Terrible Taste In Tees

I was a late night drink with one of their team, when he stopped talking.

"Why can't we all look like that," he sighed, "it would be a lot easier to fill this place up."

I looked around.

Bree.

She saw me at the same time and her hand went to her mouth. She looked like she was about to run away when I motioned her over. She came, looking like she was going to the gallows. She spoke first.

"Chris, I swear I didn't know you were here. I knew you had a meeting, but I didn't know where. After we talked, I decided to give myself a small vacation. I'll leave tomorrow."

I believed her. I hadn't told her which branch I was going to be at, and I'm sure none of my friends would.

"Bree, relax, I believe you. But since you are here, would you please join us? I'd like your opinion on something."

She slid into the seat opposite, still uncertain. I had forgotten how beautiful she was naked. It made my heart ache. I introduced her as a model I had done business with over the years, saying I trusted her instincts. She seemed happy I hadn't introduced her as my ex.

I outlined my idea to her, and she loved it. She even made a few suggestions. The client was happy, very happy. After about an hour, he excused himself and left. We both had drank more than we should, nerves, I guess. Seeing as I wasn't screaming at her, she suggested we go to the dance club, burn off some alcohol. I had always loved to see her dance, so I agreed.

Just as we hit the floor, a slow song started. She looked uncertain, started to go back to the table, but I took her in my arms, the first time I had held her aside from that brief hug in two years. She felt so good I misted up. I felt my shoulder getting wet, looked down, and watched her tears flow. I started to pull back but she held me fiercely.

After the song ended she still wouldn't let go, holding me until another song started. Without a word she pulled me out of the club and down a path. We stopped at her door, she punched in the number, and when it opened she dragged me in.

Her mouth and hands were all over me. Soon she had her hand on my cock, stroking softly. My hands were doing their own roaming. Our lips locked as I squeezed her firm ass, reveling in the heat. I threw her down, got between her legs.

Just as I was about to enter her I had a flash of clarity. I tried to pull back, but she had those long legs firmly wrapped around me, and her pussy devoured me. I gave up any token resistance, pounding her relentlessly. She was moaning as I rode her. About halfway through my anger flashed.

"Slut!" I screamed, then "cheating cunt," "dirty whore," and "skank," among others I don't remember clearly. I do remember her agreeing almost every time, begging, saying she was sorry as I ground into her savagely. We were both bruised the next morning.

I woke the next day, bewildered but happy. I felt something on my chest and looked down. One blue eye was peeking through the tangle of blond hair, and when she saw I was awake, she rose up to kiss me.

"Doesn't mean anything," I said.

"I know baby," she said as she kissed my neck.

"You are not forgiven, understand?"

"Yes baby," she said, as she started kissing down my chest.

"I'm not taking you back."

She stopped, raised up and looked me in the eye.

"I know," she said quietly, before she went back to kissing my stomach. I reached for her head, but she went farther down, Locking her lips round my cock, refusing to let go as I tugged her hair. As I swelled, I just let go and lay back.

It the best blowjob I had ever gotten. She slid back up, buried her face in my chest, and cried quietly. I stroked her hair gently until she stopped. She finally rolled off me and went into the bathroom. I heard the shower start. She gave me an unspoken invitation and I shook my head. I let myself out.

She was gone that evening.

.................................................

The resort was looking for ways to drum up new business. My suggestion was making this site a destination resort, in this case, for weddings.

I mocked something up, and called Sherry. She was still busy, so she handed me off to the agency in Atlanta that Bree worked for. They set it up, the photographers, the models, the equipment.

They were all there two weeks later. I flew down with Leslie and Mary. I was talking to the photographer in charge, making sure everything would flow smoothly.

"Everything is good to go, except we had a no show on one of our models, car wreck. We're having one flown in late tonight, we'll be ready to go first thing in the morning."

We had dinner, a few drinks, and went to bed early.

We were there at dawn. The shoot should wrap up by late in the afternoon, and we were going to go over the preliminaries and pick the ones we wanted, which I would be taking back to the factory to set up for printing.

