Portraits of Summer

"Oh, I don't know...I guess I spend too much time trying to figure out what I want to do with my life," I shrugged as I fiddled with the handle of my cup.

"That reminds me why I'm really here, Sonny," she said leaning forward slightly. "Those sketches you're working on of Summer. Are they good?" she asked.

"Good? Yeah, I suppose so," I said with a sigh.

"You don't sound too sure," she frowned.

I leaned forward and braced my arms against the edge of the table. "Are you a good publisher, Mel?" I asked.

"Well, yes...in my humble opinion, I'm the best publisher in the south."

"Then, you're better than good. You're the best you can be," I said trying to make a point. "I'm a good artist, Mel, but 'good' isn't 'the best'. The sketches I have so far are good. They just aren't the best I can be."

She hesitated a moment as she considered my evaluation of my work.

"I'd like to see them, Sonny. I'd like to judge for myself."

"Why?" I asked with suspicion.

"Well, for several reasons...let me see the sketches, and then, maybe we'll talk business. Fair enough?"

I laid my napkin aside and pushed back my chair. I half bowed and mockingly swept my hand towards the patio door.

"After you. They're in my room. I just hope you aren't too disappointed."

Mel followed me down the hall to my room. I swung the door wide and invited her in with an accompanying apology. "Sorry for the mess. I can cook, but I'm not a very good housekeeper," I muttered.

Mel laughed as she flopped down on the edge of my crumpled bed. I was somehow relieved to see a woman like Melanie 'flop'. I felt a little less intimidated as I gathered some of the stacks of photos and sketches and placed them in her lap. I watched her face as her expression turned serious and she scanned each portrait with a critical eye.

A half-hour passed in silence as she sifted through the stacks. When she viewed the last one, she looked up at me at last. She put on her best poker-face and I couldn't read her thoughts.

"Sonny, tell me what you think of these," she said as she tilted her head expectantly at me.

"They're missing something."

"What are they missing?" she quizzed.

I took a deep breath and shook my head.

"I'm not sure, Mel. I don't know. All I know is there is something about Summer I haven't been able to capture yet. I'm still working on it, though," I said defensively.

She nodded and trained her gaze on the stack in her lap. She gathered them and offered them back to me.

"Sonny, let's talk business a minute. You're right...these sketches are good; good enough that I can get you work right now. Are you interested?"

"Well, yeah...sure, I'm interested. What kind of work?" I asked.

"Cover-art. I can put you to work right now doing nothing but cover-art for books."

She paused.

"I don't see what it is that you feel you're missing in these, but that's an artist's instinct. You won't be happy until you figure it out for yourself. In the meantime, do you want to work?"

I nodded vigorously.

"You're damned right, I want to work. When can I start?"

"I can email you some layouts in the morning. You take a look at them. Decide what you want to do, how much time you'll need to complete them, and then we'll talk money."

I was elated by the prospect of working again, especially doing something I loved to do. There was a sudden feeling that began to gnaw at my lower stomach.

"Mel...why are you doing this?" I asked.

"Because your sister is a client...and a friend. Because I can make money on your work," she said as she came to her feet.

Suddenly, her arms were around my neck and she was looking at me like I was tomorrow's blue-plate special. She tilted her head and kissed the corner of my mouth lightly.

"And, because I think you're sexy..." She kissed the opposite side of my lips the same way. "Gorgeous...and I want you," she declared before her lips devoured mine.

The kiss was hot, steamy. My cock rose quickly at the prospect of having Mel in my rumpled bed. When she drew away again, something happened. There was a look in her eyes; it was one I knew well. But, there was also a dawning inside my head. In an instant, it came to me. This was the look that was missing in my sketches of Summer.

I shifted and created a slight distance between us. It was easier to talk to her without her breasts rubbing against my chest. I kept my hands on her waist, while I held her slightly at bay.

"Mel, if your offer is contingent on us sleeping together...I'm going to have to decline."

She looked taken aback by my words, but then, she stepped away from me.

"Alright, Sonny. We can keep this on a purely business level if you like. But, if you ever change your mind...you know where to find me."

"I appreciate that, Mel. If I ever change my mind, you'll be the first to know."

"Well..." she sighed heavily. "I guess I better go. Thanks for the dinner, Sonny. It was truly the best I've had lately."

I held her hand as I walked her to the living room to retrieve her purse. Then I escorted her to the door. I leaned down and gave her a chaste kiss on the lips. There was a disappointed look in her eyes, but she accepted my decision with grace.

