The Sculptor & His Sis

The news reported that Bertolucci passed away in Rome today. Tonight, they relive and celebrate the genius, and his genius.

Matt, Muriel and Zack are watching the film in the living room. They are buoyed by good wine.

***

The Dreamers. 2003.

A film made by a cinephile, Signore Bertolucci, no less, about cinephiles, acted by cinephiles, for cinephiles.

Max is an American student who has come to Paris for cultural immersion. At the Cinémathèque Française, the high temple of French cinema, Max meets the free-spirited siblings, Théo and Isabelle. The three cinephiles bond.

The siblings offer Max the chance to stay with them while their parents are on a trip. Max accepts. His first French friends. His first meaningful French immersion opportunity.

Max is curious about the sibling relationship after inadvertently seeing them sleep nude together one night when he is passing Théo's room on the way to the washroom down the passage.

The siblings accept nudity and intimacy matter-of-factly. But, Max does not witness any outright sex.

Are they doing the deed or not? Max wonders.

The trio love to play movie trivia games, ending in forfeit. After Max loses one such game, he is forced to have sex with Isabelle. Théo watches wordlessly, nonchalantly without emotion.

Max sees blood stains. Isabelle gets emotional. Théo broods deeper.

Max realises he has just relieved Isabelle of her virginity. Max is surprised that despite their outward ease of nudity and unseemly sibling intimacy, they have never done the ultimate deed.

Max and Isabelle become lovers.

Max cannot make out Théo's reaction. He is his usual brooding self, only now, plumbing deeper. He doesn't show any sign of jealousy, or displeasure with Max. And yet, it is counterintuitive that he feels nothing.

Max begins to accept the siblings' casual nudity and intimacy. His time living with them becomes idyllic. They invent and play games in the cinematic realm, such as acting out classic dramatic film scene sequences.

Max attempts to take Isabelle on dates, which she has never experienced before. It is still unclear what is playing out in Théo's brotherly head.

One night, Max and Isabelle go out on a date, as does Théo. Max and Isabelle return to the apartment. They realise that Théo has brought his date home. Max and Isabelle can hear Théo and his date in the adjoining room. Isabelle is devastated.

One night, while the trio are languidly sleeping naked in a tangled heap, in the living room after some wine revelry, the siblings' parents come home to leave a cheque for their grocery expenses. They are startled and perturbed by what they see. The trio continues to sleep blissfully. After the parents leave, Isabelle wakes up. She discovers the cheque. She realises that her parents have caught them out.

Wordlessly, she attaches a hose to the gas outlet and lies back down with still slumbering Théo and Matt, attempting to commit suicide.

They are awakened by a student protest riot in the streets. This is the tumultuous May 1968 French student protests which brought down the government of the day.

The trio joins the protesters, buoyed by the euphoria. Théo relishes the heady tumult. Pacifist Max is conflicted.

The film ends.

***

The patio door is open. It is getting a tad chilly.

Matt asks Muriel if she feels chilly.

Muriel replies that it is indeed a wee draughty, but it is still OK. Curiously, Muriel scoots over to her brother.

Zack observes that Muriel sits in front of Matt, pausing momentarily, as if giving him notice of her next move. She then lazes in front of him like he is a lounge chair, and then makes some fine bodily adjustments. Brother and sister mold into a unified whole. Matt wraps his arms around Muriel's waist as if he is buckling her down in a seatbelt. Matt tightens his arms momentarily, and then relaxes them as if she is now secured.

Muriel coos: "Thanks Matt, lovely..."

Matt places his right hand on the nightie fabric over his sister's mound. Matt's finger doodles cryptic messages on her mound. Zack thinks he hears muffled mewing noises.

***

Zack muses...

Théo-Matt.

Isabelle-Muriel.

Max-Zack.

Maybe Life follows Art... even as Art follows Life.

The Dreamers.

A film made by cinephiles, about cinephiles, acted by cinephiles, for cinephiles, watched by cinephiles acting out the cinephiles in the film...

The charm of coming full circle, even if it is not the circle you started out with.

***

Chapter 8: Draw

Muriel is a pretty shade of red as she sits with her legs kittenishly crossed on the posing lounge in her robe. She is naked underneath. She is nervous all over again even though they have covered much ground in the earlier photography session. She wonders why is that?

