The Joke is On You, My Dear

David and Sandy sipped their wine appreciatively. David observed, "This wine is quite nice. We were just taking a stroll before supper and happened by. Thought we would stick our heads in and say Hi. Sandy is also still looking for her painting and wondered if you had come across anything interesting."

Hector nodded, "Good, I am delighted you stopped in. As a matter of fact Sandy, our discussion back before Christmas sparked my interest. I just finished an oil painting you might be interested in. Bring your wine and let's go take a look."

Sandy trailed behind Hector and David who were chatting away like lifelong buddies. She felt like the proverbial cat on a hot tin roof as they approached the rear of the gallery where the nudes hung. Her mind slipped back over recent events.

She had flown to Santa Fe the same afternoon that David had left on his Canada trip seven weeks ago. Hector had convinced her on the phone that morning that she should pose for her own nude to hang behind her bar. An idea had started to gel in Sandy's mind about what she wanted.

Sandy checked into the old historical hotel near Hector's gallery shortly after five that afternoon and met Hector in the hotel restaurant at six for dinner. They made small talk, gave the waitress their meal selections, and ordered a bottle of Syrah from the sommelier. Hector poured them each a glass, and they sat back.

Hector said quietly, "I know you are a little nervous Sandy but relax. This is going to be a great experience. But I need to get a feel for what you want. How far do you want to go? What is the impact you want? The artist and the client, who in this case is also the model, have to be in total sync to produce a great painting."

Sandy tried to speak but her mouth was dry from nervousness and her voice squeaked. She stopped and took a big sip of wine. There, that was better. She started again, "I want to be the nude model for my painting ... I think. But I do not know where to even start after that."

Hector smiled understandingly. "That is a beginning. Okay, lets work up from the basics. How naked are you willing to be and how much do you want your identity disguised? Think about it from the perspective of what we looked at last time at the gallery. You can be like my ex-wife with just your back showing but essentially nude, face not visible, and completely anonymous. You can be like Kristin at the window where you can have different levels of revealing dress depending on the setting and can have different levels of anonymity depending on how you are turned, lighting, obscuring curtains and the like. Or finally you can be like Kristin on the bed and let it all hang out after getting laid.

"Once we establish the ground rules we can build up a concept. I have several interesting ideas in mind. Who knows, we might have to do several paintings!"

Sandy blushed, took a deep breath, and quavered, "After our phone conversation this morning, I ... I thought about nothing else on the plane all the way over here." She took another slug of wine finishing the first glass. Hector refilled her glass and added a dash to his hardly touched glass.

Sandy took another sip and then answered Hector clearly in a firm voice, "I want to be fully naked, and I want it to be obvious that I just had sex. Like Kristin on the bed. But I want to remain anonymous, if it is possible."

Hector was curious but gently said, "That sounds fine Sandy. That sounds doable."

Sandy's voice faltered, " I ... I know what that means. ... I understand to get the sexy painting ... Its like Kristin and Monica and their paintings ... You know, you and I, and well, I understand, that's all!"

Hector laughed warmly, "Sandy that certainly enhances the rapport between the artist and his subject. And frankly in photography and painting, the real thing can be hard to fake. If you want to look like you just had sex, it works best if you just did. We can work on that. Now tell me what you are really trying to say with this painting."

The conversation blossomed enthusiastically as they hashed out possible ideas over supper and an after-dinner cognac.

As they departed their separate ways Hector stopped Sandy and gave her a warm kiss. When they broke the kiss he said, "See you at the gallery at 8:30. We'll start with some conceptual rough ups and develop it form there. It will take time. This will be fun and will produce just what you want."

Sandy's first trip lasted a week. She made three more trips that lasted two to three days each. Her trips, of course, coincided with David's trips out of town. Sandy returned from the last trip barely a week ago.

Hector made posing nude for her own painting sound like a great and exciting adventure on the phone, but today with her husband striding along in front of her, Sandy was not so sure. Hector said he would fix it so nobody could identify her. But Hector wouldn't let her see the painting until today. She had no idea what she and David would find in a minute. God, I sure hope Hector fixed it, she thought morosely.

