Naked Portraits Pt. 04

Blasphemy.

I turned the key in the lock. As a grad and teacher's assistant, I had keys to all of the drawing and painting studios. It was after nine o'clock in the evening, no was was about thus minimizing an encounter with a Beaumont's minion.

"Paranoid fuck," I said as I turned the doorknob.

The place was dark, cool and empty. I clicked on just one set of incandescent spotlights, leaving the fluorescent work lights off. In keeping with my paranoid frame of mind, I pulled the thick sun drapes over the windows then turned an easel to so that I faced the door. Using a ladder, I adjusting the spotlights; two for my easel and one for my makeshift work table.

I went to prop closet to fetch one of the full length mirrors stored their. I threw open the door and hit the light switch and let out a scream for someone stood just inside the door. "Fuck!" I barked when I deduced that it wasn't a person but the full artificial skeleton the figure drawing classes used for bone studies.

"What the fuck are you doing here Twiggy?" I asked aloud as my heart slowed to normal.

Twiggy was the art department's nickname for the artificial female skeleton. She was usually stored in Professor Kang's office because she had gone missing once. She was finally found a week later tucked away in a corner of the sculpture yard. No one claimed to knew how she got there. Anyway, it was weird that she was here back in the prop closet again.

I pushed Twiggy aside causing her plastic bones to clack musically so I could get to one of the big mirrors. After muscling the mirror where I wanted it, I set up my painting station. After making sure that the two doors to the drawing studio were locked, I took a deep meditative breath, then slowly undressed in front of the mirror. A thrill flushed through me as I remembered posing naked in this very room with redheaded Venus for Betty and how excited I got when Hawk crashed the sitting.

Once fully naked, I gave myself a once over in the mirror. Over the last few months, I had made time to hit the school gym at least twice a week. Mostly because of Hawk who was a real health nut. I turned, rolled my arms and flexed my legs to admired my developing muscle tone. I particularly liked how flat my stomach looked. To complete the inspection, I twisted my hips to look at my ass. My butt was always curvy and nice I thought, but now it was sculpted perfection. It made me wish I was more athletic because it would be fun to show off this new booty in a short tennis skirt. And then I laughed, because I sucked at every sport known to man.

You can dance though, I thought confidently.

"Yeah, just like Shelly," I said aloud and moved my hips to music in my head. "I would make a great stripper if only my tits were bigger." Done with my body assessment and tit critique, I slipped on a bathrobe that I had stolen from the Ala Wai Arms hotel a couple of years ago. The air conditioning was on full blast and I was getting a bit chilled. I glanced at myself in the robe liking its dusty-mauve color.

"No more digression, time to paint, Japanee girl," I told my reflection.

I picked up a brush and mentally fell into the painting.

Four hours later, as I stood naked before the easel and said, "Done."

Then the unspeakable happened, the door to the figure-drawing studio flew open. I nearly screamed, and then frantically threw on my dusty-mauve robe and then looked around for the craft paper to cover my painting. Unfortunately, the paper was across the room out of reach.

The intruder was female and she let out a small scream at finding someone in the studio this late at night. The woman at the door turned out to be Meka Okuda the history department's reigning princess. Her long wavy hair formed a perfect halo around her beautiful face, her figure spectacular as usual in jeans and a casual shirt. I marveled at her height, well over five ten, which made me question her heritage. The chick was certainly not pure Japanese.

If I had her figure, I'd paint a naked self-portrait everyday I thought absently as I tightened my robe.

"Shit Gwen! You gave me a heart attack!" Meka said with a hand between her full breasts. I was surpised that she remembered my name. She frowned. "Why are you painting in here?" The frown doubled when she saw I wore a bathrobe. Her eyes fell on the mirror nearby and she quickly deduced what I was up to. "You're hiding from Beaumont." She stepped around to look at my painting and there was nothing I could do about it. Meka gasped and said, "Holy shit on my communion."

"You catholic?" I asked with a small laugh at her odd choice of words.

Meka nodded. "This is fantastic, Gwen."

I sighed. "No, it's a huge brain fuck is what it is."

