A Tribe For Tethys, Part 1 Chapter 4

Part 1: Gesso

Chapter 4: Rethinking the Commission

I have a lot to do. I rarely work on weekends, and certainly haven’t this one. That always leaves me with a backup on Monday – bills, emails, browsing over the sites of other artists I follow, and then getting down to my own ideas. My latest commission is still languishing in my mind. It was delivered to me as a fairly conventional “Little Mermaid” scene, a mermaid with flowing hair, sitting on a rock in a little bay, with gentle waves, gazing towards a setting or rising Sun.

I’m starting to have second thoughts. I look over my preliminary sketches and studies. I have waves, corals, rocks, female shoulders, but I just can’t feel that scaly butt and fins. What if I just made her a nude woman instead? It’s a little inconsistent, I think, that as much as I love spending my personal time nude, and I’m naked now as I sit at the computer staring at Inkscape, that I rarely feature nudes in my paintings. Most of my figures wear flowing gowns or classical draperies. Maybe it’s a lack of confidence, I wonder.

The thought comes to me that I want to do nudes. I want to do lots of nudes, in different positions. I want to do male and female nudes, full frontal, graphically displayed. I want to draw lovingly detailed penises, vaginas, pussies, cocks. I want to paint erotica. Fuck that, I want to do hard-core pornography. I want to detail the faces of women in the throws of orgasm, heads thrown back, mouths open in shrieks of passion. I want to illustrate the fierce triumphant bellow of a man in mid-ejaculation, just before his roar turns to a sigh. How can I differentiate these expressions from those of pain and anguish? Is it all a matter of context, or is there some subtle clue that shows in the faces unique to the sexual experience? I need to see more orgasms. Keep my eyes focused while I or my partner cums. Watch more porn. Not commercial porn, though. Those orgasms are largely if not almost entirely faked. I need someone to video my face while I cum. Jo might. Unfortunately, the last cumshot she did showed only the genitals. Maybe I could shoot her having an orgasm. Maybe we can catch some of our men in the act. There should be opportunities for study. It’s a worthy cause, it’s art!

Smiling, I go back to my current study. Erotica is for another commission, I need to figure out how to make this one work. And it seems I do. Maybe she can be a mermaid in spirit, she doesn’t have to look like a Disney character. It’s an idea that frees me. I work faster now, the composition starts to come together, the posture on the rock, the dual view of both the surface and the sea floor, the swimming fish, the octopus, the sweep of the lady’s back and waist, the breeze just barely catching her hair.

I use Inkscape, Gimp, and Blender to put my ideas together, I want to construct a detailed 3-D rendering of what my mind is seeing before I translate to oil on canvas. It will take two or three more days, at least.

I’m in a zone now, and the time flies by. I almost miss lunch. I quickly put together a tuna sandwich and a glass of milk, and as I sit down to eat the phone rings. I immediately remember. “Hello?”

A very deep, melodic, very male, voice replies on the other end. “Tethys, my beautiful woman. I’m sorry for the delay, I fear I’m calling you too late.”

“No,” I assure him. “This is a good time.”

“I wanted to make sure you were still available this afternoon, but I didn’t want to assume too much. If you are, I’ll have a surprise for you. But I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“It’s good, you can come over as soon as you can, I just have to make sure I get to my workout this evening.”

“No problem. W… I’ll see you shortly, my love.”

A surprise? I can’t begin to imagine what he has in mind. My concentration is toast now. There are a few small technical items I can work on that don’t require creativity, and I start fiddling with those, but what I really want to do now is lie back and put up the video of Carl and me at Hippie Hollow. I push the thought aside, barely, and get back to my project.

It’s about a half hour later when a knock comes at the door. The timing is right. No need to get dressed. It’ll be fun to open the door in all my naked glory. I’m grinning with anticipation.

Normally in a tale like this it’s inevitable that the protagonist will open the door only to find herself humiliated by some shocked stranger – a pizza delivery, the apartment manager, or worst of all, a policeman. Well, that isn’t a tale like this. In real life, people usually have a better idea of what’s going on, and surprises are unusual. That’s why they’re tropes.

