She really didn’t think much about it. It wasn’t on her To-Do list or her Bucket List. It was just something you do like eating and sleeping. The “it” was sex.
Lily had too many other things to think about like social engagements, working out at the club, luncheons with the girls, and volunteer work.
Lily is a pretty socialite in an unspectacular way, but not ordinary. She has an exotic beauty with an engaging smile that is as radiant as a college cheerleader’s. Her brunette hair is cut short in a pixie style. She wears a minimum of makeup, and dresses conservatively. It is her friendly agreeable personality that attracts both friends and strangers. Men occasionally make passes at her that Lily laughs off like a stale joke.
Her wealthy father died when she was in high school. At the age of twenty-four, Lily inherited millions. She can afford just about anything she wants, although Lily is considered frugal by her wealthy friends. Her Beemer is old, two years old. Lily’s wealth bought her a winter home in the Bahamas and a handsome husband. Like one of her husband’s buddies said, “She’s a classy broad.”
She is now thirty-one and mostly happy. There are times when she wonders if marrying Adam, her college boyfriend, was her best move. Adam is not her equal intellectually. When he is not at work, he spends his time, playing rugby, watching sports and drinking beer with the guys. Sex with Adam is, well, okay.
All of this would still be true today if she hadn’t met a stranger while making a frequent visit to the art museum. The museum had just opened a traveling exhibit called “Eroticism Through the Ages.” It included paintings and sculptures from Greece to the Renaissance to the present. Many pieces surprised her by their boldness and extremism.
“Hello,” the stranger said. “Are you enjoying the exhibit?” He was rugged looking, but she thought it was in a good way.
“Yes, I think so,” Lily answered, “but I’m not sure where we draw the line between art and pornography.”
“Good point,” he replied with a broad smile. “It’s in the eye of the beholder. My opinion is that pornography IS art.”
“Do you think so?” she asked.
“Of course. Is there anything more beautiful than making love? Is there anything more pleasurable than naked human bodies, sexual intercourse and procreation?” he asked.
“To be honest, I’ve never thought of it that way.”
He added, “We are so pleased that our museum took the risk of having this exhibition because so many museums are now pulling back on displaying nudity and eroticism. The critics and censors have been brutal. Hey, my name is Eric.”
“Oh, I’m Lilith, you know, the dangerous demon of the night. Everyone calls me Lily.”
“Do you come here often, Lily?” Eric asked.
“Yes, actually I do. I love art even if it is a little pornographic. Take this one by Michelangelo. It’s so sensual without being overly graphic.”
“I see. I agree although I prefer something more lascivious like what I saw at the Khajuraho Temple in India.”
“I’m not familiar with the Khajuraho Temple. Is it shown here?”
“I’m afraid not. The sculptures are on the temple walls and can’t be transported, but I have some photos if you’d like to see them.”
His offer surprised her and she asked, “Do you work here?”
Eric smiled again saying, “Well, yes. I’m the curator.”
“Oh that’s great, Eric. I wanted to meet the curator because you are doing a terrific job.”
“Thanks, Lily. We do our best but funding is always a problem. Anyway, would you like to view some of my research photos?”
“Of course, but I’ve got to meet some friends in a few minutes. Can we meet tomorrow afternoon at say, one?”
“One o’clock would be fine.”
Lily had no friends to meet that day. It was a delay tactic so that she could browse the Internet and find the Khajuraho Temple sculptures. She didn’t want to be caught looking shocked when she should be appreciating fine art.
But Lily was shocked when she walked into the curator’s office the next day. In various locations in the room were paintings of people fornicating, and sculptures of males with huge erections. In one corner was a partially broken sculpture of a couple exchanging oral sex. There even was a mosaic of a gay men sucking each other’s cocks.
“Does this embarrass you, Lily?” Eric asked.
“To be frank, Eric, it does. This isn’t art,” she said in a firm, no nonsense tone.
“Well, actually, they are considered art by some. These were sent here from various worldwide museums. We are too puritanical in this country to be able to include them in the exhibit, so I keep them in the office.
“Look over here,” he said motioning to a sculpture of Pan copulating with a goat. “This is from the Naples Museum. Over here is artwork from Pompeii.” It was a copy of a wall mural entitled Mercury/Priapus.” It was of man with an enormous phallus.
“You ought to take a look at this book of erotic art from the Pompeii bordello, Eric suggested. “Apparently the ancient Greeks weren’t as prudish as Americans, neither were people in the Renaissance.”
Of all the art hidden in Eric’s office that rattled Lily the most was the bronze ‘flying phallus’ amulet from the first century BC. It was a enormous cock with a tail and bells hanging around it. “The erect penis is such a magnificent symbol of power, don’t you think?”
“I suppose,” Lily reluctantly admitted. “It’s also quite intimidating. I guess I’m getting a lesson in art education, Eric, but I was here to see the Khajuraho Temple sculptures.”
“Of course,” and he fired up his computer to browse through a dozen twenty-first century pornographic pictures before he came to those like Lily had seen on her home computer. They were tame compared to what she saw on the curator’s screen and in his office.
“Have you had lunch?” he asked.
“No, not yet.”
“There’s a nice café around the corner from the museum. They have a wonderful pasta menu. Care to join me?”