"This is the sexiest painting I've seen come out of this department ever."

"No it's not. No one's ever gonna see this but you," I said adamantly with a big dose of depression.

"Too bad," Meka whispered still in awe.

We both admired my painting in silence.

Don't ask my why, but I had painted a line of mirrors behind the central figure, six in all, each showing my back from different angles in a vain celebration of my new fit body.

"What's art history's best doing in the figure painting studio at two in the morning?" I asked.

"Working on a paper on the history of anatomy in art," Meka said, eyes still fixed om my painting. "I came to barrow Twiggy for a photo idea. Kang left her hear in the prop closet for me. I meant to pick her up earlier but I had a last minute photo gig to go to."

"So that's why she's here," I said.

"I'll get Twigs and be out of your hair quick," Meka said.

"Don't hurry. I'm pretty much done here," I said.

Meka pulled Twiggy out on her wheeled stand. "Old Twigs her had been in no hurry since 1973," Meka said as she looked at the perpetually grinning skeleton. She gave the skeleton a casual nudge with an elbow casing it to clack.

"I don't think that an artificial skeleton was ever in a hurry," I pointed out.

"Twiggy isn't a fake, she's the real thing."

I gave her a disbelieving look. Meka pointed at a tarnished brass plate mounted to the support pole and I read it aloud.

"Donated body and soul to the drawing department by Charlene Manson 1973."

Amuse at my apparent astonishment Meka gave me Twiggy's history.

"Charlene Manson was a grad student here. She died of some blood disorder thing and donated her skeleton to her beloved drawing department." Meka turned the skeleton to face me.

The tinkling and clacking of the bones sounded ultra creepy in the near dark classroom.

"See ya," Meka said and headed for the door with the skeleton.

A powerful nostalgic longing for my best friend Betty flooded through me as I watched Meka leave. I've had no female friend to confide since my mysterious breakup with Betty almost a year ago. Misty still counted of course, but she lived in San Francisco, too far away. Right then and there, I decided to take the leap with Meka.

"You up for some girl talk?" I asked shyly.

"Okay," Meka said surprised at my seriousness. "I'll go park Twiggy in my studio then we'll continue this at Mama Rose's, I'll buy."

"It's two in the morning?" I said. "Will they be open?

"Oh yeah. Last call is at four thirty."

"Sure you don't mind?" I asked with an unexpected lump in my throat.

"It's cool," she said. "I'm kind of a night owl." She looked at my painting again. "Why does one of the figures have short hair?"

"Part of a dream I had," I said. I looked up and was startled to see the skeleton of Charlene Manson reflected in the mirror. It totally creeped me out for some reason and I couldn't get out of there quick enough.

Chapter 31 A New Best Friend and the Exorcism

Meka and I sat at a table at Mama Rosa's with sweaty pints of draft beer before us. We were the only people in the place not counting the one armed bartender and the tired looking tattooed waitress. I had brought along Sally's bronze Venus of Willendorf and fingered it between sips of beer. Meka asked to see my little goddess and I handed it to her.

"This is great. Where did you get it?"

I told her about Sally and the full sized finished Venuses.

A crooked little smile touched the corner of her mouth as she pulled a small sketchbook from her backpack and wrote a note on a blank page. Meka took a long swig from her beer, and then asked, "So what girl stuff do you want to talk about?"

With no hesitation, I told her everything. The only part I left out was my encounter with the forest goddess. I saw how Meka had reacted to my response to Twiggy being a real skeleton and I didn't want her thinking I was a superstitious yokel ... even though I was.

"You're best friends is Betty Nagata?" she asked wide-eyed. "The Betty Nagata? Honolulu's answer to Paris Hilton?"

"Was best friends," I corrected. "And Betty isn't like that Paris chick. She doesn't flaunt her wealth or slept around or anything like that," I said in automatic defensive for my former best friend.

"I heard different, but it was all just rumor I'm sure," Meka said. Before I could ask her to elaborate on the rumors, Meka leaned in and whispered, "What's it like having two lovers?"

