Melanie - The Art Lesson

When Melanie's plane landed at the Manchester Airport, she couldn't have been more tired. Lousy weather in New York had caused her original flight to be canceled. She was forced to switch airlines, fly to Toronto and board another flight at midnight, to finally arrive in England four hours later than expected. Even though she hadn't slept at all, sandwiched between two snoring men, she was still feeling optimistic, until she discovered her luggage didn't arrive with her.

"Excuse me, I've been waiting for my luggage and there's nothing else coming around the carousel. Can you help me?" she inquired at the baggage counter.

Tears filled her eyes after several checks confirmed all three of her bags were nowhere to be found. Although the young man who had been helping her couldn't have been nicer, he was not used to dealing with tired, crying, American women. Screaming tourists were fine and he had grown a thick skin to the language that was thrown at him; beautiful women quietly crying were a little beyond his skills.

Working with the clerk and his supervisor, Melanie was sent away with only her lost baggage claim check and a telephone number so that she could check to see if they were found. Tears were still falling as she turned and walked away.

As she came out of the baggage area, Melanie wiped her tears away and scanned the crowds hoping to find anyone holding a sign printed with her name. Manchester University promised they would try to find someone to greet her, but with people still away on holiday, they couldn't be sure that anyone would be available. She had trusted her mother to get word to them of her new flight information. Melanie gripped the piece of paper that contained the address of her new flat and prepared to find a cab.

Her chin started to quiver and the tears threatened to return when she saw him, holding a sign above his head -- MELANIE HARRISON. She picked up her pace and headed towards him.

Jeffrey Blackstone peered out over the expanse of people heading towards the exits. All he knew, when he volunteered to meet the associate professor from America, was that he would be meeting a woman in her early thirties. The faculty office had failed to forward her photograph. Standing a full head above most of the people around him, the sign he held stood out like a beacon in the night.

Jeffrey knew her almost immediately, when this tall woman with red eyes and a look of absolute hopelessness approached him. The chestnut colored hair she had put in a chignon was in complete disarray. Her teal blue eyes were rimmed with tears and her clothes and raincoat were crumpled, indicating the hours of travel she had endured.

"Hi," her voice shook as she greeted him. "I'm Melanie Harrison."

"Miss Harrison, I'm Jeffrey Blackstone from the university; how do you do?"

Before Melanie stood the epitome of her idea of James Bond; he was probably mid forties, over six feet tall, clean shaven and dark brown hair, with gray at the temples, lending to his distinguished air. It didn't hurt that he had incredible blue eyes and an athletic build.

Melanie felt even worse, looking at this debonair gentleman and then looking down at her wrinkled attire. Her emotions got the best of her and the tears escaped her eyes.

"I've had a really bad day," she sniffed. "I really need a hug."

With that little warning, Jeffrey found this disheveled, young woman leaning into him and resting her head against his chest. Not all that reluctantly Jeffrey put his arms around her and let her cry. It had been over five years since he had held a crying woman; not since his partner of ten years said goodbye.

It finally dawned on Melanie that she was getting Jeffrey's Burberry trench coat wet and she jerked out of his arms.

"Oh God, Mr. Blackstone, I'm so sorry. I....I'm not the hysterical type, honest, but you see, all three of my bags are lost. I'm literally holding everything I own," Melanie explained.

Jeffrey was sympathetic to her plight, but smiled and tried to reassure her. "Miss Harrison, I've done a fair amount of traveling and more than once I've arrived at my destination before my luggage. I promise you, the airlines are very good about finding these things. In the meantime, let's get you to your flat, take inventory of what you may need in the kitchen, and decide if you need anything in the way of clothes. You know, you'll probably be back here tomorrow to pick up your bags."

Jeffrey took Melanie's arm and guided her to the shuttle that took them to the parking lot. Melanie raised her eyebrows appreciatively when Jeffrey unlocked her car door. Before her was a stunning 1963 Jaguar XKE. Befitting the image that Melanie had of him, the car was fully restored to its original splendor. Melanie melted into the soft bucket seat and when Jeffrey turned on the engine, the car came alive to the music of Black Sabbath. She had only meant to lean her head back for just a moment, and was awakened by Jeffrey's hand on her shoulder.