Matt assesses Muriel's mental state. He is worried that she may back out. Matt is half-minded as to whether to ask Zack to give Muriel the modesty breathing space by leaving the studio. If not the whole session, at least in the beginning. Unlike the photoshoot, there is no need for any special lighting management in figure drawing. But, Matt feels bad about using his chum when required, and casting him away when his services are not so essential. That will be crassly utilitarian.

Then, Matt thinks about the effect that Zack has on Muriel so far. Simmering below the outward modesty demonstration, Zack's presence teases out something in Muriel that layers interesting nuances to the modeling, a kind of sublime unstated sizzle, that Matt can identify but cannot quite define precisely. An uneasy biochemical tension of modesty, exhibitionism and voyeurism. A frisson-laden interplay of sister, brother and outsider. Matt decides to let Zack stay. He will monitor Muriel's body language closely to verify that she is cool.

Matt invites Muriel to get started. Again, in a socially conditioned display of modesty, Muriel turns away from Matt and Zack. Zack turns away too in civil reciprocity as a denizen of polite society. Matt busies himself with his drawing implements. He operates above these pedantic social mores.

Muriel peels off her robe. She instinctively holds her right arm across her breasts. She places her minimized hand between her legs. She hunches over. This is somewhat incongruent considering that she had been in her native glory during the earlier photoshoot. The persistence of socially conditioned modesty.

"I am ready."

Matt and Zack look at her. Perversely, Muriel appears more alluring in her nominal modesty than if she is fully revealed. Less is more. A kind of the Marginal Utility of Sensuality. Minds move in mysterious ways.

Matt manages an economical "Lovely!"

This time, Zack feels obliged to earn his privilege to be present.

"You look absolutely beautiful, Muriel. Divine! Simply divine!"

"Thank you, boys." Muriel beams, glad that they are happy with her appearance. She feels validated by their words, and more so, by their evident show of pointed attention.

"Where do you like me to strut my charms?" Muriel enquires, now emboldened by Matt's and Zack's genuine attention and interest.

Muriel is still holding her arm across her breasts, and hand in front of her crotch, trying to sustain her modesty a little longer.

Matt sets down his drawing equipment. He goes over to Muriel to give his surprised sister a full body hug. Zack is equally surprised to see Matt hug his naked sister. Her pliant breasts mash against his chest. His crotch presses against her mound. This spontaneity somehow relieves Muriel of her modesty burden. She no longer obscures her parts. Matt knows women. Even if that woman is his sister.

Matt requests Zack to draw open the curtains to bring in the light. He can do this himself. But, he thinks it is wiser that Zack be seen to be contributing to the project effort, lest Muriel forms the impression that modeling is a spectator sport.

Matt sets up his easel to make optimal use of the flood of natural light.

"Sit on the lounger until I am ready to start drawing. We will do three standing poses. Then, two longer sitting ones. Five in all. That shouldn't be too strenuous."

Muriel sits down, trying to cover her body as much as possible. Matt can see that her old nervousness is creeping back to reclaim her. He needs to calm her down, so that he can encourage her to assume the erotic poses he has planned in the session today.

Matt can understand Muriel's unease even though they had made great headway in the photoshoot session. With photography, the poses are shortlived, if not instant. In figure drawing, the subject has to hold the pose. This is particularly awkward and stressful when the particular pose is revealingly erotic.

"OK, Muriel, are you good to go?"

"Yes, I guess we should start." Muriel replies with embarrassment, instinctively still covering her intimate parts.

***

Pose number one.

"Stand up. Face me. Hands at your sides. This will be a five minute rudimentary warm-up pose."

Muriel stands up. She is very stiff. Zack senses this. He tries to help. He engages Muriel in a trivial conversation. Muriel is becoming more relaxed, as she talks to Zack about the novels she read recently and her critique.

***

Pose number two.

"Turn to the side. Again, hands at your side. Eight minute pose."

Zack continues his rambling banter with Muriel. It helps.

***

Pose number three.

"Zack, can you help fetch the step stool from the corner of the studio?"

Zack places the 1-foot high stool on the floor. Matt sets it at an angle to his easel.

"Muriel, the last short pose of this initial series. Ten minutes. Place your left foot on the stool. Hold onto your sides for balance."

Muriel can feel the cool air on her moistening lady lips. She is getting aroused knowing that Matt and Zack can see her most intimate.

"Zack, can you help shift the stool a little, until I say OK. Muriel, hold your pose."

