Naked Portraits Pt. 12

Notes from the author:

Hello reader. In parts 9, 10 and 11, I introduced Alyson Reese. The real person Alyson is based on is described as Asian, tall, shapely and blond. All of that was clearly stated on the flash drive I had accidentally procured from my old job. Read the introduction in part two for the history of the flash drive if you like. Of course I was guessing at the color of her pubic hair. Hell, I don't even know if a person with dark hair in their family background can even have blond hair, let alone blond pubic hair. According to my editor, pure blond pubic hair is just an urban myth and exists only in Japanese animated porn. I know I can go on line and get all the facts on pubic hair, but I like the idea of Alyson Reese being blond allover, so I'm sticking to the myth.

Speaking of my editor... he's been dogging me to pare down my chapters again. He thought the Alyson Reese golf course scene gratuitous and that it meandered too far from Gwen Yoshimura, the principal star. The little story came together from a hand full of email corespondents on the flash drive between Alyson and a friend. No way I was going to leave it out.

Enough pointless notes. Enjoy the story.

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Chapter 54 Visits From Queen of the Nile and Goddess of the Sea

Alyson Reese, Aly to her friends, Asian, naturally blond, impossibly tall, genetic scientist and reluctant former beauty queen, changed the dynamics of the group. The anthropology and biology buildings were right next door to each other on campus making it easy for Aly and Hawk to hook up on a daily bases. Naturally, everyone assumed that they were a couple and since they were academic equals, there was no stigma connected to the relationship. Of course I didn't like it at first, but at the same time it was kind of a relief. I always worried Hawk could get fired for dating a student, even though I'm a graduate. Matt and I are seen together more often than Hawk and I, so everyone assumed we were a couple too. The only people who knew the truth about the group thing was Paul Gleason and Meka Okuda.

Anyway, the moment Matt was done with a class, he'd head my way. He really enjoyed showing his affection for me in public, and to be honest, I dug it too. Matt is loving and silly, opposite Hawk, who is always so manly and reserved.

Matt did have a moody side though, and it manifested when he was working on a story. As an artist, I TOTALLY understood that side of him. Occasionally, we would get together in my studio, he would write and I would paint. Usually, I don't like company when I'm painting, but sometimes it was nice having someone like minded to brood with. But mostly, Matt gives doubly spectacular head when he's brooding. I can't say why but I'm not knocking it. Aly learned that about him too and has taken to inviting him over to her place when he's in the mood to write. Lucky for me, Matt seemed to like writing in my grubby little studio more.

When the four of us got together off campus I'd hang off of whichever lover I wished. Aly particularly liked having both guys draped on her. I kind of liked that too but was never totally comfortable doing it in public. And sometimes it was tough sharing the guy's affections with her in view of others. In private, though I have no problem whatsoever. No way I could I have done this with my old friend Betty.

My head returned to the here and now, it was Friday and my bimonthly portfolio review had just ended. As I packed away my portfolio, I marveled at how well it had gone considering I didn't show a single painting, which was ironic, because I was in the middle of a very productive period. But no way was I going to show my nudes to the review board. Not with Erma Beaumont still in the mix.

In desperation, I had submitted a stack of old charcoal and pencil drawings. The review board accepted my return to basics spiel, but I knew this was a one-time thing, and with the next review, I had better have paintings to show. Erma Beaumont, my neglected mentor and adviser, had sat silent throughout the review, offering no words of encouragement, or even discouragement for that matter. Her silence was a little unnerving, but I was glad for it. Apparently, Beaumont's heart was already in San Francisco thinking about her up coming one woman show. Near the end of the review, I offered up a silent prayer of thanks to Wahinelani my forest goddess on Maui.

How did I go from a secular, non practicing Shinto to a an idol worshiping pagan?

Den Kang, head of figure drawing and painting was the last to leave. I've been meaning to talk to him about something big for a while. I decided that now was the time. "Professor Kang? May I have a word?" I asked.

"Is it about why you holding back your figure paintings from the review board?" He asked in his usual gruff fashion, his heavy local accent added a stern edge that made me cringe.

My jaw dropped. Aside from that one time when I audited his class a while back, there was no way he could have known I've been painting nudes, but apparently he did. I didn't know what to say.

"No worries," he said, "Your secret safe with me, but this review was big waste of time."

