The Lamp Ch. 05

"Est-ce que tu trompes ton mari?'' he asked, with his eyes twinkling.

Jenny switched to English. "I love Marc and would never cheat on him," she said, all the while remembering how she got into her present predicament.

"Even for a handsome French man who still loves you?" he asked.

"How many other women have you taken to bed in the last four years, Jean-Pierre?"

"Well, a few I suppose. I knew you were lost to me and what's a man to do? I'm not a monk, after all."

"Did you really fly here from Paris just to come to this event?"

"I've always loved Rodin, especially his sculpture of Balzac," Jean-Pierre replied. "I'm sure he threw away the mold after he sculpted your doppelgänger, mon amour."

Luckily another man entered at that moment and Jenny left Jean-Pierre's seductive presence to greet the new arrival. He looked familiar. He was around Jenny's age, but she was having trouble placing him. He shrugged one shoulder, a nervous tic that jogged her memory. She knew him from high school, lo those many years ago.

"Ezekiel? Is that you?" she asked. She smiled broadly at the friendly face.

Ezekiel smiled. Everyone else called him Zeke; only Jenny had ever called him Ezekiel. "I must apologize for what we did to you back in high school, Jenny."

"Thank you. It was a long time ago, but it's still a painful memory. Is that why you came today? To apologize?"

"Yes and to be honest, also to see you naked once again," Zeke replied, still smiling. "This time it will be up close and not from another building via a telephoto lens."

That comment burst Jenny's balloon, as Zeke's honesty destroyed the remaining vestige of this event being artistic, akin to her nude modeling in Professor Connors' class in college. While there was, to be sure, a crass element to the nude modeling in college it was primarily for art. This event in contrast seemed to a large degree to be aimed at horny men getting off on perving in front of a young, naked, sexy woman.

Luckily Martin Savage's old girlfriend Mary arrived next, to Jenny's surprise. Each woman noticed the other's engagement and wedding rings. Jenny spoke first. "I see you're married. Who's the lucky man?"

"Who do you think?"

"Really? You and Martin?" Mary smiled and nodded. "Well that's great! Now it's more likely Martin will behave when we're modeling Rodin's The Kiss later."

"It's not that kind of marriage, Jenny," Mary cryptically replied.

"What do you mean?"

Before Mary could reply Jenny's old freshman roommate and fellow seducer of Martin Savage, namely Kathy Tohoku, arrived and grabbed Jenny with a bearhug and a kiss on the lips.

"Whoa!" someone said, as the two women held their kiss a bit too long. Lois -- Jenny's close friend and now Goode's lover -- appeared with a silver tray of canapés and glasses of French champagne, and she loudly offered them to Kathy and Jenny, ending their long embrace and kiss. Jenny was grateful. It was wonderful to see Mary and Kathy again but Kathy's overly enthusiastic greeting flummoxed her.

Jenny was soon in a daze as even her old high school one-night stand and deflowerer, George Murdock, showed up (how did he even know about this event? She had never told Marc, Lois, or anyone about George!) Another one-night stand memory (this one from college), namely Haruki Watanabe, arrived on George's heels. Jenny did a quick calculation: George, Haruki, Martin Savage, Jean-Pierre, Johnny B. Goode, and her husband Marc were all there. Six men with whom she had sex were all in the room. She felt faint. Only Alex Goodfellow, Dylan, and François Borne (her one-night-stand in Paris before she hooked up with Jean-Pierre) were not there.

Should Jenny count Kathy Tohoku, too? Did a short episode of lesbian sex back in college really count?

Six of the nine men she had known carnally were right there, in the room where she was soon going to stand naked. The one woman who knew her carnally was also there. Suddenly Jenny felt an urgent need to pee. She excused herself and went to the toilets, taking another Xanax in the privacy of the bathroom. She pulled herself together, plastered her best smile on her face, and went back out to being a gracious hostess, circulating and exchanging banalities with all the men, often asking them about Skull and Bones and its secret rituals and traditions. They were fairly tight-lipped about it all, but enjoyed checking her out. A few of them (but only a very few) inquired about her husband Marc Claudet, who was off somewhere flirting with Kathy Tohoku.

Jenny left George and Haruki to talk to each other. She needed to circulate among the clients of the gallery, and when Lois next came around with more champagne, Jenny jumped at the chance. "I'm dying here, Lois. How am I going to stand naked in front of all these men, who are not doing a good job of hiding their desires to jump my bones?"