Sandy smiled. Well, she certainly thoroughly enjoyed the fringe benefits of being Hector's nude model these last two months. She had never been unfaithful before, though she knew several of her "trophy wife" friends had lovers on the side. She suspected David enjoyed a sexy little chickadee here and there in his travels. It would be just like him, and he would think nothing of it. Consequently, she didn't feel bad about her own little dalliance. Sandy almost laughed out loud; to call what Hector did to her a little anything would hardly do his performance justice!

Each morning she was in town she would pose for Hector for about two hours. If it was any more than that, he claimed she got too fidgety to paint. They typically had sex before the posing session started to set the atmosphere for the painting. He fucked her avidly afterward because for two hours he had been absorbed in seeing and reproducing her exquisite nakedness. He said he just couldn't stand it - that might be the real reason the posing sessions only lasted two hours Sandy thought as she grinned to herself.

They had to let the oil paints applied in the morning dry so they would go to lunch and then Hector would give her the insider view of Santa Fe. Her article on Santa Fe was going to be an award winner! They ate dinner every night at a different restaurant and returned early to her room in the old historic hotel near the gallery.

Hector was utterly bewitched by Sandy. He just could not get enough of her. He accused her of being the mythological siren drawing men to their destruction with her beauty. Sandy enjoyed her effect on men and took her own lusty delight in the physical side of life.

What they did in her hotel bedroom at night was not the genteel love-making or romance of the 'Ladies' Home Journal.' Sandy happily spread her legs in a welcome banquet of fleshy treasures for Hector. It was a feast which he devoured nightly, and she reciprocated. This was the passion of primeval Neanderthals rutting before recorded time. They thrust and counter-thrust, groaned, bit, clawed, screamed and roared as they consumed each other over and over again. No telling what guests in the adjacent rooms thought! Finally exhausted and sated, they collapsed into a sweaty, sticky tangle and slipped off in contented slumber.

Sandy came out of her mental reverie as Hector stopped at an alcove at the rear of the gallery. He flipped on a light, and waved for them to enter. David led the way.

Sandy glanced at Hector. He winked and gave her an encouraging smile. He nodded for her to follow David. Sandy walked into the alcove trembling with both excitement and fear. David stopped and let out a whistle. Sandy stepped to one side, took a deep breath, and peeked at the painting hanging on the wall.

There she was in all of her magnificent naked glory on a 36-inch by 48-inch canvas. She lay on rumpled sheets in her room at the old historic hotel. In the painting Sandy lay facing the room's window through which bright sunshine streamed. The sunshine bathed her in detail with dazzling light. The rest of the room was in deep shadow.

In the painting, Sandy lay on her right side with her right hand shielding her eyes from the sun - and providing some disguise of her identity. Her legs were slightly curled and her left hand rested on her left thigh. A wedding ring sparkled in the sunlight. Hector had substituted a simple gold band for the ornate wedding band and engagement "rock" David had given her.

As she lay there, Sandy was smiling contentedly in a delighted, post-coital doze. Her ample breasts with their perky, aroused nipples splayed unabashedly for public inspection while wisps of her pubic hair peeked out mischievously from between her curled legs.

Once during pillow talk after one of their bouts of sex, Hector asked her what color hair she would like if she wasn't born blond. Now she saw why. In the painting Sandy's long, curly blond hair was transformed into a beautiful cascade of coppery auburn. My goodness, she looked magnificent as a red head!

Anybody who knew her would recognize the similarity between the woman in the painting and Sandy. However, the hair color change and shielding hand over her eyes gave her plausible deniability.

Hector had left her dark blond pubic hair its natural color. However, the hair was dark enough and sufficiently indistinct that only if you knew to look and looked very carefully would you realize that the woman in the painting was really a blonde and not a red head. It was Hector's little joke. He said he would have one but hadn't told her what. She would have to let several of her closest girlfriends know the truth about the painting and share this little joke with them too - and hope to God nobody else noticed this almost hidden, little incriminating detail.

Sandy inspected the painting further. In the background gloom, an indistinct man sat on a chair pulling on a cowboy boot. He wore jeans but no shirt, revealing a muscular and lithe back. Sandy smiled. She had spent enough hours with that naked man to recognize Hector even in the indistinct gloom of the room and with the man's averted face.

