“You are not going out in that?” Jody asked, condescendingly “It’s the opening night, I need you looking your best” she continued “Just – just don’t let me down. This is important, gosh!”
“I’m not wearing that fucking turtle-neck top – I’ll put on a suit, but I’m not wearing that turtle-neck, or a fucking tie”
“Fine. Just change out of those ridiculous jeans. You look like a tradesman”
“I am a fucking tradie. And every weekend you drag me to these fucking art exhibitions filled with wankers who verbally masturbate over the most talentless art. My first year apprentice has more art talent then half of those wankers. In five years, have you even gone to the game with me once? No – not even once!” I stormed back to the bedroom to put on something ‘more appropriate”. Fuck, I was sick of these art things. At least tonights was in the big city gallery and there would be free booze. At least I could get shitfaced.
The taxi ride in to town was an angry silence.
“So what is this exhibition about?” I asked, trying to show interest
“Oh it is this fabulous photographer – Jean-Luc is the name I think, from Quebec. The a new exhibition – is opening night tonight. I have heard Jean-Luc often daring, exploring the human condition. Imagine what fucking someone like that would be – a mixture of body, mind and spirit! ” Jody’s excitement quickly became white noise as she practically orgasmed over the creative Jean-Luc.
Arriving at the gallery, Jody grabbed my arm.
“Todd, please, behave” she tried her cutesy look on me
“If I don’t, I pay for it for a week later”
Cutesy was quickly replaced by anger “Just fucking behave, ok!” Jody snapped.
I’ll have to admit, the City Gallery was a pretty sweet building. Some of the stuff was kind of interesting. Plus, an open bar, and the waitresses were usually hot. Stepping out of the cab, Jody’s persona suddenly changed from evil, condescending bitch to sweet, air-kissing, darling talking art enthusiast. The turn around never ceased to amaze me.
Feigning togetherness, Jody took my arm as we ascended the grand steps of the gallery. Producing the invite, two tuxedoed burly guards welcomed us in. The grand marble-and-stone foyer was filled with the cities art wankery at its finest. Sipping champagne, eating disgusting canapés, laughing, admiring Jean-Luc’s obscure photographs. Jody made a bee-line to her usual art crowd, I made a bee-line to the bar.
Busy waiters poured endless flutes of champagne. The art wankers got increasingly loud. Speeches were given intermittently. Across the bar, I noticed her. I took another sip of my beer and rubbed my eyes – a hot, non lesbian looking woman in the art gallery on an opening night? Doing a double take – yes! Dressed in a figure hugging black dress, her uber-long, shiny dark hair fell perfectly over her shoulders. A hint of black eye-liner widened her already stunning eyes, rouge on her cheeks animated her cheeky grin. Twirling a toothpicked olive in her martini, I tried to forbid myself from staring. If Jody spotted me spotting the beautiful lady – let’s just say there would have been blood! Staring down into my rapidly emptying glass, conventional wisdom kicked in and it was time to explore the gallery. Resting my glass back on the ceramic coaster, I looked up to catch one more glance of the beauty – but she had gone! Doing a quick 360, she was not to be seen. I texted Jody “Going to check out a few of the exhibitions, SMS when you want to go”
Feeling a little tipsy and happy about my earlier eye-fuck, I seemed to glide through the galleries. Away from the crowd, a secluded theatrette beamed out a history of avant-garde in Paris. The long bench seats looked comfy and I was tired, so it seemed a perfect place to escape from the usual hum of the gallery.
Not five minutes had passed when I felt a presence… the silhouette of a woman started to glide towards me. Re-focusing – fuck – it was her! The girl from the bar! Sitting up straight on the bench-like seat, I was surprised that first she was here, and second she felt comfortable sitting next to me!
Sitting in absolute silence for perhaps a minute, electricity came over me as I felt her hand on my leg. Nothing spoken. Nothing said. Just her warm hand on my leg. Turning in to her, like magic, my hand quickly made its way to her porcelain-perfect face. Our lips met, she kissed like I have not been kissed in many moons. My god it was good. She smelled of sweet perfume, I felt the rhythmic rise and fall of her breasts on my forearm as she breathed
“Pull me close” she whispered in my ear
Wrapping my arm around her I found myself drawing her up so we stood next to each other. In the darkness of the theatrette, I wrapped my arms around her body. She kissed me harder, passionately, lustfully, erotically. Her hands ran over my face, over my shoulders. I pushed her against the carpeted wall of the room. She untucked my shirt, running her hands over my skin – up to my nipples. Over my chest. Down my tummy. Across my belt. Down the front of my legs. She bowed into me, gyrating over my hard cock, pressing in. She grabbed my hands and guided them over her black dress, making sure my hands squeezed her breasts hard. Fuck, they felt so good. I kissed down her cleavage, aching to bite her nipples, only to be thwarted by her bra. I squeezed her breasts, she gasped in absolute pleasure, begging for more. I pushed her harder into the wall, pulling up her dress, running my hands up her silky-smooth legs. I felt her unzip my pants and draw out my throbbing cock. The only thing separating us was the lace from her thong. I slipped my fingers down the front of her thong, feeling her well-manicured pussy, wet, hot, pushing on me. Her head fell into my chest as I played with her, my shirt muffling her sounds of sheer ecstasy as my fingers circled her moisten flesh.
She pulled me towards her, into her, my cock easily slid into her. “Fuck me hard” she whispered in my ear “Hard” she repeated. I needed no encouragement, thrusting into her, fuck, holding her waist close to mine, pulling her in, feeling her hands around my ass. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She wrapped her arms around my neck and pushed up. Whispering ‘yes yes yes yes yes’, I found myself shuddering with her, an incredible release waving across my body.
Sitting back on the bench seats, in the dark, she again turned to me. Giving me one last kiss, she simply whispered ‘thank you’ and walked off.
The projector finished rattling off its history of avant-garde. My phone vibrated. “Jean-Luc is giving his final speech – can u join me?” Jody texted. Gaining my bearings, I found my way back to the main gallery, just in time to catch the start of the speech. Looking up at the podium I focused on Jean-Luc. Focusing again, I was expecting a man. The MC introduced the famed photographer to the stage “Jean Lucy Bordain, otherwise known as Jean-Luc, let’s make her feel very welcome!” Gracing the stage, a glimmer of excitement returned to my eye. I just fucked Jean-Luc, and I’m sure it was better then Jody could of ever imagined.