Chapter 4
Sette
Sette Christie had never been so content in her life.
Work was fantastic. Joy had called her the day before to announce that a gallery in New York was interested in featuring her June collection in the summer.
“I need a shortlist of the pieces you want to submit… oh, and how about a title for the collection? That would be SO HELPFUL, hint hint.” Her finances were better than ever, with her accountant announcing that some of her stocks were skyrocketing and now was the time to cash out and invest in other things for more long-term gain.
The weather was so beautiful that she was able to spend a healthy amount of time both indoors working and outdoors socializing with friends, some of whom she hadn’t seen in ages.
Even her father didn’t give her crap for retiring from the medical world the last time they chatted on the phone.
As for her love life? Sette had never been so infatuated as she was with June. Every time she thought of June, her face lit up, and she started whistling a tune she had never heard before. Maybe she was making it up. Maybe it was a sign that her next artistic venture would be music.
When she saw June instead of thinking about her? Life was complete.
Sette took the good news from her accountant as a sign that she should keep bidding on her fair June.
She and the other woman were at a stalemate in the mid-60s.
Sette wasn’t sweating it. At some point, the other woman would give up, and Sette was willing to go up to a full 100k. June was worth every pretty penny.
Of course, she often fantasized about not having to pay for her at all.
If June were a real girlfriend, Sette would be asking her to move in with her.
Introducing her to the family. Taking her to Mexico like she promised, so she could post selfies of them on social media.
The world deserved to see them together, happy.
One step at a time. First, she would win the bid and become June’s greatest patron ever. Then, after a while, if things were still going well and they meshed in the civilian world, as June called it, Sette would start thinking about the next steps.
What were the next steps? At some point, Sette would want more from June.
If not for her to retire from her career as one of the country’s greatest courtesans, then to at least leave the Manoir and be with her first and foremost. It was a pipe dream, and perhaps their goals would change as the months and years went on, but the truth was that Sette had never felt like this before.
She fully intended to ride it out as far as it could go.
One. Step. At. A. Time. Still, she looked like a fucking idiot as she sat at her and Zara’s favorite outdoor bistro, sunglasses covering her love-sick eyes, but her smile so broad that more than one person looked at her as if she were criminally insane.
“You’re despicable,” Zara grunted. She stabbed her crab cake with a fork, but did not eat it.
“I don’t even have to ask what you’re so dumb about.
It’s that woman. Congrats, I guess. I would say I like the new positive you, but I still say you’re going to be eating this situation for shit-breakfast sooner rather than later. ”
“Don’t care what you think.” Sette emptied a pack of sweetener into her iced tea.
She stirred it a little too vigorously, sending tiny splashes of light brown all over the bistro tablecloth.
“I’ve put up with every woman you’ve fallen in love with since we’ve known each other.
Remember Cathy? After the second date, you were pacing around here, whooping and hollering, talking about how much you wanted to marry her already. ”
“Yeah, and it turned out that Cathy was dating Jeremiah Holder already, whom she married instead of me. That sucked.”
“How about that model from LA? The soap opera star? Something like that?”
“Cindy Charles. Had to dump her because she was stealing things right beneath my nose. Lost my grandmother’s 19th-century locket because of that klepto.” Even so, Zara grinned. “She was a great lay, though. Almost made it worth it.”
Not as good as June, I’m sure. Sette didn’t know how it was possible, but every encounter with June was better than the last. Maybe it was because she had shed every layer of inhibition she had been harboring for years.
June didn’t care if Sette banged her against a stone bench or in her soft, malleable bed.
The urgency, the desire, the passion were the same.
When Sette asked her what she wanted? “Make love to me as if you have everything to prove.” Sette had.
She not only wanted to be one of the most memorable lovers in June’s busy, infamous life, but she also wanted to prove how much she cared about her.
“I have to tell you, though,” Zara continued, drinking beer.
They were both waiting for their lunches to arrive.
“You’re making me want to find a girl of my own.