It was a wedding scene, the bride in a veil, a white garter on her leg, holding a large white bouquet. The groom wore a top hat, and all the men wore bow ties. The women wore matching lavender garters and held small coordinated bouquets. Other than that, they were naked. Bree was the replacement, third bridesmaid.

The slogan I was going to use?

"Getting Married? Be Sure To Wear Your Best Suit."

We did another where they were gathered around a huge birthday cake, with party hats on.

"Celebrating A Birthday? At Least You're Dressed For It."

The brochures and on line ads promoted both birthday and wedding packages, from really reasonable to very extravagant. The tee shirts would be available at the resorts and on line.

Bree stayed away from me until the work was done.

"Can we talk?"

I had been thinking a lot about what had happened. If nothing else we needed to clear the air.

"Sure. I'm having dinner with the clients tonight, would you like to join me? We'll talk afterwards."

At eight, we were in the VIP dining room, enjoying a five course meal. Congratulations were given, toasts were made.

"How is it you're not in the advertising business? Where do you get all your ideas?"

The major stockholder was trying hard to hire me to do all his ad and promotion work.

"I like what I do, and I have a very full plate. I was married to a model for a long time[I felt Bree stiffen]and a lot of it rubbed off on me. I guess I've developed an instinct for it. But there are some aspects of the business that have no appeal, so I stick to what I like."

"Too bad. I need a man pretty bad right now. I wasn't satisfied with my last, and we parted company."

"How about a woman?"

He looked at Bree.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said how about a woman? I'm a model, been in the business for years, and I have an eye for how things should be. I've also worked with people outside the business, very creative people, developing and executing campaigns. Chris can vouch for me, and I can give you references from practically everyone in the Southeast. I'd like to get out of modeling, I've lost my taste for it. This sounds perfect for me."

He looked askance at me.

"She's being truthful, and she had a degree in Public Relations she earned with modeling money. Hasn't used it, but I think you'd do well to consider her."

He agreed to sit down and talk to her after he'd seen her resume and checked her references.

The dinner ended on a high note. I walked her back to my suite. Stopping at the door, I gave her the speech I had rehearsed.

"We're not sleeping together tonight Bree. I need you to understand that before I open this door. We can talk, you can even stay here if you want. I have plenty of room. But that's all you get, a room. Do you understand?"

She looked confused.

"But two weeks ago was...."

Two weeks ago," I finished for her. "It shouldn't have happened. It just confused things. We're apart, and I for one remember why. Still want to come in?"

She just nodded and walked inside.

"Coffee?" I wanted a clear head. She asked for tea, and I made it for her. When we had our cups I sat her down in the living area.

She sat for a moment, sipping.

"Thank you for tonight. Do you think I can do a good job?"

"Yes I do. Bree, you've got a good imagination and a lot of experience. Heck, sometimes you do everything on a shoot but take the pictures. I think it's a great opportunity for you."

She smiled gently.

"Thank you. I'd like a chance at it. What I do, well, it's gotten old. I'm tired of being a gypsy. I want to settle down, stay in one place."

I stood, going to my briefcase. "I was going to mail it to you."

A medical report, stating I was clean.

She thanked me.

"You should have mine by the time you get home. I mailed it Thursday."

"Thank you." I said, meaning it.

We talked about the shoot, my ideas, her schedule for the next few months. Finally we ran out of steam.

She got to what she wanted to talk about.

"Will you explain something to me? All during our sessions you talked about the connection between love and sex. But after we broke up, you had sex with three women, often two at the same time. How could you do that?"

"You weren't really listening at all during those sessions, were you?" I stopped to gather my thoughts.

"There's nothing wrong with sport sex, per se, IF you're unattached. We were married. We made promises. Promises you broke."

"We're single now. But you're wrong. I love every one of those women. Les and I go all the way back to freshman year at college. Had each others' back, helped each other graduate. Mary was and is a friend. I didn't exactly have a mentor relationship with her, but I helped her when I could, and I'm very fond of her. Sherry and I have known each other for years, professionally and socially."

"So I had feelings for everyone of them. Not thirtieth anniversary feelings, but respect and fondness. We all knew it was going nowhere, I'm not bitter about Les and Mary going into an exclusive relationship, and Sherry has no interest in considering me a life mate."