My cheeks turned red that he had seen through my ruse so easily, but I was also touched that he had kept it to himself. I was about to ask how he knew I was painting figures, but decided not to bother and went right to what I wanted to talk to him about. With a lump in my throat, I asked, "Will you be my adviser?"

He gave me a leveled look. "What about Erma?"

"We don't see eye to eye lately," I said, dropping my gaze, unable to look into his stern eyes.

"Very unusual to make this kind big change so late," he said.

I could hear the disapproval in his voice. I looked up, ready to apologize for showing such disloyalty toward Erma, but Professor Kang spoke on.

"The review board will not look on this with favor. Make you look flighty, indecisive."

I nodded, agreeing that it would put me in a bad spot. Kang went on.

"I go talk to the head of the portfolio review and put in a good word. I do my best make your case."

My eyes dropped again and my heart sank. The head of the review was Erma Beaumont. I was about to tell him not to bother, but he kept talking.

"Erma's big show coming up. Last week she step down and they picked new head."

I looked up in surprise and then nearly gasped when I saw that Professor Kang was doing something I had never seen him do in all the years I've known him ... he was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"I new head of review," he said. The grin disappeared like it never happened. "I your adviser now. Next time you show paintings, or I march you out! Understand!" His words were stern but his eyes still showed the Cheshire grin. He gave a little nod, hefted up his shoulder bag and left.

I stood with my jaw hanging open in shock and awe. "Fucking unbelievable," I said aloud. And for the second time today, I offered thanks to my goddess. Now all I had to do was inform Erma. I debated if I should talk to her face to face or shoot her an email. A cowardly email sounded much more appealing at the moment.

I kicked the door of my studio open and dumped my portfolio in a corner. Sitting on my easel was a portrait of Matt done in the style of Vincent Van Gogh, the first non-nude I had done since I started in on painting portraits. I did the painting in an hour at Aly's house. We were all sitting at Aly's landlord's pool deck drinking beer and there sat Matt with his bearded chin in hand reading a book. It made me think of Van Gogh's Portrait of Dr. Gachet and I just had to paint him. In place of the old Doctor's white hat, Matt is wearing a Cleveland Indians baseball cap and a green t-shirt with the Heineken logo on the front. In the painting, like the Van Gogh original, Matt is resting his chin in his hand with the elbow propped on the table, looking out at the viewer. In Van Gogh's painting, the figure has some kind of flower resting on the table, in my painting Matt has a Budweiser and a paperback book laying open face down before him.

As I looked at the painting, a state of panic gripped me. Insanely, I had accepted the China Cup show slot come next April.

That's not enough time! My artistic brain screamed at me. To add to my anxiety, I just found out from Meka the other day that Erma Beaumont was the artist I was replacing at the China Cup. Getting a show at the Cup was no small thing. The waiting list was years long. Meka told me the owner was livid when Beaumont jilted him. The guy was her number one fan and has bought scores of her paintings over the years. He was so pissed that he loved the idea of giving her spot to one of her defecting students. I suspect the idea was planted in his head by Meka.

Impulsively, I pulled out my resent nudes to judge them worthy, but more to the point, did I have the guts to show them in public? A knock came at my door. It was a quiet knock, but in my hyper state it sounded like a bomb going off. My heart rate doubled as I hastily, threw a large piece of craft paper over Matt's portrait and returned the nudes to the rack just in case it was a member of the portfolio committee. Then a horrible thought occurred to me, Professor Kang had let Erma know I was dumping her as my adviser.

"Fuck! I should have kept my big mouth shut!" I said in a panicked whisper.

I was positive Erma was standing outside my door ready to lay in on me for my defection to the figurative. And worse! She knew I was taking her spot at the China Cup and came to tell me how unworthy I am on top of my disloyalty.

"Cool your jets girl!" I said aloud. I took a deep breath to calm myself.

I opened the door to find a pretty local girl, probably Filipino, with long dark hair, in jeans and a yellow shirt standing in the dingy hall. A substantial purple backpack hung on her right shoulder. She looked familiar but I couldn't place her. I was so relieved that it wasn't Erma Beaumont, I rudely stared at the girl and didn't say a thing for several seconds.

"Sorry. I'm bothering you," The girl said in accented English. She dropped her eyes and turned to go.