"Miss Harrison," he said quietly. "Miss Harrison, wake up, we're at the flat."

Melanie's eyes fluttered open when she heard his soft voice, and realized the car had stopped moving. Jeffrey was parked in front of a three story brick apartment building. He escorted her up the walkway that was flanked by rose gardens. He took keys out of his pocket and opened the outer door, and then the lobby door.

Melanie saw a stairway straight ahead, and then looked left and right down the hallway.

"You're in #3A, down here to the left," Jeffrey told her. "This is a small, but friendly complex. Many of the visiting faculty members stay here. Each flat is completely furnished, the kitchens are stocked with dishes, pots and pans, and there are bedroom and bathroom linens. If you like, I can leave you to rest and come by later to take you to the market."

He handed Melanie her flat key and let her do the honors. She opened the windowed wooden door to a small dark hallway, containing a coat rack. To Melanie's immediate left was the bedroom. It was rather nondescript, but at least it contained a bed, a night stand, dressing table, and armoire. There was additional storage on the shelves in the closet. Next to her bedroom was the small bathroom with tub, sink and toilet. Jeffrey pointed out the heated towel rack.

They walked through the last door on the left and entered the combination lounge and dining room. A round dining table sat in front of a great window over looking the rose garden. To the left of the window was one last door, leading to the galley kitchen.

Melanie had never seen such a compact space. Everything she needed was there, but in a much smaller size than she was used to seeing. There was even a small washer and dryer. There were no upper cabinets, just open shelving. Another window looked out over the roses. Jeffrey reached up and cracked the window, letting in the heady fragrance of the colorful flowers. The one thing Melanie wished she had right now was her sketch book.

She turned to look at Jeffrey, still feeling a bit awed by his good looks. "I appreciate the offer of letting me rest, but I honestly think if I was to lie down, I wouldn't wake before tomorrow. Would it be an imposition to go to the market now?"

"Not at all, Miss Harrison, let's make a list of all you'll need. Will you require toiletries and such?" he inquired.

"Those I have, but I will need to pick up a couple items, if you wouldn't mind stopping at a clothing store. I have my toiletries and sneakers in my carry-on bag, but that's it. My luggage may show up tomorrow, but that won't do me any good tonight," she said wearily. "Give me a few minutes to wash some of this grime off, and I'll be right with you."

She was still a bit crumpled, but Melanie appeared refreshed. She had abandoned the chignon, so that her dark hair hung in soft waves on her shoulders, giving a beautiful frame to her face. And what a face, Jeffrey noticed; not only the arresting teal eyes with their long eyelashes, but a cute nose and luscious plump lips. He smiled and thought they were the kind that invited a kiss.

Jeffrey thought the best place for most of her personal needs would be the Arndale Centre, a fairly large shopping mall. He tried not to notice as she looked over the lacey lingerie, choosing a nude colored bra and a couple of pairs of boy shorts, or the short nightgown she chose for sleeping attire. He was forced to help her with the sizing, and nodded approvingly when he was asked if the low rise jeans fit her all right. There wasn't much that wouldn't look good on this tall, statuesque woman. She grabbed a couple of v-necked tees and they were on their way to Tesco.

The Tesco food market was a modern grocery store. Melanie was surprised at the wine selection that was available. She explained that where she was from in New York, you could only purchase wine in liquor stores. After her ordeal, she felt she deserved a couple of bottles on standby. Jeffrey pointed out some good tasting, but affordable white wines.

She concentrated on fresh produce, fish and poultry, as well as her staples. Jeffrey advised her on a good wheat bread and a couple of kinds of cheese. She came to a complete stop when she looked at the tea.

"Until we can take you to a proper tea shop, PG Tips will be fine," Jeffrey told her.

Jeffrey helped Melanie into her flat, with all her packages. He automatically reached to put the kettle on for tea, while Melanie went to change. The sound of his stomach growling reminded him that they had yet to eat, since her arrival. When Melanie came back into the lounge, Jeffrey had her dining table set with mugs of steaming hot tea, grilled cheese sandwiches, and some cookies.

Hands on her hips she looked at him and smiled earnestly. "Mr. Blackstone, how will I ever thank you? I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been at the airport. I think you've gone well beyond the line of duty, taking me shopping, and now fixing something to eat."