"Don't worry," Lois quickly replied. "Marc is here, and nobody will try anything in front of him. You're safe. Try to think about something else. Imagine some old fart US Senator on the toilet or something like that."

Jenny giggled. Lois was a good friend. Maybe she could trust her enough to share her concerns about her hubby? That would have to be for another time. Why did Marc tell Jean-Pierre about this event? Why did he invite him? How did George and Ezekiel learn about it? Who told Kathy Tohoku, and for that matter, who on God's green earth told Haruki, of all people? The memories of sex with all of these men, all with their own styles, all different and each and every one delightful, were flooding her brain. She was sure her pussy was getting moist. Damn it all!

Facebook. Of course! The event must be on Marc's Facebook page ... or maybe on Lois' Facebook page? If anyone checked her page, they could learn her husband was Marc and her best friend was Lois. If they had announced this event, or even linked to it, or ...

Lois returned to her. "It's time. Follow me," she said. Jenny dutifully followed her, feeling like a condemned prisoner being led off to the gallows. Was her lamp really worth all of this? Maybe it's not too late to back out and return the lamp? Maybe Mr. Goode will give me a blindfold and a last cigarette? Maybe he'll dribble maple syrup on my boobs? It might be Vermont maple syrup -- ay, there's the rub. This girl's boobs only accept pure Grade A New York Maple Syrup. I'll have to make that clear, she thought to herself, as she remembered the pancakes from yesterday's breakfast and the wonderful fuck Marc gave her as a reward.

Jenny emerged from the back room dressed in a neck-to-ankle white gown. The fabric was thin, and anyone who wanted to (which was basically everyone) could make out her nipples and a hint of her nude pussy underneath the gown. They were not surprised but mightily pleased to see her naked body when J. Byron Goode stepped behind her, released the clasp, and let the gown fall into a puddle on the floor. Jenny was standing next to Rodin's workshop's statue of Francine de Chamonix. Both Jenny and the statue were naked, and everyone could not help but notice that Jenny was an exact copy of the statue -- or was it that the statue was an exact copy of Jenny?

Jenny assumed the pose of the statue. She knew she was expected to hold the pose for twenty minutes. She stood perfectly still and tried to think of something banal, such as one of the country's octogenarian senators on the toilet. Let's see, she thought: Diane Feinstein, Mitch McConnell, Charles Grassley, Bernie Sanders. Should she count Jim Risch of Idaho? He was 79 but would be 80 soon. Ben Cardin was 79, too. Who else was there? She had twenty minutes to reflect on it while standing there naked. Dick Durbin and Angus King? These two were mere children at only 78.

She held her head steady looking off into the distance at nothing at all. Via her peripheral vision she began to notice some of the men staring at her. She saw lumps -- yes, palpable lumps -- in their slacks. She giggled silently. Suddenly there was a collective gasp. Lois was the cause. She had removed her bra and her blouse was sheer. She was holding a tray as she mingled through the crowd offering yet more champagne. The assorted men were giving Lois big smiles. As if it wasn't enough to enjoy looking at Jenny's totally naked body, they were getting off on Lois' gorgeous boobs. As Jenny reflected she actually felt grateful since Lois was diffusing a bit the intense attention that had been focused exclusively on her.

Somehow Haruki, George, Zeke, Martin, and Jean-Pierre all found each other and, ignoring Lois and her champagne and her boobs, they took up camp only a couple of feet from Jenny's naked body. They began to discuss, sotto voce, how much they each had enjoyed fucking Jenny, except for Zeke who had only watched her fuck Alex Goodfellow, back in high school. Probably nobody but Jenny could hear them, and even then she caught only snippets.

"She got wetter than any other woman I've ever known."

"I loved the way her cunt squeezed my cock when she came."

"For me, it was all about the filth that came out of her mouth when her climax was building."

"Did she ever make you pancakes the next day? She did? Were they specially shaped? They were? Of course they were. God, Jenny is something else. I'd give a fortune to have her one more time."

"Me too. Best piece of ass ever."

"Yeah. Best in the state."

"What about Cindy up in Plattsburgh on a cold winter's night?"

"You did Cindy? Cindy Durham?"

"Oh, yeah. She's the only girl I know who could compare to Jenny in bed."

"In bed? Oh, you mean in the bed of your Ford 150, am I right?"

"Hey, it's an electric Ford 150. I'm a modern guy."

"You may be modern, but Cindy is a classic fuck."

The men all began to chuckle.

Jenny couldn't believe how crude the men were. Had she really once fucked these assholes?