"I'll send you the layouts in the morning," she reaffirmed. "Goodnight, Sonny."

"Night, Mel," I said as I watched her saunter to her car.

*****

After Melanie left, I sat down on the edge of my bed to think while I sorted through the drafted sketches of Summer once more. My thoughts returned to the original portrait of Summer, the one our Dad still possessed. I closed my eyes and conjured the drawing from memory. I knew right away, it had what I'd failed to capture in the most recent sketches.

There was something in the eyes of that sketch, some small detail, that set it apart from all the others. If only I could define it, recognize it for what it was, then perhaps I could recreate it in the collection of my more recent sketches. I'd seen it in Summer many times. That's how I knew it was missing.

I'd seen a hint of it in Mel earlier. Only what I saw in Mel was pure unadulterated lust.

I opened my eyes and laid the sketches aside. It had been a long day and I hadn't even cleaned up the kitchen from dinner yet. I sighed and wandered out of my room to finish the day's chores. I cleared away the dishes from the table on the deck and began work in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher and wiping away any evidence on the countertops of my having cooked.

The kitchen was spotless when I headed towards the shower. Summer still wasn't home.

I peeled off my clothes and stepped into a steaming shower, just what I needed to relax me and clear my thoughts. I bowed my head and let the water rain down on my hair. As I stood there under the hot water, I replayed the past few days in my mind. I was grateful the charity event had gone well. At least it was behind me, and I had a new job as a result. Maybe now, I could repay Summer for the expensive suit she bought for me. I reached for the shampoo and lathered my hair.

The suit. My eyes snapped open suddenly. That was it! That was when it hit me. The look in Summer's eyes when she saw me in the suit. The reason I hadn't been able to define it was because it wasn'tone emotion. It was a combination of feelings. Pride, admiration, affection, annoyance...lust.

Then last night, when Mel out-bid her for the date with me. Shock, anger...jealousy.

"Fuck!" I cursed aloud as I hurried to rinse the soap away. Why hadn't I seen all this sooner? I pondered as I turned off the water and stepped from the shower. I'd forgotten to bring clothes with me from my room. I wrapped the towel around my waist and flung open the bathroom door.

As I stepped into the hallway, I ran directly into Summer. The collision startled us both. I reached to steady her with both hands.

"Hi," I said quietly when we'd both recovered from the shock.

A look of disdain crossed her face.

"You're dripping all over the carpet," she reprimanded with a scowl as she brushed my hands away.

"Summer..." I began. I thought better of what I was about to say.

"I have a new job. Mel offered me a real job tonight."

"Now, why doesn'tthat surprise me?" she scoffed as she turned to walk away.

There it was...the look; a mixture of contempt, jealousy, and a hint of lust as she noted water dripping from my hair while I stood there like an idiot clad in only a skimpy towel.

"Summer, I have ajob. A real, honest to goodnessjob," I tried again. "It pays money and everything. I thought you'd be happy."

She turned to face me again with her hands combatively poised on her hips.

"Did it ever occur to you how your sleeping with my publisher might affectme, Sonny?" she snapped with fire in her eyes. "What part of that am I supposed to be happy about?"

I casually folded my arms and leaned against the doorjamb.

"You might've tried asking me first if Idid sleep with your publisher," I suggested.

"Fine! Did you?" she demanded.

"No. I didn't," I replied calmly.

"I don't believe you, Sonny. I know how you are."

"Go ahead, Summer, tell me how I am," I challenged her.

Her silence was golden.

"Ididn't have sex with Melanie. We had dinner and she looked at my sketches of you. She offered me a job which I accepted, and she left. That's all that happened."

"I'm supposed to believe that?" she scoffed.

"You would if you really knew me," I shrugged. "For instance, did you know that I like buttered pecan ice cream? Or, that I like watching kittens play with a string. And, I love old movies where the hero gets the girl even though he didn't know he was in love with her until the very end of the movie.

"I like listening to those annoying windchimes of yours...because they remind me of you. I like watching you take your first sip of coffee in the morning. And, I like watching you get mad over something stupid, like you thinking I slept with your publisher. I love knowing that you love me, Summer."

"I...of course, I love you, Sonny. You're my brother," she stammered as she averted her gaze.

"That's not what I mean, Summer, and you know it," I said shaking my head at her.

I unfolded my arms and stepped close to her. "Tell me I'm wrong, Summer."

