Chapter 6 #3
His head turned to her, cocked, as if assessing.
His answer said he was more than willing to go through the opening she created.
“Some. Not many go into the arts for wealth and luxury, which is my forte. Sadly, I often see their products years later. I have met a few in my many years, however. Just not as many as other gods who dabble in art directly.”
He asked his own question in turn. “What’s your favorite piece at this museum?”
A sad smile stretched across her mouth, and she took his hand, leading him down a few flights of stairs and into a small alcove off one of the main hallways.
It was the entry to a larger room, and a person could miss the painting here it if they weren’t paying attention.
There on the right, a few steps from the entryway into the other space, was a small-ish canvas.
The frame of simple mid-grain wood highlighted both the painting and its almost lonely space on the wall.
Not for the first time, E thought whoever placed it here, like this, was a genius.
It helped highlight the isolation and longing in the piece.
“Christina’s World. Andrew Wyeth.” It wasn’t the most famous piece at MOMA, but also not the most obscure.
Enough people knew about the painting that it got traffic, but not anything like the Picassos or Pollocks in their collection.
It was also a deceptively simple painting.
It showed an older farmhouse in the distance, with a barn and a few outbuildings around it.
A sea of grassy hills stretched between those buildings in the background and the woman lying in a pale pink everyday dress, turned like she was reaching toward the house in the foreground, her dark hair pulled back but with strands floating in the breeze.
“Why is this your favorite?” The question wasn’t judgmental but curious. Plutus wanted to know what about the painting called to something in her.
“The painting is beautiful, of course. The colors are muted but gorgeous. The background and foreground have subtle and engaging detail. But it’s what you find out about the subject that makes it more impactful.
” She pointed to the woman. “See, Christina here actually lived on this farm. She was a neighbor to Wyeth for most of his life. She had a muscular disease, likely polio or something given the time period. She wouldn’t use a wheelchair, instead, she would crawl where she needed to go.
Which limited where she could go, you see. ”
She turned, faced him fully as he was already staring intently at her. There was something important there she needed him to get. “The title? It’s her world. Her whole world. She was confined by her circumstances.”
Plutus thought a beat then said, “Bittersweet.”
A piece of frost shook free from E’s heart at the word. It was perfect for the painting. The image and the history melded care, concern, longing, and need together. All for a woman who may have had more but couldn’t because of something she had no control over. A feeling E understood.
Without thinking, propelled to move by the word off his lips, she went up on her tiptoes, planted her hands on his massive shoulders to give her additional leverage, and put her lips on his.
E intended it to be a short, sweet kiss.
An acknowledgement they both saw the beautiful thing in front of them.
What she intended didn’t come to pass, though, because as soon as her lips met his, a chain tugged tight in her gut, wound around his body, and sucked them in close.
Or so it felt. She plastered herself to his body, needing to feel as much of him as possible.
Plutus twined his limbs around her, holding her close, leaving no air between them.
He pushed forward at the same time, forcing E’s head back as he hungrily sucked on her lips before her mouth gasped open.
Then her tongue was in play, wrestling with his sinfully nimble one.
A tinge of desperation drifted over them, as if they needed more and could never have it.
As if they’d waited their whole lives to be right there but now needed something different.
A moan swelled in her chest, passed from her to Plutus, and he swallowed it up. His hands roamed down, gripped tight on her ass, and she almost jumped up on him. Nearly wrapped her legs around his waist so she could grind into his hard body.
Almost and nearly because he pulled away a split second later, a growl low in his throat. Then E heard a muttered, “Sorry, dude,” as two snickering guys in their early twenties backed away from the doorway.
“Unbelievable,” Plutus hissed out. She felt mortified, so she tried to move away.
Except she was still locked up tight in his arms. “Oh, no, little one. No retreat for you now.”
“I’d rather not put on a show for more people,” she muttered, trying to tug herself away then.
A deep, long-suffering sigh came from Plutus. “I suppose you are right.” He softly caressed her ass one final time then releasing his grip. “Know this is not over. You let me in, E. I won’t be locked out again.”
E wasn’t stupid. She was a grad student at a prestigious university, for god’s sake. But she couldn’t figure out if he was talking about the conversation or the kiss. The scary thing was, she didn’t know if she was more concerned with her letting him into her body or her heart.