"What's so funny, guys?" Lois said. As one man they all turned to look at Lois' boobs. As the group followed Lois, moving away, Jenny exhaled. She was grateful to be rid of their crude remarks. She knew some men are like that and enjoy being crude about their "conquests," but somehow it's different when she herself is the conquest they're discussing, and moreover discussing it right in front of her naked body. They had to have known she heard them. They also knew she was (temporarily) a living, breathing statue and could do nothing about it. What a bunch of pricks!

Twenty minutes finally came. It was none too early. Jenny's muscles were seizing. She stepped down from her small pedestal and J. Byron Goode gave her a hug and congratulated her. His hands went to her naked ass as they hugged. Jenny mentally shrugged. She went to the back and returned with a tray holding flutes of champagne. The flutes were in front of her bare breasts. She circulated, going to her husband Marc first. He was speaking with Lois, who was now topless.

"Champagne?" Jenny offered.

"Is it French?" Marc teased.

"No, it's from Indiana," Jenny teased back.

"Seriously?"

"It's Veuve Clicquot. I poured it myself," she said.

Marc pinched Jenny's ass and brushed the back of his other hand along her slit. Jenny couldn't believe it. They were in public and the center of attention. At least it was her husband molesting her. She tried to take comfort in that.

"Behave yourself or I'll next be pouring Veuve Claudet," Jenny said, tempering it with a smile.

Jenny was in a bad mood after having listened to the trash-talking by her former lovers. She cornered Martin Savage and gave him the third degree.

"It was all Haruki and George, with Jean-Pierre occasionally chiming in. You probably recognized his accent. I was silent. I don't even know who Cindy Durham is, or if she even exists," Martin said.

"There was a Cindy Durham in my high school," Jenny said. "She moved to Plattsburgh after graduation. Something about a sick relative. Was it George who brought her up?"

"Yes. He's a piece of work, that George guy. You really dated him?"

"He was my first. In a hayride. It was a one-night-stand. I'm amazed he's here, after all these years. You could have defended me, you know. I don't deserve to be discussed that way."

"I know. I'm sorry. You're standing there, as still as stone, naked, but breathing and smelling of arousal, so I ..."

"I smell of arousal?" Jenny was clearly horrified.

"Well, yeah. I'm sorry babe, but you do. Your slit glistens with moisture, too. I can't say as I blame you, since you're naked in a room full of men and ..."

"Please stop, Martin. You're making it worse. I have to go." Jenny returned to Marc, who was just finishing off his sketch of her naked body from when, a half-hour earlier, she was standing nude next to the statue of Francine de Chamonix.

"Sketching me again?" Jenny asked.

"You're naked. Naked is a good look for you."

"Even in a room full of clothed men?"

"Especially. You have no idea."

"Yes, you got that right. Look, I don't know if you've noticed, but some of the men keep feeling up my behind. I whip around but they blend into the crowd, so I don't know who's doing it. It's disrespectful."

"What do you expect? You're naked, flaunting a perfect, sexy body, in a room full of men."

"I expect a higher level of decorum. This is a fancy gallery, not a honkytonk bar. I'm your wife. It's disrespectful to you as well, Marc."

"Yes, I suppose it is."

Jenny looked at the crotch of Marc's pants.

"You're hard. Is this turning you on?"

"Every man here is turned on. Between you and Lois we're all going nuts."

"I like that you're hard. Viagra?"

"No, just you in this situation."

"Can I see your sketches?"

"Later. Not till I'm done. I've been having fun trying to capture the moisture on your pussy. You're nice and wet, you know. I'd love to fuck you now."

"There's a back room. Everyone would know, though. However you are my husband. Shall we go?"

"No, I'm enjoying the anticipation."

"Marc, I'm scared."

"Scared about sitting on Martin's lap?"

"Yes. I've told you that was his favorite position when we dated back in college. He'll probably try something in front of you and Mary, God, and Yale."

"Yale?"

"All of your Skull and Bones friends, most of whom are drooling, or so it seems to me."

Marc chuckled. "Relax, darling. He won't even be able to get hard while naked in front of a room full of men staring at him."

"I've thought of that. I hope you're right."

"Am I ever wrong?"

Jenny didn't answer. Instead she whipped around to slap the man who had just goosed her ass, but there were so many men she couldn't tell which one he was. With near-perfect timing Lois came over to her.