Maybe not from that Manoir, though… I hear that the woman I was with is the mistress of the Anderssens.
You know. The Anderssens. I ain’t going up against that. I’d fear for my life and reputation.”
Sette vaguely knew who Zara talked about.
I’m not in the society like she is. Sette grew up rich and privileged, but she was from a medical family.
They traveled in different circles from the other wealthy types…
and tended to be antisocial everywhere but the golf course. Dentists, on the other hand…
Zara was from that other world. And friendly. And charming. She knew everyone, even if only tangentially.
“I had figured you were jealous. First time I’ve had a great girl, and you don’t.”
“Sure. Let’s call it jealousy.” Zara glanced at the waitress walking by. A new girl. Big, round ass. “Either way, I’m happy for you about the gallery thing. I know this is huge for you.”
“You’re coming to the show, right?”
“Of course I am. What, do you think I’m that shitty of a bitter, jealous friend? Nah, I’ll keep telling you that you’re making a huge mistake. I’ll be first in line at your show, though. Wow me enough, and I’ll even buy a painting from you!”
“Whoa, slow down, hustler. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“Tell me the truth, though,” Zara said. “You’re not falling for this woman, are you?”
Sette had to get serious, too. “I try not to think about it. Taking one thing at a time.”
“All right. I’ll leave you alone about it.”
Their food came, giving them a respite from this old conversation.
While the waitress put down their food – and Zara not so covertly checked out her ass – Sette thought about her feelings for June; however, they could be classified.
I feel like I would do anything for her.
Throw money at her. Tell her she was beautiful.
Paint her until death. Give her a shoulder to cry on, not that she knew what June would be crying about.
Drive her halfway across the world so she could see an old friend she hadn’t spoken to in years.
Whatever she wanted, Sette would give it to her.
Wasn’t that a form of love?
Sette dove into her clam chowder and salad. Zara’s right. I’m doomed. Still, she blustered through her day with a smile on her face. Nothing could take away her happiness right now.
Later that night, she sat in her studio, finishing up her latest portrait of June – the one of her on the fountain, caught biding her time between clients.
Sette loved this pose. It was natural, relaxed, beautiful. June appeared in her element while also sharing an intimate moment with the viewer. It also wasn’t sexual, which was a nice change of pace from the other, more explicit portraits.
I’m keeping this one. Sette decided that as she added a blend of brown to June’s golden hair.
Maybe she would display it in a gallery, but no amount anyone offered would be enough to make her part with it.
It represented more than a moment they shared in that hedge maze.
It represented the beauty Sette saw within June. Intimacy unmatched.
Once finished, Sette sat back and viewed it in context with the other completed paintings.
A dozen Junes gazed at her, some of them with come-hither eyes, others with nothing but humor, yet even more begging her to think of no one but her.
Accomplished. June was more than a muse now.
Sette was her love. She supposed every artist had to have that muse who was also a great love.
Not that it ever ended well for those other fools. Sette was in good company, then.
She spun around on her stool and looked out the darkened window. Enough lights were on overhead that the paintings reflected in the glass before her. Sette was surrounded.
For a split second, she realized her folly.
Then, like the true fool she was, she crushed it down, deep, deep into her stomach where it wouldn’t have to be acknowledged. All she cared about was breathing in her careless emotions.
Sette pulled her phone out of her pocket and texted Joy.
“My collection is called The Consummate Courtesan.” It was perfect.
Artistic, poetic, classy… and true. June was consummate.
A tender specimen who put others before her own needs, even if those others served her needs.
A beautiful, darling woman who made everyone around her comfortable, even if they didn’t agree with her lifestyle.
The next time Sette saw her, she was going to worship the ground June walked on.
She would prove that there was no other who could make her as happy.
Sette walked into a real courtship. Yes.
Yes, it was a courtship. Eventually, her graceful courtesan would become the only woman who mattered in her world.
Sette’s heart beat erratically to think it.
I’m a stupid bitch in love. She shoved her phone back in her pocket after receiving Joy’s confirmation. And I don’t care.