Since that time Royce and I had become pretty good friends one of the few each one of us had. We would call each other if one of us was having a rough time. So there was always the chance he had just called because he was struggling. This time though it was not the case. Royce had called to tell me that Albert Walsh, an eccentric millionaire that was heavily into the occult had sent a spotter to my showing yesterday.
As I listened with my heart beating fast in my chest Royce proceeded to tell me that Walsh had called him a half hour ago and wanted to meet me. More than that, he wanted to commision me to paint a series of “visions” he claimed to have had while meditating. Walsh, who was a bit of an artist himself had drawn sketches of these and wanted them painted. According to Royce, Walsh had said he wanted them and he was quoting “Brought to nightmarish reality, and only the Decosta touch could do them justice”.
I had been a little put off at that point. I do originals not interpretations. Royce then explained that Walsh was talking well over six figures and was ready to put down half up front if they could be completed by the end of the year. Royce had continued to talk for awhile but I wasn’t really listening. Over one hundred thousand dollars! For my work! The only drawback was Walsh was leaving for Europe Saturday and wanted to meet Friday morning. I had planned on staying until next Sunday, but would obviously have to leave on Thursday.
I felt bad, having looked forward to an entire week with Mark as well as some time with the folks, but Albert Walsh! Mark would be disappointed, since I had moved to Chicago we only saw each other every few months or so. Fact was Mark hadn’t been happy with me moving down there in the first place, but he understood why. I could have never gotten a new start here with so many painful memories around me. I needed a clean slate and after a few months of abstinence had found out that my best friend from college Betty, who had also been my first true “girlfriend” was moving down to Chicago and went down there with her. We stayed with her cousin for awhile which was when I had met Royce and made my first few sales enabling me to support myself for the first time in my life. Except for missing Mark and my parents I have never questioned it was the right move.
I hung up with Royce and resisted the urge to jump up and down like a little girl. I had been doing well the last couple of years making close to the six figure mark last year, but this was huge! Walsh was constantly surrounded by a group of rich poser’s, the type that if he bought one of my paintings and loved it then of course they would have to have one as well. At that point I could name my price; this could literally set me up for years to come! If there had been any lingering effects of the melancholy that had brought me up here in the first place they were certainly gone now. For the first time in my life I felt like my brother, felt that I had taken control of my destiny and taken what I wanted.
Speaking of my little brother; there was some hot celebratory sex to be had! Between the good news and the ride I planned on taking him on he would get over me leaving sooner than I was supposed to. Then I would find out what was on his mind. As complicated as Mark put himself out to be he was in the end a typical man; fuck his brains out and he would tell me anything. Before I got up to go claim my hot little brother I glanced down at the phone and saw I had two voicemails. I had thought I only heard Royce leave one. I dialed in and out the phone to my ear to listen. The first one was Royce and I laughed as I listened to it;
“Hey sweetie it’s Royce when you get off your knees, get on the phone and give me a call.”
The second message however took the smile off my face.
“Hey Megan its Laura,” She paused for a moment I could already hear she was emotional.
“I… um just wanted to let you know I was at our, I mean you’re house today to get the last of my things. I left the keys and the spare key to your car on the table.” There was another pause and I could picture her trying not to cry, her big baby blue eyes filling up. When she continued however she sounded better than when she had started;
“Listen Megan I’m sorry I didn’t take things well. I didn’t mean a lot of what I said. I was just upset. I know I said I would make sure the magazine sent someone else to cover your next showing that I couldn’t see you anymore, but I really want to if it’s okay with you. I… I understand it wasn’t either one of us. I was looking for more and I’m sorry I called you cold. I know you gave as much as you could. We’ll both find what we want. I know you don’t think you can but you will Megan. You’ve been through a lot and you need that special someone who can understand you.”
I listened with mixed emotions; sadness at the fact that it had ended at all, but happy that Laura sounded like she was doing okay with it. When we had ended I had been more upset for her than myself. For me this was getting to be old hat, but Laura had not been in many relationships and I had selfishly let her fall hard and fast hoping she could be the one.