"It's time," Lois said. Lois took Jenny's hand and led her to the back room, past a curtained-off corner of the gallery. Both Lois and Jenny knew -- Jenny because Lois had told her -- that the secret corner of the gallery contains a life-sized holograph of Rodin's statue, The Kiss. Next to it was an artificial rock shaped similarly to the rock the lovers sit on in The Kiss.

Jenny was now in full panic mode. The nude modeling in college had helped her to become less body shy, but she was nervous as to what might happen sitting naked on Martin Savage's equally naked lap, while kissing him no less! Lois gave her a paper bag to breathe in, helping to stop her panic attack. She heard Mr. Goode's dulcet tones introducing the event.

"Part II of our gallery's installation piece is about to begin. Behind this curtain we have a hologram of Rodin's The Kiss. The original title, in French, is Le Baiser. Part of the charm of the French language is that while le baiser means a kiss, the word baiser itself is a verb meaning to copulate, or to be crude, to fuck. Mrs. Jenny Claudet and Mr. Martin Savage will be performing The Kiss.

"Now as you most likely know, the work was intended to be on the group of reliefs decorating Rodin's monumental bronze portal The Gates of Hell," Mr. Goode continued. "It portrays Francesca de Rimini, who fell in love with her husband's brother Paolo. The two lovers were discovered by Francesca's husband, who stabbed them to death. Francesca and Paolo were condemned to Dante's Second Circle of Hell, the one where those consumed with lust dwell. Luckily for us, Mr. Claudet and Mrs. Savage, Martin's wife Mary, are both present tonight and have been thoroughly checked for weapons."

There was general laughter. The curtain was raised to reveal the hologram and next to it the living embodiment of Francesca and Paolo in the form of Jenny and Martin. Both were naked, and Jenny was sitting in Martin's lap. She was facing him and their faces were close together. Lois rang an antique bell from Chester, England, and the couple began to kiss.

Minutes before the kissing began Jenny was lost in thought. She was now 25. Martin was her boyfriend extraordinaire her freshman year. He graduated and moved to New York City for her sophomore year. That sophomore year somehow -- even with Dylan being Jenny's new boyfriend -- Martin was able to seduce her whenever he took the train up to Poughkeepsie from New York, which was often. He seemed to have a magical pull over her. She had tried to resist him (Dylan would not have approved, to put it mildly) but she had simply been unable to do so.

That however was six and seven years ago. A lot had happened in the intervening time, the most significant of which was falling head over heels in love with Marc. Even at the beginning, though, and well before they were married, she had continued her pre-existing affairs with both Dylan and Jean-Pierre. Those two had ended long ago, and since then Marc had been her whole world, her entire universe, and there was no need for anyone else. Only this stupid lamp was ruining things. The lamp however had a pull over her even more powerful than any pull Martin had ever had. Now it was only another twenty minutes or so and her tribulations would be over.

She decided she might as well enjoy herself. She had always loved kissing Martin. She had done a quick survey of the room in a millisecond. All of the many chairs were occupied, and she saw Martin's pretty and sexy wife Mary sitting next to her beloved Marc. Marc again had his sketch pad on his lap. Mary had always intimidated her since in addition to her beauty she was kind, generous, and smart as hell. Mary had it all, including Martin. Jenny however had Marc. Irrationally, she thought to herself, she felt threatened. Then Martin kissed her and all her nervous thoughts disappeared.

Jenny looked into the liquid blue pools of Martin's eyes and she melted. Martin leaned forward for their kiss -- which after all was what the two lovers in the hologram next to them were doing -- and Jenny bent forward to receive Martin's lips. Were they really going to kiss for twenty minutes? Does anyone, while naked, simply kiss for twenty minutes? Would Francesca and Paolo from the 13th century kiss naked for twenty minutes, or might they have progressed to -- shall we say -- other activities?

Jenny's thoughts were cut short as her lips met Martin's and she was -- once again -- captured by the beauty of Martin's glowing blue eyes. To save her soul Jenny closed her eyes. She felt Martin's hand on her thigh, near her ass, and she tried and failed to stifle a small moan. She opened her lips and quick as a bunny she felt Martin's tongue enter her mouth as it had done so many times seven and six years before.

Body memory took over. Jenny knew in advance all the moves of Martin's hands, and she eagerly awaited their moves across her bare skin. Her entire body felt alive for all the time they were kissing. Martin's hands moved up and down her back, displaying a tenderness that Jenny felt was unique to Martin. His right hand slipped over to her breast, and Jenny realized that their kissing was leaving the PG realm. He feather-touched her nipples, and the spectators could watch in real time as her nipples became erect and hardened. Still they kissed.