Selling a Painting

"No, I think you look absolutely wonderful just as you are."

"I had forgotten what a thoroughly kind man you are," she linked his arm in hers and they went down to the lobby where the Sedan driver was waiting.

It was going on midnight before the car drew up again under the Porte Cochere and she turned to him with what he thought was a look of naked pleading in her eyes.

"Can you possibly stay the night?"

He merely nodded in reply but his heart was thumping as he went round to help her out of the vehicle then escorted the Comptesse into the lobby.

It was the small hours and Martine was still wide awake. With great care she shifted her position but nevertheless the slight movement woke Max instantly.

"Martine, are you alright."

He had already glimpsed the misery on her face before it was instantly closed off.

"No."

"Do you need a doctor?"

"No, I need you."

"But I'm here."

"I need you permanently."

"Oh."

He had no idea what she meant by that and his confusion was clear enough for her to continue.

"I need your strength, your understanding and your caring support."

"But..." She put her hand to his mouth stopping the words before he could speak although in truth he was completely out of his depth.

"Could you fall in love with me despite everything?"

Max paused to formulate his thoughts as she watched anxiously.

"I wouldn't find it hard to love you, but I know it would be a mistake. A man such as me could never have realistic hopes in that direction. After all, our circumstances are so very different."

This seemed to satisfy her, at least for the present, but she continued with yet another query.

"But have you no plans for your own future?"

"None. Other than a blind unfounded hope that I might one day own my own gallery."

"So you are not in love with anyone?"

She seemed to hold her breath then release it in relief after his immediate reply.

"No, no one."

She kissed him softly but her hand lower down was more demanding.

"Fuck me again Max, I can't get enough of you."

She was silent then until he finally heard Maxine cry out and subside as if dead to the world.

...

The butler did not turn a hair when he wheeled in the breakfast cart to find Max propped up in the bed and the Comptesse appearing from the bathroom clad only in a toweling robe and with wet trailing hair.

"Thank you Frank I'll take it from here."

Martine dragged Max out from under the bedclothes laughing at his very obvious erection and despite his complete nudity sat him at the table where she then served him coffee and croissants. But despite the distraction as she let her robe fall to the floor a nagging need to ring his employer soon overcame his pleasure.

"I have to be at the gallery, in fact," one glance at the clock was enough, "I'm already late."

He then watched fascinated as she picked up the telephone and was put through to the gallery owner.

"Yes Raoul, it's me. I'm here in New York...in fact I have already asked your Max Weinberg to come by and have breakfast with me...yes I am interested in the large Sisley...do you mind if I keep Max with me for the day...splendid, I'll be in touch shortly."

"So what now?"

He was curious as to her motive.

"First we have some shopping to do."

Once more he was forced into accepting a complete new wardrobe feeling as ambivalent about her reasons as he had back in Italy but again she brushed off his protests.

"Why is it that a man can show his appreciation for a women by buying her lavish gifts but the same man immediately feels demeaned if the tables are turned?"

"I admit to having have no sensible answer when you put it like that."

"Good, but now we have an appointment at a gallery uptown." She mentioned a name which he recognised merely by repute. "Do you know anyone there?"

"No, I just know of them."

"Good. Then you can come with me incognito and then give me your considered opinion once we've left."

She stalked into the place looking a million dollars with Max trailing behind. He was absurdly pleased that all day she made no attempt to hide the malformed side of her face, indeed she seemed almost to flaunt it as if daring anyone to be so crass as to stare.

The haughty receptionist quailed before the forceful Comptesse and they were shown around by the effete owner while Max said not a word although his eyes were everywhere.

Martine bought an early Georgia O'Keefe after haggling astutely to end up just under the true market value and then leaving her delivery instructions before the pair were once again ensconced in the hired Sedan.

"So what did you think?"

"There were three good pieces by established artists one of which you have bought but the rest was pretentious rubbish. Do you know who selects their stock?"