I looked at her, to see if she got it. She was nodding her head.

"Still want children?" she asked quietly.

"Very much. If I can find the right woman."

The tears leaked out slowly while she fought for control.

"You will. You have too much going for you not to. And she'll be one of the luckiest women on the planet. I wish....never mind, not walking that path again. I'm tired," she said rising, "I believe I will take you up on that bed. See you in the morning."

We both retired, and as I lay in my bed I wondered if she was getting any sleep. I wasn't.

We had breakfast the next morning just before she left. She was an emergency replacement, and had another assignment. We kissed on the cheek, and she was gone.

...............................................

I was quiet when I got back, thinking. We did the shirts and sent samples to the customer. They gave us a very nice order.

Mary looked at the shirts, let out a whoop, and hugged me.

"This is it. How I want to get married. Let them handle everything and we'll just show up looking beautiful."

Leslie agreed and they started planning immediately. Four months later we were all on a beach, under an arbor. As the sun rose Leslie Kim and Marynell Johnson became Mrs. and Mrs. Kim. I gave the brides away. Sherry caught the bouquet.

The whole resort was at the reception that night, as wine flowed and congratulations were made.

I had to make a speech.

"One thing I've learned. Love is where you find it. When you do, you need to seize it and not look back. Raise your glasses, please, and join me in a toast to my good friends. May happiness and success follow you through your life, may love always be at your door, and passion always be in your lives. And if you have children, Chris is a nice name, for a boy or a girl. To Leslie and Mary!"

Later they had the first dance. Then they pulled me onto the floor, holding me tightly as we swayed to the music.

"Thank you Chris," said Mary, "I wouldn't be here if I'd never met you. Les and I want you to find love, you deserve it more than any one I know."

Leslie added to the sentiment.

"She's right. But, stay healthy, my clock is ticking, and you're prime daddy material."

I hugged them hard.

"Thanks. You're going to have to let me think about that. Enjoy a few years together first. Ask Amy, children change your priorities quite a bit."

I was the only one at the wedding alone. By my own choice.

I saw Bree in the papers for a few months. She did a lot of maternity work, the prosthetic baby bump making it look believable. She had done it before, and it excited me when I saw it, dreaming of the time it would be for real, but now it filled me with infinite sadness.

She disappeared when the resort gave her a chance, assigning her to the Cancun location, one I had never been to. I heard she was doing a really good job, making it a preferred wedding destination.

Leslie had made Mary her protege, teaching her all about our business. We had passed every goal she had set, to the point where she was a millionaire in her own right. I still went to my office, still kept current with the latest business, but pretty much left it to Leslie.

I painted more than ever before. It gave me peace.

I also put some of my paintings on shirts. Howling At The Moon was really popular, as was the Owl And The Wizard. Sad Ogre didn't sell nearly as well.

I had a one man show coming up, stuff I had worked on over the years. A few from my trip to Tahiti. One of my favorites, a nude featuring Alice, the middleaged housewife I met in Florida. She was hesitant at first, but I flew her, her husband, daughter and son in law down to the resort, and did the preliminary sketches and photos. After watching for awhile, her husband and son in law got bored and went off for a round of golf. Her daughter, seven months pregnant stayed. I took a few pictures of her while she protested, saying she looked fat and ugly.

"Nonsense, pregnancy makes women more beautiful than any other time in their lives. Let me do a watercolor and send it to you. If you like it, I'll do a painting, give you the fees, and the portrait. Fair enough?"

She agreed. Three months later, just after the birth of her daughter, I sent them emails of the paintings, telling her I'd send it to her after the viewing. They surprised me by flying down for the show.

Alice cried when she saw the painting. 'Portrait of Alice' was a contrast in shades, highlighting her face, with its' lines and planes, while casting her hip and one breast in shadow. I told her I would send it to her after the show. The state curator nearly had a heart attack, begging her to let him have it, and the one of her daughter.

'The Joy Of Motherhood' presented a full front portrait of Jasmine, her seven month tummy the focus of the painting. She held her hands to the bottom of her stomach, covering her pubes and empathizing her size, her distended belly button casting a small shadow, her milk swollen breasts and erect nipples were prominent, along with the joyous look on her face.