Zack kneels before Muriel. His face is inches away from Muriel's mound. He smells her arousal. He twitches. He makes micro adjustments to the stool placement. Matt grunts OK. Zack steps away, but not before ogling Muriel in her prime one last time. As he looks up, his eyes meet Muriel's. A fleeting bonding of sorts, although Zack doesn't know of what.

Matt is encouraged that Muriel is becoming increasingly aroused. The next set of poses will be much more revealing.

Zack too can see Muriel becoming more and more aroused. Her nipples are elongating. Her areolas, more pronounced. Drawn closer to Muriel, Zack can smell her piquant excitement. A sharp but pleasant vinegarish scent.

Matt, who is positioned closer to Muriel by privilege of being the artist, looks closely at her lovely feminine labia. Are those droplets of arousal?

Muriel's eyes are sparkling. Another telling sign that she is aroused.

Matt draws.

***

Time out for tea.

Zack brews the tea. Curiously, despite her earlier modesty inclinations, Muriel elects not to put on her robe. She beetles into the kitchen to bring the snacks to the living room. The trio enjoy their English civilization luxury of cucumber sandwiches and tea. She is becoming comfortable in her nudity, particularly when she doesn't have to stay static.

Matt encourages, "You are doing a great job, Muriel. It is difficult to shake off the values instilled on us about nudity in our culture. You are doing famously."

Turning red Muriel replies sheepishly. "It's not all work. I do enjoy myself in an incidental way. I think you should get a towel to lay down on the sofa for me to sit on. I am getting a little juicy. I don't want to mess up your leather. Leather soaks up moisture."

Zack is flabbergasted by this intimate revelation. Maybe Muriel has really turned the corner.

Zack volunteers, "Let me get it."

Matt and Zack can see that Muriel is relaxing. She is sitting back on the sofa with one leg resting flat on the sofa seat, and the other on the floor, exposing her womanhood to her brother and Zack as they banter.

***

Pose number four.

After twenty minutes, Muriel asks coyly. "Do you still want me to model? Or, do you guys just want to sit here and contemplate my being?" Muriel surprises herself that she is so forward. She blushes.

Zack is emboldened by Muriel's flippancy. He opines euphemistically. "Womanhood is intriguing. It is a mysterious realm. One can never quite demystify it enough."

"How do you want your model rendered now, Mr. Peter Paul Rubens?" Muriel enquires, alluding to the Rubenesque, without moving from her exposed position.

"You appear comfortable with your current casual pose. This is a good starting point for our second series of longer poses drawing. Let me make some minor adjustments. Then, you can lock down your pose."

Muriel and Zack expect Matt to make some adjustments to his easel, to align his perspective to Muriel's pose. Instead, Matt steps over to Muriel. He slides Muriel back into the corner of the sofa. He places his hands on her thighs. He parts them wide. Muriel is mortified. Matt studies her vagina for a moment. He rubs her labia majora as if to liven and freshen it. He runs his finger from the top to the bottom of her slit as if to preen it to open up just the right crack. Finally, he closes her thighs a little. Sensual, bordering on erotic, but most definitely not lewd.

"This pose will be for thirty minutes. Rest break at halftime."

Matt draws. At halftime, Muriel gets up and stretches. She assumes the pose again. Matt completes the drawing.

As Muriel gets up from her pose to stretch herself, Zack moves to the sofa. He stuffs the moist towel into his pocket. As he looks up guiltily, his eyes meet Muriel's. A knowing smile.

***

Pose number five.

"Zack, can you help get the posing chair."

"Last pose of the day. Thirty minutes."

"Muriel, sit on the chair. Slide forward a little on the chair. Rest your right leg on the floor. Hang your left leg over the arm of the chair."

Muriel settles down to the pose. Matt orbits her, checking out her pose, adjusting this and that. He appears dissatisfied.

"Muriel, do you mind if I adjust you in a personal area to get the best visual effect."

Muriel nods meekly.

Matt crouches before his sister. She smells of feminine arousal. She is wet. Matt adjusts her folds causing her liquid arousal to flow.

Awestruck Zack draws near Muriel and Matt as if in anticipation of Matt crying for help, in what is a delicate operation.

With Muriel preened and primed, Matt draws.

The session draws to an end.

***

After supper, Matt announces that he wants some alone time in his studio to revisit and refine his drawings against the images from the photoshoot, particularly the close-ups.

Zack and Muriel go down to the cove. It is dusk. They enter a twilight zone.