"That would be the man we met."

"Then I don't think much of his judgment," Martine was already nodding in agreement, "so I can't imagine that he is making much of a living"

She dropped him off at his apartment block casting an expressive eye over the downmarket neighbourhood even as she promised to send the car back later that evening.

He skipped up the four flights of stairs despite her purchases banging against his legs and sat nursing a coffee as he mused on the last 24 hours. But Max was forced to give up on guessing Martine's motives as he got spruced up for the night.

The show to which she took him was a English production which had transferred to Broadway and was currently wowing the New York critics. Later they went back stage at the invitation of the male star where in a crowded dressing room Martine was being courted by a theatrical promoter.

Having become separated Max found himself pressed up against the tasty bust of a half dressed ingénue.

"Sorry about this," she squawked in an unrefined English accent, "but I don't mind if you don't?"

Her stomach was now tight against his and as his erection stirred she grinned and wriggled salaciously.

"I'm his current bit of totty."

She nodded in the direction of the star as if that explained all but before anything could develop Max found himself being adroitly turned so that he was now pressed against the Comptesse.

"He's mine darling," he heard Martine say sweetly over his shoulder before she steered them out into the corridor.

"It's time for supper I think and tomorrow is Saturday so unless you have something else planned can we please spend the weekend together?"

...

So Max was a trifle bleary eyed when he arrived at work on Monday morning to be summoned immediately into the owner's office.

"Well done Max. I don't pretend to understand your influence over the Comptesse de Settimigla but she has paid full price for the Sisley, and unseen, so you will have another sizeable commission coming your way as soon as her bank draft is cleared."

...

Apart from a brief note regretting that she was required urgently back in Rome he heard nothing from Martine although two apparently unconnected items did arouse his interest soon after she had departed.

The first was an article in the press announcing that the uptown gallery which they had visited together had been sold to an unknown buyer and would be reopening at a future date with a complete change of stock. Second, and much closer to home, Max became convinced that he was being followed.

But then his mobile rang as he was on the street travelling between appointments.

"Darling its me." His heart lurched at hearing the Comptesses voice and his own temporarily seized up. "It's Martine, are you there Max?"

"Sorry, yes I'm here but I thought that you were gone forever."

"You won't get rid of me that easily. Can you visit me at the same hotel?"

"No problem. Shall I come at once?"

"Sooner if you can manage it."

She was like a wild animal until the first orgasm flooded through her body but grew calmer before the second after which they both fell back exhausted.

"Wow," was all he could manage as she lay panting.

"You see how much I missed you my love."

He noted the word of endearment but chose not to remark upon it as she retrieved a slim file from the bedside table.

"What's this?"

"Read it."

He climbed out of the palatial bed and sat in an easy chair where he opened the folder the contents of which at once absorbed him to the exclusion of anything else.

"So you were the unnamed buyer...but why didn't you tell me at the time?"

Then after having completed a second if rather quicker perusal he fixed her with an accusatory gaze but she replied without any trace of guilt.

"I am the new and sole owner of the Gallery, but not for long. We have an appointment later with my attorney which is when you will become an equal partner with full executive authority."

"What could possibly have made you think that I have the means to buy into such a deal?"

"You don't need to. It is my gift to us both."

"But why on earth would you want to do such a thing?"

"Because I can."

"That's rubbish and you know it. What's going on Comptesse?"

"It's simple, I know that you will make a lot of money for us both."

"So you also have a blind faith in my abilities?"

"Oh it's not blind. Read this second file."

She had come to sit in his lap bringing another folder with her but the naked flesh drove everything else from his mind so he refused to take the papers.

"Just tell me what it says, I'll read it later if I have to."

She had already settled herself on his miraculously restored erection and was moving her clitoris against his pelvis in a slow but purposeful way.

"I had a report prepared on the gallery at which you work."

Having had only one thing on his mind as his orgasm approached this made Max pause.

"What on earth for?"

