It was a steamy, hot day in July. Not at all unexpected for this time of year, but still oppressively hot and humid, like a soaking wet, hot towel wrapped around your body. There was nothing to do but to hope for a breeze and keep drinking ice water to cool down. If you were lucky and there was still ice in your cup when you finished the water, you put that leftover ice on your neck and chest to try to cool yourself.
I’d felt restless at home that day, not wanting to leave the air-conditioned comfort of home, but needed to get out and away, wanting to do something “different”. I looked through the paper to see what was happening on such a hot, sticky day and found an art fair at the park. I hadn’t attended an art fair in years! My husband’s not into art so it was easy to get this time alone.
At the park, I walked along the trails surrounded by booths full of artwork. Hand blown glass, carvings from wood or stone, paintings with oil, watercolors and acrylics, even string art, which I’d done in my senior year to pass Geometry! Guess I should have saved that piece – might have been worth quite a sum!
As I walked slowly in the heat, I could smell all the different colognes everyone was wearing. Men in Polo, women in L’air du Temps. At times it was a very heady, erotic combination. But if you got too close to fragrances that clashed, it was a very painful experience! Didn’t people realize you really shouldn’t wear colognes on such a hot day? Not only does the heat continue to release the fragrance, it draws bees and mosquitoes! And the hairspray! And the make-up running from once beautiful, air-conditioned faces. Ladies! Use waterproof mascara please!
I was dressed in jeans and a pale yellow v-neck t-shirt and sneakers. I’d lost quite a bit of weight in the past year, so I was happy to show off the “new” me, still a curvy kind of girl, but not quite so round and curvy. My clothes weren’t overly revealing, just form fitting. I had on virtually no make up – just enough to put some color on my eyes, lashes and lips; my hair was pulled back in a pony tail as it’d grown out from the short-short cut I’d worn for many years. I really had no idea what my natural hair color was, but between me and my stylist, it was deep red with bold blond highlights. I usually wore it loose and fly away, but with this heat, I had to keep it off my neck. I was carrying a cup of ice water with me, not wanting to drink too fast, but really wanting to get to that ice so that I could use it to cool my hot skin. This was going to be one of those “two shower days” – I felt the sweat dripping down my neck onto my chest then between my breasts, my clothing not able to soak it all up.
Then I saw the painting. It was to the left at a booth with other paintings and this one intrigued me. The blues, the browns. Most people wouldn’t put blue and brown together but this was wonderful; the shading, the texture. I had to get a closer look so I went over to the booth, then I saw him and stopped in my tracks.
He was tall, probably 6’, lean but well built, dark hair and eyes and was talking with some of the others looking at the paintings. I assumed he was the artist and listened to what he was telling the other on-lookers about his work. Acrylic on a sand base applied to a wood panel. He likes to work in abstracts, although it didn’t look abstract to me, and paints in layers. I didn’t hear much more than that because I was too busy watching him move, watching how he held himself tall while talking to these people, watching his mouth move, watching the sweat bead on his face. I had this sudden urge to reach out, wipe the sweat off his brow then follow the trail of sweat from his neck, down his chest to who knows where. He looked over at me, smiled then turned back to finish the conversation with the potential buyers. I wondered how long I’d been staring at him, but that didn’t stop me from continuing – I just couldn’t take my eyes off of him.
He sold a painting to the people he was talking with and I was glad it wasn’t the one I’d been looking at. When they finished, he turned to me and asked if there was anything he could do for me. He had no idea what a loaded question that was! Oh, the things he could do for me – my mind reeled. In a matter of no more than two seconds, I ran through several scenarios of what he could do for me. The thoughts ranged from softly touching my face and kissing me deeply, to throwing me down on the ground and fucking me senseless.
I must have been further into my thoughts than I realized because he reached out and touched my arm, asking again if he could do anything for me. I rejoined reality and told him I liked the blue and brown painting. I liked the colors that were used, the texture it had and the simplicity of it all. I especially liked the two “U” shapes in the center; they reminded me of two lovers engulfed in one another. We chatted about the painting and how it was done, but the entire time I was only half listening, I was still too enthralled by him and his movements, the sultry look he may not have even realized he had.
I finally finished the water in my cup, absent mindedly reached in and grabbed a piece of ice, rubbed it on my neck, the water dripped down onto my chest, cooling me ever so slightly. I noticed the look on his face and explained that I was really hot. With a sly smile and laugh, he agreed. I had to laugh too as I realized what I’d said and how it’d been taken.