"You can start by calling me Jeffrey, and allowing me to call you Melanie. I think spending the day shopping, especially for women's clothing, does entitle me to that. I'm leaving you my card. Before I leave, I'll go over the workings of your gas heater, and show you how to dial my number. If you find your luggage has arrived, I'll be more than happy to run you back to the airport."

"Oh no, I can't ask you to do that. I'll call a cab. You've tied up your whole Saturday with me, and I won't tear you away from your family on Sunday, too," she said.

Jeffrey grinned and said, "No worries, none of my family is close by. I normally use Sundays as a day for walking or painting. If your luggage arrives, we'll pick it up, deposit back here and then I'll run you over to the university and give you my own private tour. We'll also pick up the bus schedule so you'll know your way about. Classes start in another week, and we don't need the professor being late for class."

Jeffrey and Melanie chatted about the upcoming term, normal class sizes and the workings of the Art Department. Melanie shared her love of still-life and landscapes. She was partial to pastels and watercolors.

"What I miss most right now is my sketchpad and my books. No matter where I am, I always have them. It makes any place home for me," she said.

"I've never been any good at watercolors. I work in pencil, ink, and oils. My concentration of late has been a study of the human body. I've also been playing with photography, black and white, of course. The studios at school are great, but I'm also partial to the light I have in my library at home."

"Well Mr. Blackstone," she caught herself. "I mean Jeffrey; I'd be please to help you with watercolors, if you would take me under your wing when it comes to the human form. I have no problem with perspective, color, light, but ask me to draw a person and it comes off looking like a caricature.

After their light meal, Jeffrey made sure Melanie was comfortable with the workings of all of the appliances, and said his good byes. As he walked out to his car, he could see her watching him from the large dining window. He liked her, he decided. She was going to bring a fresh perspective to the art department and he decided this year could be quite interesting.

Jeffrey was awakened to a very excited voice on the other end of the telephone, announcing her luggage had arrived. Melanie could hear him yawn and stretch, but still he promised to be over within the hour.

"No, you don't understand, they're sending them to me by courier. You're free, you don't have to bother yourself with me!" she exclaimed.

"Nonsense, it was never any bother. Call me when you're settled and ready, I'll come by and take you to the university. There are some great pubs nearby and we'll grab a late lunch," Jeffrey told her.

He came by around two o'clock. It was a beautiful late summer day, not a cloud in sight. As Jeffrey maneuvered his car onto the university campus Melanie gasped. The campus was a mixture of 1800's buildings and modern architecture. Looking at Whitworth Hall, Melanie knew this was exactly the experience she was looking for, in her year as an exchange professor.

"Last year, we had over 40,000 students and more than 10,000 staff. Our library is one of the largest in the UK and our Observatory has the third largest fully-movable radio telescope in the world. Our teams compete in 28 different sports, where we've had some considerable success in the British University and College Sports competitions," Jeffrey spoke proudly, as he gave Melanie an overview of Manchester University. "Ah, here we are; the Whitworth Art Gallery."

Melanie stared at the large building. She had read about the collections of watercolors, sculptures and textiles, and started towards the entrance.

Jeffrey put his hand on her arm to stop her. "Unfortunately, it's not open. Maintenance staff uses the weeks prior to the start of term to make repairs, clean and polish the floors. Come on, I can get you inside the studios."

Their footsteps echoed in the vacant hallways. Melanie felt her excitement peak as she entered what would be one of her classrooms. The room was immaculate, because of the summer holiday. There was a glass display case exhibiting some of the pieces created by the students. She looked around the room and was in awe of the sketches that were affixed to the wall. She walked towards them to get a better look.

From a distance, she couldn't really tell what the object in the sketch was supposed to be. Upon closer inspection, she realized that these sketches were of the human body. There was the bend of an elbow, the back of an ear and neck, a collarbone and shoulder. The sketches could have been black and white photographs; they were that good.

"Wow. This kid is really good. Is this graduate work? Is he still a student here?" Melanie asked.

"Thank you, no, I teach," Jeffrey said proudly.

Melanie blushed and smiled, "You really are good. Do you think you can help me? I would give anything to be able to draw like this. I've tried, but it just never looks right."