***

Zack tends a bonfire of driftwood, meticulously assembled into a pyramid-like form. It is getting chilly.

Muriel watches the dance of flames intently. She wonders, "Tell me, when you see the shapes that the bonfire makes, do you feel kinda strange?"

"How so?"

"I don't know, Zack. It is like all of a sudden, I get very clear about things. Watching the fire now, I get this deep, quiet kind of feeling."

"You know, a fire can be any shape it wants to be. It is free. So, it can look like anything at all depending on what is inside you. If you get this deep, quiet kind of feeling when you look at a fire, that is because it is showing you the deep, quiet kind of feeling you have inside yourself. You know what I mean?"

"I guess so..."

"But, it doesn't happen with just any fire. It won't happen with a gas stove, or a cigarette lighter fire. It won't even happen with an ordinary bonfire. For a fire to be free, you've to make it in the right kind of place. Which isn't easy."

"But, you can do it?"

"Sometimes I can, sometimes I can't. Most of the time, I can. If I really put my mind to it. Freedom is a bonfire. Try toasting marshmallows on a gas stove. And then on a bonfire. There is something going on. In you."

"And this bonfire, Zack?"

"There are degrees of fire. Gas stove fire. Placid beauty in symmetry. Order and discipline. This fire is functional, purposeful, useful. Boils your water. Cooks your food. Predictably well-behaved too. Best of all, you get to control it. Cut the fuel, and you conveniently snuff it out."

Zack pauses.

"At the other end of the firelight latitude, there are houses on fire, forest fires. Wild, combustive, raging, ranging firestorms. Poetry gone rogue."

Zack tosses a twig into the bonfire. It crackles.

"And then, there is the bonfire at the campsite, or by the beach. You are moved by kindling captivation in watching its dancing flames. It warms you even on a balmy night. That you do not experience from a gas stove fire. And when you douse the bonfire at the first light of dawn, its embers have a lingering stubborn persistence that defy the new light of day."

***

Chapter 9: Dream Come True?

Humans are made for the light of a cave. And thus, for twilight. Twilight is the time we sense best. When light is dim, and the pupil opens. Feeling comes out of the eye like touch. Then you really can feel colour, and experience it.

4am.

Summer twilight.

She ascertains him for a time. She slowly comes toward him, holding herself erect as always. She is barefoot. The floorboards faintly creak as she walks.

Silently she sits down on the edge of the bed. She remains still for a time. She has on a flowing white silk dress that reaches to her knees. She reaches out and touches his head. Her fingers groping through his hair.

She stands up again. In the faint light shining through the bay window from the outside, she begins to undress, like it is the most natural thing to do. She is in no hurry. But, she doesn't hesitate either. In a smooth natural motion, she lifts off her dress. It falls to the floor. The soft fabric making no sound.

She has a dreamlike look. Her eyes are open. But it is like she is sleepwalking.

Naked, she crawls into the narrow bed. She wraps her pale arms around him. Her warm breath grazes his neck. Her pubic area pushing up, pressing against his thigh. Electric.

She takes off his t-shirt. Pulls off his boxers. She kisses his neck over and over. Then, reaches out to hold his penis, which is already cast in bone china. Gently, she wraps her hands around his sac. She wordlessly guides his fingers to her most intimate. Warm and wet. She kisses his chest. His fingers are slowly sucked inside her.

Is this dream or reality?

He struggles to place himself. To find where he really is. He is trying to find the direction of the flow. Struggling to hold on to the axis of time. But, he cannot locate the line separating dream and reality. Or, even the boundary between what is real and what is possible.

He faces up. She gets on top of him. She guides his hard manhood inside her. He is quite helpless. She is the one in charge. She bends and twists her waist as if tracing a picture with her body. Her straight hair falls on his shoulders and billows noiselessly, like the branches of a willow. Little by little, he is sucked down to the warm mud. The whole world turns warm, wet, indistinct. All that exists is his rigid glistening penis. He is the extension of his penis.

He closes his eyes. His own dream begins. Is it even possible to dream a dream in a dream? It is hard to tell how much time is passing. The tide comes in. The moon rises. Everything arrives that single moment. And so, he comes.

There is nothing he can do to prolong it a little longer, to stop it. He comes over and over inside her. The warm walls inside her contract, gathering in his semen.

A long time passes. He cannot move. Every part of him is paralysed. Paralysed, or else he does not feel like trying to move.