The Tahiti paintings were well received, but the highlight, the hit of the show, was a painting it took almost a year out of my life. It was life size, made from a picture I had taken of Bree just after we were married.

She was lying on red satin sheets, nothing covered. Her arm was slung over her head, her hair tangled, a small smile playing at her lips.

'Afterglow'. The only title I thought was appropriate.

...............................................

It took me three months to go to the storage locker. I just kept paying the fees. One day, at loose ends, I went to see what was there.

It was a jumble. I found a few of my old sketch books, a few pieces of furniture[most of it stayed with the house], a couple of paintings I had forgotten about, and two boxes of pictures, mostly of Bree.

I made myself go through them. When I found that particular one, which I had snapped after a really passionate round of lovemaking, I lost it. Sat on the floor of a six by ten storage unit and bawled my eyes out. Would I never get over her?

It was the only picture I kept, tossing the rest. I paid for another month, telling the manager to have some charitable organization come in and take what could be used, and toss the rest, and send me the cleanup bill. He looked at my red eyes and nodded, saying he would see it done.

I looked at the picture almost every day. It was like a form of self torture. Gradually I came to the conclusion I wanted to paint it, a self exorcism, I hoped.

Got it almost finished twice before flying into a rage and ripping it up. When I finally got it done, that particular version took almost nine months of steady work. Two more months of tweaking and reshaping, and I was through.

...............................................

Jasmine stood in front of it for a few minutes.

"Who is that?"

"My ex wife."

"She's so beautiful, almost like a model. I won't ask what happened, but from what I've seen of you, I can't believe it was your fault."

"Thanks. She actually is a professional model, or was up until a few months ago. It was a long time ago."

The curator begged and pleaded, until they agreed to let him exhibit them for three months, with the one of Bree, as a set. They got a very nice write up in the papers.

................................................

I hadn't fallen in love again.

I was rich, in good shape, fairly presentable[I had let my hair grow and had my goatee back, an artist thing, I guess], had good social skills. I met women through work, friends, my travels, but none of them captured my heart. The only hard and fast rule was I refused to date a model. It was kind of funny because I stilled worked with Sherry, and I got hit on every time I was around.

I bought a large house with ten acres of land out in the country, a steal due to the economic climate. Our sales were actually down for a while, but Leslie told me we were fine, and the numbers were rising again. I had a large studio built, the walls were mostly glass, as was part of the roof, with electronic shades. State of the art.

The only female that got close to my heart was Rorschach, a large mutt that just showed up one day. No collar, dirty, limping. I opened the door one morning and she rushed in, plopped on the couch and gave me a look.

It said, "you gonna feed me or what?"

I had to have the couch cleaned twice to get the mud stains out.

I gave her her name because of all her spots and splotches on her mostly white body. When I got her healthy she weighed close to eighty pounds. The vet estimated her to be around two. I tried to find an owner through ads and online, but no one came forward.

She had a great temperament, loved everybody and everything but cats. I think she must have had a bad experience with one when she was small. I saw her run one up a tree one Saturday and guard it for nine hours. Only her food bowl made her give up her post. The cat fled immediately.

I had her spayed and trained. She was my constant companion.

She was also a good judge of character. If I found myself dating anyone more than four times, I introduced them. If she liked them, I continued the relationship. If she didn't, we usually didn't last long.

I did a portrait of her. If Wyeth could paint his pig, I could paint my dog.

...............................................

Jay called me, the first time we'd talked in months. We had sold the comic book to Obscure two years ago, and he took a staff job, writing it and two others. He would call or email, give me a description of what he wanted, and I would draw something up for him. Most times they used my images. I never charged them.

"Hey, man? Guess what? I'm getting married!"

The new artist for Brunhilde was a woman, petite, attractive in a geeky kind of way, with a beautiful smile and expressive hands. I worked with her twice on the transition. They stayed with me for a few days, she liked the house and the studio. Jay showed her a sampling of some of my better shirts. She loved them, to the point she was sneaking them into the comic, a stray character here and there with one on. With permission, of course, and every so often she'd let people know that they were actually real, and where to get them. Their friendship grew into love.