"Have you had much practice? Have you worked with nude models? I find if I pick out just one part of the anatomy and concentrate on that, it's far easier for me. But no worries, we'll have plenty of time to work on that, as long as you remember our bargain," Jeffrey said with a bit of a gleam in his eye.

The term started and Melanie soon became a favorite among the students, especially the young men. Because she was young and new, she couldn't go anywhere on campus without being hit on by the adventurous. She didn't look anywhere near her thirty-two years, and Jeffrey found her to be the subject of more than one sketch, in his class. Melanie, of course, let the boys down gently, and professionally.

Jeffrey decided to hold a reception in his home, to celebrate the new term, and to introduce Melanie to the others in the Art Department. The lights glowed from every window, when Melanie arrived that night. She smiled at the urns containing flowers, flanking the entrance of his converted coach house, in West Didsbury.

Melanie could hear soulful tunes coming from inside, even before Jeffrey opened the door. The music was joined by the laughter of the party-goers, indicating a good time would be had by all.

Her heart skipped a beat as she entered his home, brushing by his hard body. He stood smiling at her, and offered to take her coat. He was dressed casually in a pair of black chinos, and a steel gray-blue v-necked sweater, that hugged is sculpted body.

He politely put his hand at the small of her back, guiding her towards the merriment. He had to admit to himself, the feel of her hips swaying beneath his hand had an effect on him, that he would have to take care to hide. She left his touch, to join another female professor, who was beckoning her to come over. He watched her walk away in her brown pencil skirt and crème colored cashmere sweater and thought, for just a moment, this woman had a killer arse.

Jeffrey had hired a bartender and waiter, so that his time could be concentrated on his guests. After a couple of hours, one by one the other professors started to take their leave.

"Excuse me, Jeffrey," Melanie said, coming up behind him. "May I use your telephone? I need to call for a ride home."

"Don't be silly Melanie; let me run you home," he said with a smile. "I can't have one of my guests be inconvenienced twice in one night, if you don't mind waiting until everyone has gone."

Melanie opened her mouth to object and was promptly shushed with his finger pressed against her lips.

"No arguments, Miss Harrison," he ordered and then turned to his remaining guests. Melanie had kicked off her shoes and was curled up in the corner of the leather sofa, after the last guest had left. Jeffrey returned and handed her a snifter containing a rich amber-colored liquid.

"I'm not much of a drinker," she said as she accepted the crystal glass.

Jeffrey had a glint in his eye as he said, "A little cognac never hurt anyone. It's good for the soul -- at least that's what my grandfather always told me."

He eased into the other end of the sofa and took a sip of the smooth liquor. Jeffrey couldn't take his eyes off of Melanie, slowly dissecting her.

"You're staring."

"And you're lovely. Do me a favor and don't move," Jeffrey requested.

He briefly left the room and returned with a sketch pad. Melanie said nothing and held her position. It seemed he made very few strokes with his pencil when he turned and showed her what he had done. It was a sketch of her long neck, her collarbone and a bare shoulder.

"Of course, I had to imagine you sans clothing," he said, causing Melanie to blush.

She tried to cover her embarrassment by joking and saying, "Well, just wait until it's my turn to imagine you."

Jeffrey stood and asked, "Tell me, did you get a chance to explore the house? Did you see my library? I'm really quite proud of it."

He led Melanie through the foyer to a carved wood door. When Jeffrey opened the door, Melanie was greeted by the sight of what she considered the perfect English library. The walls were paneled with dark walnut. Two of them held floor to ceiling bookshelves that were filled with beautifully bound selections. All of a sudden, the room was filled with a smooth jazzy saxophone sound. Melanie turned to see Jeffrey in front of a huge armoire, adjusting the sound system. This unit was devoted to LP's and CD's, hundreds of them.

There was a large desk in the center of the far wall, and behind it was an arrangement of brightly colored oil paintings; an easel stood nearby. Melanie immediately recognized Jeffrey's work, based on the examples in the art studio at the university. These were different, though. The posing and detail clearly defined the nude studies. Melanie tried to turn away, but a few of the paintings mesmerized her. One black and purple piece captured her attention. Upon closer inspection she could see it was a woman's breast, in a state of arousal.