I fling the door open with a welcoming smile, positioning myself to be prominently visible through the doorway, I want him to be pleased by what he sees. It’s not a trope. It’s a tall, handsome man dressed in a white polo shirt and white pressed slacks, all contrasting beautifully with the blackest skin I’ve ever seen.

“Hello, Beautiful,” he greets me in that deep, melodic, very manly voice. That voice. Of course, it’s Henri, the chef and owner of The Taino. I see him the least often of all my men, he’s very busy keeping the restaurant running and rarely takes time off, but he’s here for me today. I’m always overjoyed to see him.

I step forward in my nakedness to embrace him on the doorstep, and that’s when I see her.

“Oh my god!” I scream. “Sonia!” I change course in mid hug, leaving Henri’s outstretched arms groping the air. I grab Sonia by the shoulders and jump up and down like a kid at Christmas.

“Aaaaw!” shrieks Sonia, and only then do I have the momentary return of my faculties. I grab them both and pull them inside, shutting the door quickly.

“Is this my surprise?” I direct the question to Henri, but I know that she is. I haven’t seen Sonia since April, when she said she was going to China.

She sets her gaze on me. “You’re looking good, girl! You’ve put a few more pounds on, and it really puts all the right curves in all the right places. You still working out with that Carl dude?”

I return the stare. As attracted as I am to Henri, usually overwhelmed by the pleasure of seeing him and kissing him and fucking him and listening to him, now all I see is Sonia. She is stunningly beautiful. She’s wearing a white tennis dress with yellow trim, white socks and white tennis shoes. It’s like she was interrupted on her way to the courts. She certainly hasn’t worked up a sweat yet.

She’s dark black, almost as dark as Henri, with smooth, luminous skin, high cheekbones, perfect lips, slightly Asian features, and very short curly hair that covers her perfectly round skull like a well-tended carpet. She’s about my height, but a little heavier. It’s not fat. She’s a natural athlete, and is built like a cheerleader or a gymnast, which she was in college. Her smile immediately penetrates my soul. I love Sonia.

Henri stands a little bit apart, quietly waiting to be noticed. Finally he offers a shy wave of his hand and a small “Hello.”

I catch my breath. “Ok, not another word, not a hug, nothing until everyone is as naked as I am. Get those clothes off. You know it’s not even optional here.”

“That’s why I like you girl,” Sonia laughs obediently, lifting her feet to remove her shoes and socks first. Out of respect for the fastidious appearance of their clothing, I show them where they can neatly hang their outfits. In a couple of minutes they are acceptably, and wonderfully nude. They are spectacular.

They look like they belong together, neither is a stranger to the gym. Both slender, athletic, muscular, with tight butts and bellies. Sonia has perfect breasts, about twice the size of mine, as full and firm as natural tits can be. Her nipples are slightly darker than the skin surrounding them, and maybe a touch redder, but the contrast is not great. Her shaved pussy has a beautiful, smooth, rounded mons that sweeps downward into a slightly larger than average clitoral hood, and labia that extend just far enough to be noticeable. Her legs are obviously muscled, and the crease between pussy and thigh is perfectly recessed with no overlap. I’m not attracted to most women, but it’s impossible not to be awestruck by Sonia’s perfection. She knows it, and uses it to her advantage. I won’t begrudge her that.

Henri is lean and muscular, not with Carl’s mass and thickness, but not the wiriness of a runner either. If he chose, I think he could be a tri-athlete. He’s certainly welcome to be my Iron Man! He has sturdy shoulders, a nice chest over a slender waist. At an age when most men are starting to perfect their Dad bods, Henri is as trim and aesthetically pleasing as they come. It also doesn’t hurt that his pubes and balls are shaved. Huge balls. They would look even bigger if they weren’t hanging below such a huge cock. I’ve seen bigger, but only in a porn movie. Other than the size, it doesn’t have any of the quirks that set Taylor and Carl apart. It’s quite conventionally proportioned, a girth that matches its length, a foreskin that neatly covers the glans, and exposes it on cue when it’s ready to rumble.

I feel like I’m in the presence of sexual divinity.