"A fantastic blissful pain in the ass," I whispered back.

"Oh you poor, poor thing," she said unsympathetically, and then laughed. "I haven't had a lover for almost a year now."

"A hot chick like you? I find that hard to believe," I said.

"Believe it sister. No one's shucked this oyster in a long time." Meka swallowed the last of her pint then waved over the waitress for another round. After the waitress left Meka asked, "Can you keep a secret?"

"Depends on the secret," I said.

"I'm serious. I'm doing a photo shoot for a client tomorrow night and need one more person in the crew and I'm asking you. It pays fifteen hundred."

"A thousand five hundred? Really?" I asked with a greedy raise of my eyebrows.

"Yes, but you have to convince me you can keep a secret," she said seriously holding my gaze.

"My best friend was Betty Nagata, Honolulu's rich bitch, bad girl," I said leaning in holding her gaze, "and you only found that out today."

"Good enough. It's a nude celebrity shoot." Meka leaned closer and whispered, "Li Hong."

"Really?" I asked astounded. Everyone in the Islands knew the name of the five time Olympic gold metal diving champion from Maui.

"I'll call you tomorrow and tell you where the shoot is," Meka said then drank some beer.

"What do I have do to earn my dough?" I asked after a long pull of my own beer.

"Reloading cameras, help with makeup, let everyone know what kind of genius I am. The usual Gofer stuff."

"Sounds easy enough," I said. "Back to girl talk, what's your advise for me?"

Meka pondered as she sipped her beer. "You have two wonderful guys at your beck and call. My advice is stop your bitching and go with it."

"But Matt cheated on me?" I complained.

"Oh for Christ's sake Gwen, the guy had just started up with you. He had no idea where he stood? If you're determined to fuck this all up, by all means, confront him on it."

It was not what I wanted to here, but unfortunately, it made sense. I reluctantly nodded and drank more beer.

"What are you gonna do about Beaumont and the new direction of your art?" Meka asked.

"Oh that little thing?" I said. Then with a sorry shake of my head I confessed, "I have no idea."

"What my useless advice on that too?"

"Shoot."

"The key word there is yours. Take it out of Beaumont's death grip, put it back in your hands."

"Beaumont's been my adviser and mentor from the beginning," I said on the edge of sounding like a whiner. "I can't just walk away from her?" A tightness forming in my chest.

"She's made you a drone of her cold out dated modernist regime," Meka said.

I opened my mouth ready to defend my art and Beaumont, but Meka held up a hand to stop me.

She said, "That multifaceted nude I just saw is the postmodernist in you screaming for freedom."

"Beaumont owns me. She'll crucify me if I declare myself a postmodernist."

"As a Catholic, I highly recommend crucifixion," Meka said with a smile.

"As a Shinto I'd prefer burning incense," I said to be funny but didn't feel like joking. Meka just didn't understand how much I needed Beaumont's approval.

"Well you don't have to make a decision now," Meka said. "The next grad review is not for a couple of months."

"Good, I'm too fucking drunk to change horses tonight," I declared.

"It's because you're such a skinny little twerp. I've barley got a buzz."

"It's your big tits. They absorb all the alcohol before it gets to your brain."

Meka laughed. "I gotta get back to my studio. I have a date with Twiggy."

"You mean Charlene Manson," I said automatically. Now there's one chick that had something real to worry about, I thought and then wondered how old she was when she died?

We walked back to campus and parted on the third-floor of the art building. I smiled warmly as I watched Meka walk away. We had officially became friends tonight I felt. Impulsively, I pulled my little bronze Venus from my backpack and whispered a silent thanks to her. I thought of going back to the figure painting studio to work on my portrait then a line of anger creased my forehead.

I said to my pocket goddess, "I have to make my studio mine again."

**********

My cell rang. It was Hawk.

"Hey," he said. "Got your message. Where are you?"

"In my studio. Matt with you?"

"Yeah, he is but he's kinda sleepy. He's just not an early morning kind of guy,"

"Five in the morning is not early, it's fucking night time," Matt said sounding distant and disgruntle on the phone.