My manners caught up with me and I said, "Hey wait, sorry, what can I do for you?"

Without a word, the girl handed me a piece of paper she had clutched in her hand. It was a pencil drawing of an animal skull done on a piece of standard computer paper. The drawing triggered my memory; she was my impromptu biology lab partner of a month ago when I went to spy on Aly. But I was sure I knew her from somewhere else too ... but where? I looked at the drawing, it was done by a beginner, but one with heart and talent.

"You did this?" I asked.

The girl nodded.

"It's very good." I said. She was clutching a spiral bound Strathmore nine by twelve inch sketchbook to her chest. "Come in," I told her. She stepped into my studio and I closed the door. "May I see your sketchbook?" I asked, positive she had come to show it to me. She nodded and handed it over with a look of apprehension and relief.

"My vole skull is not good like yours but I tried to copy it many times. That one is the best," she said. She spoke clearly and deliberately. Apparently English was a second language for her. But even with her strong accent, I understood her easily. The girl's sketchbook was filled with sensitive drawings of small animals and insects. Most were in pencil but a few were in ink. There was a drawing on almost every page, sometimes on two sides.

"They're all very good. Especially this one," I said holding up a detailed ballpoint pen drawing of a spider double or triple its natural size.

"I want to become an art major!" she blurted as if she were coming out to me.

"Um ... Okay," I said perplexed and amused at her emotional out burst.

"Are my drawings good enough? Can I be an art major?" she asked with honest anxiety.

I almost laughed out loud thinking of some of the untalented people I knew that have declared themselves art majors; Paul Gleason came immediately to mind. "You might want to bring this up with your parents," I said. I cringed for mouthing such a statement. Ever since declaring myself an art major, its been a rough road with MY family.

The girl smiled for the first time. She went from pretty to radiant just like that.

"My parents will be overjoyed at the news, happy that I made the decision," she said. "They liked my drawings too."

"I'm glad," I said, envious of her obvious confidence in her parents support. "Is this your freshmen year?"

She nodded.

"Okay. Go down to the art office and ask for an art major's class requirement sheet. Everything you've taken to this point will apply to the major. Are you in any art classes now?"

She shook her head.

"No worries. I'll give you a list of beginning instructors I like. I can make a list of text books they use too. You can find the books at the library. It'll give you a head start, but I don't recommend you buy any of the books because the list may change next term."

She beamed me a huge dazzling smile.

I stuck my hand out. "I'm Gwen Yoshimura art graduate extraordinaire. My focus is studio painting. What's your name?"

"Neffie," she said shyly shaking my hand.

"Neffie? Is that short for something?"

"Nefertiti. My full name is Nefertiti Margarita Ulamat."

"Really?"

She nodded. "I have two older sisters one named Cleopatra and the other Hatshepsut."

"Hatshepsut? Really?"

She nodded. "Both my parents teach Egyptology. They met at the University of Manilla and now they teach at Palolo Valley College. I always wondered what they would name us if we were boys. "I'm soooo glad that I didn't get stuck with Hatshepsut. We called that sister soupy, and when we're fighting, Shit-soup."

I laughed. "I was thinking just that," I said as I reached for a pen and a piece of paper to write down the list of beginning teachers and text books.

"I live paperless," Neffie said as she dug through her purple backpack, pulled a couple of things out that were apparently in the way of a sleek little laptop.

"How did you track me down?" I asked as she plopped the laptop on my desk, opened it and fired it up.

"On line. You signed the drawing you gave me at bio lab, G. Yoshimura. That's all I had to go by. I Googled your initial and name, slash Honolulu University, slash art major. I got all I needed including your studio number."

"Really?" I asked mildly freaked that I was so easy to Google.

"Yes. Tell me the classes and books, please."

I told her and her fingers raced over laptop keys. She shut her laptop, opened her sketchbook and tore out a drawing and handed it to me. It was the ballpoint pen drawing of the spider I had just admired. "That one is my favorite. I know it's not the best but it would honor me if you would accept it," she said shyly.

"It's a great drawing. I love it."

She shoved her laptop back into her backpack and made to leave.

"Wait, I know you from before the bio lab," I said. "Where from?"

She paused with her hand on the door nob. After a couple of beats she said softly, "Truth or dare."