It would be scandalous good fun to have all her and David's friends discussing the painting and speculating about the woman and her lover. All the time, she and a few select friends would know that the painting showed the real naked and well-fucked Sandy with her artist lover.

Hector came in and stood beside David murmuring, "The painting is entitled 'My Neighbor's Wife.' What do you think of it."

Sandy bit her lip to keep from gigg;ing when she heard the title. She answered with a deadpan voice, "I am sure there must be a story behind that title."

Hector replied in an amused tone, "My neighbor travels often. As you see his wife is both beautiful and adventurous. She's not one to sit around home alone watching soap operas and getting fat. You can guess the rest."

David laughed. "You lucky dog. Does the husband travel often and more importantly does he suspect anything?"

"Ah, he travels quite a bit but is not the suspicious type."

David was mesmerized by the painting. He muttered to hector, "Umph, if I had a wife like that, I would certainly worry about somebody poaching her."

Sandy struggled not to laugh. She exclaimed excitedly, "I love it. We'll take it."

David said firmly, "Oh. I don't know about that, Sandy. We can't hang a naked woman, no matter how beautiful, over our bar."

Sandy wheedled and pled to get the painting. Hector explained how nudes were the new hot fad in the art market, Surprisingly, in the end, David put up little real resistance. He too was enchanted with the gorgeous, naked woman in the painting.

The trio returned to the cash register in the front. Hector would crate up the painting and ship it to them in Dallas. It should arrive at the end of next week. Sandy excitedly said she would hang it behind the bar just as soon as it arrived.

Sandy watched with a contented smile as her husband wrote out a check for $15,000 to the man who fucked his wife for the past two months and who created this stunning artistic record of the event. Yes, payback for David's prank at Mardi Gras was delightful fun and promised to bear further fruit.

David signed the check and asked, "What is the date today; I can't remember.

Sandy winked at Hector. "It's the first of April, honey." Under her breath Sandy muttered, "And April Fool, my dear."

DALLAS, EXACTLY ONE YEAR LATER

Sandy sat at the bar in the den sipping a Martini. She glanced at her watch. It was almost five o'clock now. David would be home in a minute. She had made a pitcher of Martinis for them to share. The guests would arrive for tonight's party at seven. Sandy had a long soak in the bath earlier and just needed to put on her new dress and makeup to be ready for the party. There would be plenty of time to enjoy a relaxing drink with her husband when he got home and still have ample time to get ready.

Sandy picked up the caterer's final program for the party tonight. There would be two bars manned by a bar tender and assistant, the one here in the den in front of the painting and a caterer-provided mobile bar on the patio by the pool. Heavy hors d'oeuvres would be in the dining room, and four waiters with canape trays would rotate through the guests until midnight. The weather was scheduled to be clear with a full moon but a little chilly. The caterer set up propane umbrella heaters on the patio yesterday. This would ensure the guests would be comfortable inside or out. The caterer would arrive at the house at six and already knew exactly what to do. The cleaning and lawn care services had been working for the last two days. The house and grounds were spotless inside and out. The party logistics were all set.

Next she reviewed the guest list. She had positive RSVPs from 44 couples, and one had called asking if they could bring a house guest. Of course, they could. That would provide a nice crowd of 85 guests. The crowd included David's boss and a number of David's professional colleagues as well as numerous friends from the neighborhood and country club. It would be a fun party-crowd. Sandy smiled happily, the night was going to be memorable.

Sandy gazed at the nude painting of her over the bar. It had been a bigger hit than she had ever dreamed. It generated no end of discussion and speculation about the woman and her lover. There had been a few pointed questions about Sandy's likeness to the nude that Sandy had deflected, more or less convincingly she thought. She had stock answers like: "Don't I wish, that girl is so much prettier than I am" or "I only wish I had red hair like that, she is ravishing."

As far as she knew, only her two closest friends, Gina and Beth, knew the truth about Sandy posing for the painting and sleeping with the artist. She wanted to confide her secret to someone, and those two both had lovers on the side as well as being her best friends. They were unlikely to leak the truth.