"You got the tequila?" I asked.

"A fifth of Cuervo Gold from my sock drawer as instructed."

"Where are you?" I asked. A rhythmic knock at my studio door answered my question. "Come in," I whispered into the phone and then shut it and put it aside.

The guys stepped in and found themselves face to face with my finished multifaceted nude lit by a half dozen burning, unmatched candles.

"Awesome," Hawk whispered.

"Amazing," Matt added.

"Close the door please," I said from behind my easel. I heard the door close, and then I stepped into view fully naked echoing the central pose of my painting with my hands pressed together just below my breasts. "Welcome to the exorcism."

"I'm awake now," Matt said. mouth

It pleased me how the guys looked at me. It pleased me even more that they looked at the painting in the same way too. I took the brown paper bag from Hawk, pulled the fifth of Cuervo from it and broke the paper seal with a twist. I splashed the tequila into three mismatched vessels on my desk, a shot glass with the words 'Shaka bra!' printed on it in green, a chipped coffee mug and a semi crushed paper cup. My little bronze Venus sat on the desk among the makeshift shot glasses shimmering in the flickering candlelight. Taped to the wall above my desk was the charcoal drawing of my Iao Valley forest goddess I had drawn from memory on the night I had met her. I lifted the shot glass in a toast and the guys followed suite. "To the Goddess," I said and knocked back my shot.

"The Goddess," the guys echoed together. It was clear that they were toasting me as they swallowed their shots.

"Get naked," I prompted.

I got no arguments.

After they undressed, two sets of hands explore my naked body. Meka's comment of having two lovers at my beck and call echoed in my head. And here they are at five in the morning worshiping their goddess ... me.

Matt leaned in, turned me to face him and we kissed, his hard long erection smashed pleasantly between us. I felt Hawk's hands comb through my hair, his fingers brushed down my back giving me goosebumps, and then he pressed in nestling his erection between my ass cheeks. Twisting free of Matt's kiss, I turned and engaged Hawk's waiting mouth. Matt took up the rear exploration as both his hands caressed my ass, back and upper thighs.

The kiss with Hawk was hot and brief.

"One of you are gonna fuck me and I don't care which." I declared.

I pulled free of my lovers, took a swig of tequila straight from the bottle and sat with my legs spread expectantly on my ratty little loveseat sofa.

Absurdly, they played rock-paper-sisorse call Jan-kun-po here in the islands, for the honor of fucking me first. Matt's won with paper over rock. He knelt on the floor at the foot of the loveseat, gripped his hard-on, and guided it to my wet waiting opening. He put his hands above my head at the top of the loveseat for support and started trusting.

"Don't be gentle," I told him as I met each thrust with an enthusiasm gasp and upward roll of my lower body. All too soon, I tightened my legs around Matt's hips to hold him still as my orgasm hit.

I coaxed Matt out of me and got on my knees on the loveseat, ass facing out. Hawk took his cue and entered me from behind ... at my beck and call I thought with a satisfied smile.

"I want it rough," I told him. He obliged and pounded away. I voiced my shaky delight with each thrust and came nosily in no time.

I pulled away from Hawk and sat down on the loveseat with my sweaty chest heaving from excursion. I waved my lovers forward, gripped a stiff cock in each hand and waited for my breathing to slow. When I caught my breath, I covered the head of Matt's erection with my mouth and worked the shaft with my hands then I turned to Hawk and repeated the process. I worked each of my lover's cocks with calculated evenness; I wanted them to come as close together as possible.

With Matt in my mouth, Hawk discharged several jets of warm liquid on my left shoulder and side of my neck. Matt gasped and exploded in my mouth at the same moment. I let Matt fall from my mouth, stood up, brushed my right hand across the warm emissions running down my neck, and then dripped as much as I could over Sally's little bronze fetish.

My eyes went to the charcoal drawing of the forest goddess on the wall. I leaned in close to it and spat Matt's seed at it, the charcoal smudged and the paper rippled. I turned looking pass my lovers at my self-portrait and her many reflections.

"Welcome to the postmodern," I told her.