"It confirmed what I have suspected ever since I first met you. It is you and you alone that has been keeping Raoul in a profitable business for so many years. It is you who has built up the stable of artists who sell regularly and for such high prices. Those he has chosen have without exception failed spectacularly."

"But he has always told me that my people were the least successful."

"That was a deliberate lie and you would know the truth if you had ever been allowed to see the books."

"Jesus, I had no idea. But will those artists that I discovered and nurtured follow me to the new gallery?"

"Why not? But you won't know until you ask them."

But by now her flagrant desire had reached fever pitch and they came together with a deep sigh of satisfaction.

...

Martine was a regular visitor to New York during the following months as the gallery began to take shape and the artists whom Max had previously championed had without exception decided to follow him to the new premises. But not before an unpleasant half hour with his previous employer which was abruptly halted once Max made him aware of his inside knowledge.

The Comptesse had insisted that the first job to be completed was the apartment above the gallery into which Max moved as soon as was possible.

"I am not walking up four flights to some dingy hole," she had said forcefully when the papers were being signed.

And now after the triumphant opening when every piece of work already had a sold sticker attached the pair were in his new bed.

"You see, I knew you would make money for us both."

But her hand at his groin found him for the first time ever in their short relationship entirely unresponsive for he was exhausted from the weeks of frantic work. It was as if he had kept everything running full tilt until now when at the moment of success both his body and his mind had simply shut down.

"Sleep my darling," she whispered as he drifted off.

He woke at dawn to find Maxine, as was her habit, sitting cross legged at the foot of the bed watching him. Her face broke into a happy smile when she saw his eyes open but she remained still until he triumphantly threw back the duvet to reveal a rampant erection.

"You have earned a holiday," her hips above him were rocking slowly setting a relaxed rhythm as she spoke into his ear. "so we will go to my hideaway at Sorrento and turn off the telephones."

Then as he felt her building to an orgasm he pulled her down to kiss the ravaged skin at her cheek and for the first time since they had been intimate she did not turn her head away either in protest or self-loathing.

They made love again half way across the Atlantic, high above the clouds. When she was with him Max concluded that she was making up for something he could only guess but nevertheless welcomed.

"When was the accident?" He asked as her head nestled on his chest. The reply was immediate as if she knew he would sooner or later voice this entirely understandable curiosity.

"I was eighteen and at the Sorbonne in Paris."

"So how old are you now." He suspected late twenties but her reply surprised him.

"Thirty five." It was said with complete honesty and no trace of apology. "It was a long time before I could appear in public and before you ask the obvious question you are the first and only man since the crash with whom I have had sex."

He could think of nothing adequate to say nor did she seem to expect a reply merely kissing his cheek and squeezing his hand before continuing as if a dam had been breached.

"For years I had no interest in sex, in fact my libido was none existent, but since about the time I turned thirty things have gradually changed. My body seemed to be wakening up slowly and over the last few years I have become increasingly inventive at solo sex."

She giggled deep in her throat.

"But somehow that seems to be so much less satisfying ever since the day I forced myself upon you."

...

"This is the Captain speaking. We are making good time Comptesse due to a following wind so e.t.a. Naples is in forty minutes."

A bullet proof Mercedes was waiting outside the VIP terminal and well within an hour they were being let through the security gates of a walled premises overlooking the harbour below.

"Like my father before this is my favourite place but for some unknown reason my mother never came here."

She linked arms with Max as they entered the house leaving behind the heat of the courtyard and held onto him even as she introduced the staff who were waiting.

"If it meets your approval I will have your bags taken to my suite?"

Martine looked uncharacteristically nervous until he answered in the affirmative.

"Thank you my darling."

There it was again, "love" and "darling". Was this some usual European way of talking or did she mean it in the way he understood? Well only time would tell.

Later while lying together in the midst of a fragrant bed of lavender she turned the conversation away from herself and towards his past.

