"The way you capture Her divinity in this painting is superb." The gallery manager, Geoffri, held Adom's painting in his hands.
Adom took in his work. Deep reds dominated the portrait depicting the blood of man seeping into the earth; a sacrifice to the sleeping Goddess below the surface. He'd clothed the slumbering Goddess in a garment of deep purple; her skin the brown of the earth, her hair a tangle of black curls. Her arms lay taut over her head as though she stretched towards consciousness -or, perhaps, a binding force held her willing arms tight to the core of the earth. Her lips parted, her back arched in waking -or, perhaps, in the throes of orgasmic bliss.
"This is the type of work that women are looking for."
Adom turned away from Geoffri and glanced around the gallery. The Jayne Austere Gallery was one of the most prestigious galleries of art in their society. On the walls were images of the Goddess walking the earth, greeting animals, embracing little girls. Adom stifled a yawn as he gazed at Her hands stretched out to flora and fauna. He itched to get back to his studio and work on the depictions he preferred. Even now the details of her angular brown face, liquid gold eyes, and dark crown of spirals with a hint of red were fading from his memory like drying water colors.
It had been three months since she'd stormed into Lady Chanyn's drawing room. Her eyes had arrowed straight to his painting. She'd praised his work and ripped it apart in the same breath. Her critique had taken Adom in a new direction with his work. In this new direction, her face appeared in each of his creations. She was the goddess of his desires. But Adom made sure to disguise the lady's features. Ladies did not pose for paintings such as these. It was blasphemous to compare oneself to the Goddess.
"So, you'll show it?" Adom said to the manager. The older man eyed his painting as though he could fondle Adom's muse.
"It? I can't show just it. There needs to be a series. At least two more."
Adom's stomach clenched. He only had the one. Well, that wasn't true. He'd drawn, painted, and sculpted the lady in numerous renditions since he'd first encountered her months ago. None of those renditions would fit the style for a gallery frequented by women, and Adom wasn't willing to share his muse with the male collectors who would eagerly clamor for his sensual depictions.
"I only have the one right now."
Geoffri peered down his nose at Adom. Adom was used to it. He was discard and a former Pleasure Hound. Typically only ladies, first son lords, and second sons had their work shown in respectable galleries. And by respectable, he meant galleries in which women frequented without masks and hoods to hide their identities while gazing at banned erotic works of art.
"The new exhibit opens in one week. You're lucky there was a cancellation. We won't have another such opening for months. You must have at least two more paintings to have a wall."
A wall? Adom had to bend his knees to keep his feet from bouncing like a little boy's. A wall in a respectable gallery. A place to show his paintings and get the recognition he deserved. He knew it was a chance of a lifetime, especially for a discard with no patroness. He also knew creativity of this kind, the Goddess in pastoral or sacral settings, eluded him. Even now his fingers itched to change the purple gown to reflect the tone of the lady's skin color. To erase the lace covering her chest and expose two breasts he imagined to have dark, brown nipples. To take the red blood seeping into the earth and attach it to her untamed hair.
It was difficult for his mind to render respectable pictures. His mind always veered toward the lascivious. He had no thoughts of his Muse in respectable positions. When he saw her in his mind's eye, she was carnally displayed. Lips parted, breasts erect, thighs open.
"Either you have two more paintings to make a series, or you cannot show. Be sure they are respectable." Geoffri had seen some of Adom's earlier work popularized in those underground galleries only frequented by men.
Adom couldn't refuse. He'd have to find a way through. He nodded and took his leave of the gallery.
The moment he stepped outside, the brisk air assaulted him. That painting had taken him weeks to refine. He'd had to take out so many carnal indications. There was no way he could come up with other sacral depictions of the Goddess in a week's time. At least not without the model herself posing in a respectable fashion. Which would never happen. His muse was a lady and a friend of his Brother's wife. He couldn't bring any shame onto Jian and his family. Even if the lady miraculously agreed, there was another, more secret reason he could never allow her to pose for him.
Adom's fingers twitched. He knotted them into a fist until the feeling abated. He stood on the front stoop of the gallery. His gaze fell into the gallery window and saw the Goddess in a field of pastel flowers. The Goddess shining her light on baby girls. The most risqué painting depicted the Goddess on her throne with men bowed down in prostration. The pedestrian pictures had never interested him before, but if he wanted to move forward and be a legitimate artist he'd have to play the game.