I shook my head, still lost.

"In the hall of the dorm towers months back," she said close to a whisper, turning red with each word. "I was with my cousin Elmer. You were naked ... twice."

I recalled the night running around naked on Hawk's floor. I covered my reddening face and said, "I am so sorry. I don't know what had gotten into me that night."

Neffie giggled in spite of her embarrassment. "My cousin thought you were very pretty. He carries his phone in his hand when he walks in the hall hoping to get a photo of you naked, even when he goes to the shower. I thought you were pretty too." She gave a cute smile, a tiny wave and left.

Oh my God. The girl probably thinks I'm a perverted wacko.

I pinned Neffie's spider to my crowded bulletin board. The girl had spent some time on the creepy thing, the detail was impressive. A knock at the door exploded and I jumped out of my skin. "You are so fucking wired today," I said with a laugh. I opened the door a crack to see who it was.

"Hiding from Beaumont?" Meka asked standing outside my door looking good in a black skirt and light blue top.

"You look nice," I said, letting her in.

"Perk of being an art history major. No mess," she said as she plopped her long body down on my beat up old loveseat. "How did the review go?"

"Good actually," I said, "but I'm in a shit storm next review if I don't show up with fresh paintings." I told her about my encounter with professor Kang.

"God almighty! Free at last!" Meka said clearly happy for me. "What are you hiding?" she asked as she eyed the painting covered with craft paper on the easel. I pulled the paper away from Matt's portrait. She barked a laugh at my parody of Van Gogh. "This is great kid!"

"It was too much fun to be great." I said, but still beamed at her compliment.

"I got an invite to a very exclusive club tonight. You wanna come?" Meka asked.

"Sorry. Can't. Me and the gang are going to watch Honolulu play San Jose at Mama Rosa's. You can come if you like."

"No thanks. I'm in the mood for a club. Besides, I don't wanna be the fifth wheel at one of your orgies."

"It's a public place," I said. "Odds are we'd leave our clothes on."

Meka laughed. It was deep and sexy. She looked stunning sitting with her long legs crossed on my loveseat. I'm sure the boys would LOVE for you to join the fun, I thought, but kept that comment to myself.

Meka stood to leave. "I'll find Sally and Oleander and give Emmett the best fag hag entourage on Oahu." She pulled something out of her shoulder bag. "Got you your very own personal goddess." She walked to my bulletin board and pinned an eight by ten black and white photo of Wahinelani in dappled sunlight next to Neffie's creepy spider drawing. "I was on Maui last weekend and took that photo. Enjoy the game." She left.

I grabbed my backpack and headed to the staircase to meet up with Aly at biology. As I bolted down the stairs, someone called my name. I stopped to see who it was.

Li Hong smiled sweetly down at me from a couple of stairs up. I had rushed right passed her. She wore designer jeans and a silk red top, her hair was a little longer, less boyish, more of a bob now, an expensive looking bag hung off one shoulder. The woman glowed with health and energy.

"Oh wow... hi," I said unable to hide my surprise.

"I've come to see you," the Olympic champion said. "Is this a bad time?"

"No," I lied, too polite to say I was in a hurry.

"Good. Can we talk in your studio?"

I nodded and we tromped back to my studio.

As I opened the door, I thought of our kiss in this very space a couple of months ago, then naturally, I rehashed our second kiss underwater a few hours later on that same day. As the door shut I worried she had came to get more of that. I hoped not. Plain and simple, I just wasn't into girls.

First of all, you kissed the chick twice, my raunchy lizard brain said. And have we forgotten that moment with Betty in San Francisco?

They were drunk, my logical side answered.

And Emiko? Everyone was sober that time? lizard persisted.

It was one of those fleeting moments. Nothing would have come of it, logic reasoned back.

Come on we're all curious here, lizard said. Why not find out what it's like?

Logic didn't dispute lizard on that point.

"You are gorgeous," Li exclaimed.

I"M NOT A LESBIAN! I nearly yelled at her.

Fortunately, I had kept my mouth shut. She was commenting on the nude of me with the net float. The chick had started flicking through my stack of paintings without asking. How rude.

Our eyes met and hot panic instantly seized me. My brain raced for a way to gracefully exit without offending her, but running in blind panic seemed my only option.