“Well I know when most people break up they always focus on the bad, and I just wanted to let you know that I’m choosing to remember the good times because there were a lot of those, I hope you do too. You’re a better person than you think Megan and were always good to me. I know you’re on vacation visiting your family, but when you come back give me a call I’d like to keep in touch. Bye Megan.”
I sat back and found myself smiling. A day ago I would have seen that call as another reminder of my problems; another sign that I wasn’t like everyone else that I couldn’t be happy. However after a fantastic twenty four hours with Mark, and the news Royce had just given me, I was in a much better frame. Laura was right, people especially myself always remembered the bad times. Hell Mark and I had been through plenty of them, but had spent the last couple of hours recalling some of our best times. It was too late to call Laura back, but I would make sure that I did tomorrow, tell her how much I appreciated what she had said, and would love to keep in touch with her.
As I sat back I found myself thinking of some of those times with Laura. I had spent close to a year with her but quickly looking back on it I think the first time I had been with her was the best. Laura had been so shy, I would find out later she normally never was, but she had been a fan of my work, and when she met me at one of my showings was completely taken by me and had no idea that I was open to women. She had been like a young girl who had suddenly been asked out by the most popular boy in school. As if in tribute to our time together I decided to stay inside for a few more minutes and let that night play through my mind.
I met Laura at one of my showings at The Black Flame. It was towards the end of the exhibit which I thought had gone pretty well, all in all it had been a good day. A few moments later it would become a great day. I was just getting ready to start taking some of the paintings down when someone called my name.
I turned to see an extremely attractive blonde woman who looked to be in her late twenties standing there with a small notepad in her hands. She introduced herself as Laura Manning a reporter from Art scope a Chicago based online Magazine. I told her I had heard of it, and she asked me if I might have a couple of minutes to answer some questions for her. I’m not really one to talk much about my work, I like to think it should speak for itself, but was smart enough to realize that press was a good thing. I admit that the fact that Laura was absolutely beautiful added to the desire to spend some time talking to her.
As I answered some basic questions, I let my eyes wander over her; I wasn’t blatant, waiting until she would start writing to check her out. Laura was a little shorter than me, with gorgeous honey blond hair that she had up in a bun that was way too old for her and that I was already dying to see down. She was wearing a small pair of those librarian type glasses that screamed sexy professional behind which were a pair of huge baby blue eyes. The finishing touch on that flawless face was a pair of soft full lips that were very much like my own.
Working my gaze downward I discovered that Laura’s perfection did not end at her face. Despite her obvious efforts to cover them with a very businesslike blazer, Laura’s breasts were still quite prominent pushing the blazer out and still showing a fair amount of cleavage as well as just a teasing glimpse of what looked like a black lace bra. Laura’s skirt was slightly above the knee and from what I could see of her legs they were as well shaped as the rest of her. All in all Laura had the appearance of one of those hot high school teachers that every boy fantasized about at night. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t already had a couple flit through my mind.
As I’ve mentioned I do not check out women on a regular basis, but Laura had me all but staring. My interest was piqued even more when after it occurred to me I had been staring for awhile and not paying attention, I looked back up and was pleasantly surprised to see Laura’s eyes fixated on my legs. I was wearing a long black skirt with slits that ran all the way up to my hips. The front and back of the skirt were held together with lengths of chain. I was wearing a black lace tank top that fell short exposing my stomach and the silver pendant that hung from my pierced naval. My long black hair was down and I was wearing very little make up except for the deep red lipstick which accentuated my perfect lips.
I watched Laura’s eyes work their way up from my long legs to my stomach, then linger on my tits which were propped up well by the top. I was wearing a lace bra under the top making my pierced nipples quite visible. The look on Laura’s face as she looked up and saw me looking was priceless.
“You were saying?” I asked pretending that I had been paying attention.