Adom left the gallery and walked back home. Up in the sky, traces of the deep purple from the night hung in the horizon. The vibrant yellow-orange ray overshadowed the purple. The green of tree tops rose up to greet the rays. Blue birds flew by to complete the palette. Adom stood still for a moment and stared at nature's symphony of technicolor.
Arriving home, Adom grabbed for the door to his shop, Adom's Leaf. It was a modest establishment in a descent part of town. Before he could turn the knob, the door opened. Inside the frame stood a dark god of justice.
Emet was breathtaking in his crisp linens and tie. A legal brief slung over his shoulder, a tablet in his hand. His square jaw set firm as he stared down at the device.
Emet's face lit up when he saw Adom. "Where have you been?"
"Out for a walk." Adom wasn't ready to share his big news with his bondmate until it was cemented. "You're headed to the Voice's offices?"
"Yes," Emet said. "I'm helping to prepare for a debate on the new Insemination Bill."
"Insemination?"
"Yes, the Male Voice just might let me take lead on this. It's a great show of his trust in me. We talked about this the other night, Adom.”
"Did I have a paint brush in my hand?"
Emet sighed. They both knew well that Adom went into a zone when he painted. The entire shop could burn down and Adom wouldn't notice.
Emet reached up and brushed one of Adom's thick locks from his brow. "Speaking of your little distraction, do you need any supplies; paints, brushes, or canvases. I can pick up some before I return home tonight.”
Adom jerked back from Emet's caress. "It's not a little distraction. And I can buy my own supplies."
Emet's hand fell to his side. "I'm sorry, Adom. That was thoughtless of me. I know painting is your passion, and I support you in it."
Adom turned towards the shop’s entry. The dress shop was Adom's play at making money with his creations. But in the two years the storefront had been open for business, he'd sold exactly six dresses. All of them to former clients from their days as Pleasure Hounds. And they were former clients of Emet's, not his.
Emet, who stood half a foot taller than Adom and twice as broad, bent down to kiss Adom between his pinched brows. "Will you forgive me?"
Adom tilted his head to the side. The movement put his nose into the crook of Emet's neck. He inhaled the earthy scent of basil, an herb Emet always added to his eggs in the morning and his cutlets at night. Adom had fallen into the habit of adding the herb to his water jug, as though he could drink in the taste of his lover throughout the day. The truth was, without Emet's love and support, Adom would not be able to hold a brush in his hand, or stand on the stoop of his own storefront, or kiss the man he loved.
In answer to Emet's plea for forgiveness for an offhand remark, Adom reached his hand up and he kissed the man he loved. The kiss started light, an exoneration for a minor offense. But the scales quickly tipped into a major assault.
Emet pulled away first, breathing heavy. "I have to go or I'll be late. And I will be home late."
Adom leaned in and licked Emet's plump lower lip, then let his tongue caress the brown skin of Emet's chin. "You sure about that?"
Emet grinned. "Okay, only a little late."
Adom captured the juncture where Emet's chin and throat met, a spot which reliably brought the bigger man to his knees.
Emet let out a strangled breath, but held firm. "Fine, fifteen minutes at the most."
Adom pulled away and regarded the dark face he treasured most in this world. "I'll make it worth your while," he promised.
"I don't doubt it." Emet took a step to the side, his right leg a bit wobbly.
Adom smiled at the shake Emet had to give himself as he went down the steps and hopped into his conveyance. Emet gave his bondmate one final glance, a glance that told Adom it would be more like ten minutes of lateness, and then he took off.
Adom went inside and shut the door to the shop without locking it. Adom's creations hung lonely in the windows. There were rarely any customers. Women preferred other female clothing designers. They weren't interested in what a male thought looked good on their bodies.
He went down to his studio. All around him were pictures of his muse, mostly her body, not truly her face. In many of the depictions her arms were pulled taut over her head or behind her back. Her brown breasts stood exposed and erect, her thighs parted to reveal pink flesh. Such a lovely contrast, that pink to the brown flesh. Such a shame that none of these paintings would ever see the light of day.
He pushed these canvases aside and began to sketch out his lady, fully clothed, lips pressed together in a chaste smile, as she stood beside a baby doe.