I ran my fingers along her cheek as I tilted my head to kiss her. She tried to pull away from me, but I held her firmly.

"Sonny, you're my brother. This is wrong," she objected.

I didn't give her a chance to say anything more. I let the towel fall from my waist as I picked her up in my arms and carried her to my messy bedroom. I laid her in the middle of my bed and stretched out on top of her.

I rested my forehead against hers and whispered to her, "This may be the onlyright thing I've ever done in my life."

Every man has his Mona Lisa; the one who drives him to Van Gogh's level of madness. Summer was mine and making love to her was complete and utter madness in so many ways. It was like Christmas in July and I was careful not to tear into the package too quickly. I relieved her of her clothing one piece at the time and as each article was stripped away, it merely hinted at the gift it contained.

When she looked at me, her eyes were frozen lakes reflecting the morning sky; icy blue but melting, and black whirlpools of pupil that drew me in; they dragged me into the pitch that swirled at their center. They held the key to what I had been missing all along, what I'd instinctively known all my life, yet failed to understand.

I used my tongue as a soft, sable brush, and her body as a canvas; I painted it with long, slow strokes, bringing it to life with tender licks and kisses.

At first, she predictably followed the rules of Newton's third law and for each of my actions, she responded with an equally opposite reaction. I was not to be so easily deterred. If a war raged within, her body responded to each caress with humility and acquiesce. There was no resistance when I spread her knees with my own and she felt the heat of my sex pressed against hers. And still, I continued to ply her with kisses and murmurs of how beautiful she was and how much I loved her.

It was true we'd been born of the same womb, and presumably were conceived at the same time, but we were individuals and as different as any other two living and breathing souls. It was those differences that drove us towards one another. How odd it was to hear myself say that I was in love with a woman who was my sister and to know that she had not denied she was in love with me as well.

She showed the first sign of wanting to become better acquainted with my anatomy when she ran her hand along my shoulders and down my ribs. My lips were closed on one nipple, focused on coaxing it to attention and I flinched when her fingers flexed and her nails clawed lightly at my hips. I shifted my weight to one side, granting her access to examine my cock by feeling it in the palm of her hand.

She closed her fist tightly between the crown and the root, squeezing and testing the resiliency, pulling it closer to her. I signaled my encouragement in my throat and she answered with soft feminine moans. I knew she was anticipating how it would feel once fitted inside her.

Her cunt began to weep salty tears. At first, only a few; then a slow, drizzle before a cloudburst of soaking rain. I could smell the rain, a mixture of musk and earthy perfumes. I could feel electric flashes of energy between us and the faint rumble of desire building.

I climbed my way downward, between her thighs, and made an appetizer of my tongue by delicately feeding it into her. Her cunt was a delightful garden and the garden awakened with blistering heat and humidity. The exotic petals of flesh thickened and blossomed, smooth lush lips, opening to the core of her sex. I sampled the fruit with licks and sucks before threatening her with the edge of my teeth as a reminder of my authority.

Her clit swelled and ventured forth, begging my attention; pleading for both restraint and release at the same time. She gasped when I used my tongue as a whip and administered several sharp lashes as a form of teasing punishment and denial.

There are times when a man wants to bend and break a woman's will; a form of retribution for how she makes him crave her like an addict. I waited patiently for her atonement. When it came, it was music for soothing my soul.

Two words, no more nor less. "Sonny, please."

I rose to my knees, and planted my arms like pillars on either side of her to support my weight. As my cock penetrated her, she lifted her hips and my spine formed an arc with my shoulders and hips at zenith points. Like a sheathed blade, we were fitted to the hilt, and there was no room for her to take more of me, and no more of me to fit.

My hair still dripped, raining down cold droplets that silently splashed on the swells of her breasts. She moaned and let her fingers play in the small puddles on her flesh.

The fabric of the universe ripped and split apart revealing the dark void where the only light was in heaven beyond, and together, we journeyed towards it. There was no turning back as she quivered and her cunt closed around me. I roared like a man being crucified. Her cunt sucked and fed on the life I pumped into it, depleting the last vestige of bodily fluid from me while she suffered a similar wicked death.

I was completely spent when I lowered my weight onto her and made the effort to breathe again. I lay my head against the soft clouds of her breasts and closed my eyes as I listened to her heart wildly beating. I knew beyond all doubt that I would finish the sketches now. I'd found what was missing, both in my life, and in my art.