Both women were beautiful, young trophy wives married to much older, rich men. Gina cheated behind her husband's back regularly. Given the husband's travel schedule and love of golf, the lusty young Gina had little trouble finding time to maintain a well-exercised string of male studs.

Beth's situation was a little more complicated, and she was more discriminating in her affairs. Her husband didn't know or at least pretended not to know about her periodic hanky panky. However, he was almost eighty so it made sense for the old goat to realize that his energetic little beauty needed more sex than he could provide at his age. Beth was discrete and suspected her husband silently tolerated her indiscretions. She had been a petroleum engineer for her husband-to-be's oil company, caught the owner's eye five years ago, and soon replaced the original, older wife in the rich man's bed.

Then there was Paula who just recently found out the truth. That had been an accident. Paula and her husband moved to Dallas from Chicago about six weeks ago. Sandy, Gina, and Beth took Paula out to lunch at the country club to welcome the newcomer to town. In the conversation, Beth let slip that Sandy was the nude in the painting.

Paula had not seen the painting yet, so it transpired that the four comely, young women trooped over to Sandy's house after lunch. Sandy opened a bottle of White Burgundy and poured glasses of wine for the ladies as they all settled on the bar stools at the bar in front of the painting. Each woman had two glasses of wine with lunch so inhibitions were falling as the rosy glow of the wine enlivened the group.

As the women inspected the painting, Sandy recounted the story starting with the first December visit to Santa Fe, the Mardi Gras party - both Gina and Beth had seen David's trick and were a hundred percent on Sandy's side - the phone call to Hector, creating the painting, David being fooled into buying the painting of his adulterous wife from her lover, and the painting's public display.

Gina giggled, "Come on Sandy. That was the Reader's Digest version. Honey, we want to hear the unvarnished Defoe's Molly Flanders version."

Sandy smiled and opened another bottle of White Burgundy. She refilled everyone's glass. Sandy explained Hector's inside joke about the leaving her blond pubic hair its natural color in the painting. This required the girls to go behind the bar minutely examine the painting.

Gina burst out, "Oh my God Sandy, that's really you, no doubt about it."

Beth stepped back examining the painting carefully and whispered thoughtfully, "Yeah, but you have to know to look for it and then almost stick your nose on the painting to be sure. Oh, that naughty, naughty Hector."

Paula added as they resumed their seats at the bar, "Come on Sandy, more of the good stuff like that."

Laughing and giggling gayly, Sandy provided every lascivious detail of her adulterous affair with her artist lover. The tale was accompanied by gasps, hoots of laughter, and giggles from the other three young women.

Beth gasped out at the end of Sandy's colorful tale a wondering, "Wow. And except for the four of us, and Hector of course, nobody has a clue that it is Sandy we are all staring at and all the men are getting hard-ons over."

Paula asked incredulously, "Sandy, come on. You mean your husband is really clueless. He hasn't any suspicion its you up there or that you were screwing the artist? I mean, except for the hair color, that is clearly you up there."

Sandy laughed, "Nope. Clueless. He's a rich, powerful man who everyone kowtows to. I think he can't imagine that his wife would actually cheat on him with another man. He's too important for something like that to happen to him. It's that male ego thing, I suspect."

Sandy smirked cynically, "But, it gets even worse than that. Last summer we hosted the neighborhood Fourth-of-July pool party. I came back inside to get some more mustard from the pantry and saw David and about six guys in here at the bar drinking beer and eyeballing my nude picture. Of course, I stopped and eavesdropped to find out what they were saying about me."

Sandy shook her head with disdain, "That poor, clueless husband of mine! He was standing there telling his buddies, 'The painting is named 'My Neighbor's Wife.' My friend Hector, the artist you know, is nailing that sweet piece of hot married ass every time her husband goes out of town.' I had to pinch myself to keep from laughing out loud. Oh, I so wanted to step in and tell them that hot piece of married ass Hector was so enthusiastically nailing was David's own sweet little wife's ass, but I let the opportunity pass."

Paula exclaimed, "But Sandy, how do you hide the expenses - credit card charges, the plane tickets, the hotel, and all of that. It's a trail he can't miss."