked back into the museum she saw Todd standing a little way behind her.

"Sorry, Miss Thompson, I didn't mean to startle you. Your friend – the artist you were meeting – he's already here. He came in and I said he could go on through. I'd have thought he'd have found you by now."

A slight panic filled Charlotte's nervous system. "Thanks, Todd. I'll go find him." After all, it should have been obvious where he had been headed – so why hadn't she bumped into him on route?

She made her way back to the main exhibition hall and to the statue of David. Nobody else was around. Confused, Charlotte glanced all around her. Had he got lost? There was no way that could have happened. The exhibition was so signposted it could have been on a SatNav.

What was that...? She thought...no, she was being stupid. She was hearing things. Maybe he'd gone to the bathrooms to freshen up? Or maybe he'd walked in when she hadn't been looking, seen the wine and put two and two together. Maybe he'd been scared off by that. Oh god, what would that mean? Not just to her, but to the Museum too – a thought that had actually escaped her mind throughout all this.

There it was again – that noise. A low, soft sound. It was coming from a little way down a corridor to the left. There were several galleries down there. What if it was thieves? The Museum had been getting a lot of extra attention because of the David Exhibition. Maybe it had sparked someone else's interest in a very negative sense.

Trembling slightly, telling herself it was because of the cold air conditioning hitting her bare legs, Charlotte tentatively crept down through the corridors. The murmurs were becoming more audible with every third step – and it was plural murmurs. It sounded like there were two of them. What would she do if it was thieves? Scream for Todd? Even then it may be too late to save her own skin.

There was another sound now, adding to the murmurs. It sounded like a hand clap – every so often it would echo around the walls of the corridor. Curiosity getting the better of her fears, Charlotte crept forward until she reached the last gallery. There was a corner she could hide behind and she carefully leant a little way forward to look inside the room.

It wasn't thieves. There was what Charlotte had been fantasising about for the last few months: Troy Newman's naked ass. Yet it was pounding in and out, in and out, Troy grunting as he did so. The recipient moaned every so often in ecstatic response, more so when Troy's hand lightly slapped the flesh of the ass he was fucking.

Charlotte's stunned eyes zoomed over to see the rest of the body that was enjoying Troy's attention so much. Bent over onto the bench that was similar to the one Charlotte had commandeered in the other gallery, a hard, fat member pressed up against the wood, was the unmistakable face of Mike. He groaned more as he moved to the rhythm of Troy, occasionally grinning wildly, licking his lips. He stood up at one point as straight as he could in order to grip the back of Troy's head and pull him in for a deep, passionate kiss, their tongues obviously exploring.

Charlotte didn't know whether to cry out, laugh absurdly or burst into tears. She quickly moved away as silently as she could, her head swimming, heart thumping in her chest. Had it been obvious? Had she missed it completely? How could she have? She'd known Mike for so long now, yet had never realised he was gay. As for Troy...

She felt stupid. She felt utterly foolish and a complete moron. Finding herself back in the gallery she had hoped would become her little love nest, she took an almighty swig from the open bottle of wine to try and calm down. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand – it felt sticky from the alcohol. Right at that moment she was miserable and incredibly angry at herself. She should have known she would never have got a break like that. Of all the dumb luck...even if she had got to him before Mike did, obviously it would have made little difference to how her evening was going to turn out.

Gulping another chug of wine, and picking up the unopened bottle, Charlotte sadly wandered out of the gallery and back into the main exhibition hall. As she passed the statue of David she stopped and glared at it. She didn't want to keep making herself the victim in this. She needed something to blame and this was it. If it hadn't been for this wretched statue, this oh-so-important piece of art, this chunk of dead, cold marble, then maybe Troy would have been able to let her down gently; break his sexuality to her in a quieter way. But no – he had to see this piece of shit!

Anger, frustration and alcohol mixed in an uneasy, dangerous and stupid way. She wouldn't have done it if she weren't high on that cocktail of emotions. But she wasn't thinking straight. With a grunt of hatred, Charlotte hurled the unopened bottle of wine up at the statue. To her immense satisfaction it shattered right on top of his manhood. There was irony for you.

Breathing slower now, pulling herself together, she turned round to walk out of the building with a little more dignity. After a few steps, however, she froze, eyes widened. Something behind her had fallen onto the floor with a heavy thump. What the hell was it...?

Turning slowly back round, her eyes wandered all over the place until, with a growing sense of horror, she saw what was missing. A very important piece.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

She ran over to the statue and, her hand shaking slightly, picked up the marble penis from its new resting place on the floor. She was completely confused. How the hell had this happened? It looked as if it had come clean off – balls and everything, like an apple from a tree. Where it should have been looked as smooth as the rest of the statue, as if manhood had never even been chiselled there in the first place all those centuries ago. How was this possible? All she'd thrown at it was a bottle of wine. A bottle of wine should NOT have done something like this.