"So not only do you have a Master's in Art History but you played college football at a high level, you've been in the Marines, and you are forty next month."

"How do you know all this?"

"I know everything about you." She grinned conspiratorially, "Surely you would not have expected me to take a partner in my gallery without checking into his past?

"Ahhh of course, that explains a lot, and you had me followed didn't you?"

"Not just followed. All your history was dug up. In the USA I discovered that you have the most efficient detectives I've ever come across."

"So you know about the women in my life?"

"The ones that were important, yes."

"And?"

"If I ever meet the woman who deserted you when you were in Iraq I will be tempted to scratch out her eyes."

"Oh she wasn't so bad. It was no life for a girl to be sat at home waiting to hear that her fella is dead or maimed."

"You are a fine man, but I've said that before." she turned on her back to worship the sun.

...

Martine kept her word in not taking or making any telephone calls for a week during which time she overwhelmed Max with her attention seemingly wanting to be in his presence every minute of the day and night, touching him, seeing everything anew through his eyes and never once consciously covering the scars which had for so long kept her out of the public gaze.

Max was also made subtly aware of the approval now being shown to him by the long serving staff of the villa. They clearly loved the Comptesse and were happy at the obvious improvement in her spirits which they evidently considered was entirely due to his presence in her life.

But all good things eventually come to an end so when a visitor arrived unannounced and was closeted with Martine for some time before departing just as quickly Max suspected that the idyll was over and life would soon be back to normal.

"That was my brother the Prince of Salerno."

She had come out into the gardens to find him.

"My god, a real live Prince!"

"Darling that's no big deal in Italy, here they are ten a penny, and besides which he has already gambled away all his inheritance on the stock market."

"But not your money?"

He saw her look of surprise as she incorrectly assumed that he had interests in that direction. Indeed he almost made an issue of making a denial until realising that whatever he said now would be open to misinterpretation. So he just kept quiet in the hope that it could wait until another time.

Then she recalled the purpose of her brother's visit.

"Somehow he has discovered your speciality and wants your professional help. But as always it's probably just a dream."

"Always?"

"So far anyway...but it would give me breathing space if you would consent to check out his so called find."

"Find?"

"According to him he has discovered a long lost masterpiece by an Italian Renaissance painter which he is sure will make him a fortune."

She proffered a grainy photo which Max examined closely.

"It could just possibly be the missing Francetti but who can tell from such a poor reproduction?"

"Will you at least check it out?"

"If you want me to, then of course."

They moved then to look over the harbour towards Naples with the view framed romantically in a stone embrasure. He took her hand.

"You must never think that I have designs on your money, my comment was entirely selfless. I am deeply grateful just to be a partner in the New York Gallery and I have no desire for anything more than that."

He saw first the undeniable relief in her expression but then a trace of what he was sure was regret until she kissed him lightly on the cheek and began recounting what was obviously an extremely abbreviated history of her riches.

"My father was a modern man but from an ancient family. By becoming a successful industrialist he increased the considerable wealth left to him by an uncle into a global fortune and now since his death I run the whole world wide business."

"Why not your brother, isn't that how things are normally done?"

"Yes, that's exactly how it should have been but the present Prince was never one for accepting responsibility so my father trained me to take over."

...

The following day her personal helicopter took them North and over the outskirts of Rome to set them down at a place she called Bracchiano. They landed in the grounds of a brooding stone castle set on a headland overlooking a large lake.

Martine's brother was waiting for them and being impatient to be off hauled Max over to a 4WD leaving his sister to the mercies of his wife.

"Make for Sutri." He ordered the driver.

They drove round the perimeter of the Lake before taking to the hills on ever deteriorating roads until by midday they were following a rough track with stones bouncing off the metal floor of the heavy car. Finally they arrived at a long abandoned Chiesa Femminile.

The driver parked beside a beaten up Fiat van and they found a goat herd standing waiting who when the two men alighted simply jerked a head for them to follow.