Lily hesitated, then said, “Sure.”
At Arts’ Café, they both ordered linguine. Lily chose a white wine. Eric asked for a glass of water, no lemon. They talked a little bit about art, then about recent books they’d read and their favorite music. Eric liked jazz. Lily said Mozart’s “The Magic Flute” was her favorite opera.
Lily changed the subject and asked, “Do you paint, Eric?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. I have a studio on the East Side where I dabble in oils. Have you done any modeling, Lily?”
“Oh I did a little in high school but nothing since.”
“Maybe you could model for me.”
“What kind of modeling?
“Nudes, mostly.”
“I could never do that.”
“Well, maybe I can show you some of my work. It might change your mind.”
“I would like to see what you’ve done, Eric, but not today.”
“Okay, maybe next week. How about Tuesday?”
“Give me your phone number, and I’ll let you know.”
Lily was obviously cautious and needed a few days to think about it. What she began to realize was that a switch had been flipped after her visit to the museum. She was beginning to fantasize about “IT.” She was thinking about sex for the first time instead of who to invite to their dinner party. It made her wet, dreaming of fucking a large oversized cock like on the Mercury mural. It scared her to be having such dirty erotic thoughts. Maybe it was her imagination she told herself yet when she got home, they didn’t disappear. Lily wasn’t just thinking about sex, she wanted it.
Her husband wouldn’t be home from a business trip until later in the week, so in the meantime, Lily pleasured herself with two fingers in her pussy and a thumb on her clit. It gave her a rare orgasm. She hadn’t masturbated since college, but now things were different. The intense joy of climaxing would have to be a part of her daily workouts if she continued to see Eric’s art.
The first night in bed after her husband, Adam, returned home was another disappointment. She was on her back in missionary as he plunged in without even considering foreplay. Adam was in and out and asleep in the blink of an eye. It was a joyless unsatisfying fuck. Lily fled to the bathroom to finish by herself.
The next morning, Lily text’d Eric. “How about two on Tuesday afternoon?”
Moments later he wrote, “Sounds good. See you in my studio at two.” His signature included the address.
The studio was in a loft above a hardware store with high ceilings and large picture windows. Props were scattered around the room including a table, chairs, a bed, and an overstuffed sofa. Of course there was Eric’s art supplies, paintings, and sculptures. Lily wasn’t as shocked by what she saw in the studio as what was in his office. There were nudes, of course, and some paintings that she thought were light pornographic art. Unlike viewing the museum exhibit and the curator’s office, it no longer upset her. It just made her horny. “Who modeled this?” she asked about a man eating out a voluptuous woman.
“No one. It is based on a sculpture in my office using some artistic license. Do you like it?”
“I guess so,” she said in a whisper.
Showing her another painting he said, “This one I call ‘The Xtra Kiss’ imitating Rodin’s sculpture.” It showed a nude couple embracing like in the original, “The Kiss,” but with the man’s hand between the woman’s legs instead of on her hip. Her arm wasn’t around the man’s neck like in Rodin’s work, but held a nicely endowed erect cock. “I like to replicate the classics and portray them in a more erotic setting,” Eric explained.
As Lily looked around, she saw familiar scenes, those she had seen in museums but with a salacious twist. Some were humorous, others were purely pornographic. One was a Blondie cartoon with Dagwood between her legs. The joke was how Dagwood loves to eat. Another was a take-off on Norman Rockwell’s “Girl At The Mirror.” In Eric’s depiction, the innocent looking girl was naked with her legs apart, rubbing her shaved pussy.
“Eric, isn’t the girl in this Rockwell a little young? How old is she?”
“Don’t get your panties all in a knot, Lily. All of my models are of legal age. This girl is eighteen and a first year student at the art academy. Her name is Jessie and loves to model for me.”
It troubled Lily that she was beginning to accept what she was seeing without objection, even appreciating them as an art form. The side effect was her panties weren’t in a knot. They were soaked.
“So, what have you decided about modeling?” Eric asked her.
“I wouldn’t mind it if it wasn’t so lewd.”
“You’ll do a nude for me then?” he asked.
“Maybe a topless, that’s all.”
“How about John Singer Sargent’s ‘Madame X’? Come back to the studio wearing your most elegant black gown with spaghetti straps like in Sargent’s painting. We can go from there.”
“I think I can do that. When?”
“How about Saturday?”
“What time?”
“I work at the museum all day so it will have to be after dinner. Is eight Saturday evening okay?”
“I’ll check and text you.”
“And don’t wear a bra. The cups and strap leave unwanted marks.”
Telling her husband she was going out with the girls, Lily arrived at the loft shortly after eight. A certain premonition, call it intuition, followed her on the way to Eric’s studio. Maybe this wasn’t going to be about modeling. Maybe I’m wanting more than being an artist’s model. Then she asked herself, If so, how far am I willing to go? Lily didn’t need the answer. She already knew the answers before leaving home.
Eric was at his easel when she walked in the door wearing stiletto heels, and what her dress maker called a “wrap maxi dress.” It was held up with thin shoulder strings and slit up to her hip. It was both elegant and sexy. She accented her outfit with a diamond bracelet and a strand of pearls. Eric was pleased with what he saw.
“You are beautiful, Lily. You are the perfect Madame X! Perhaps you would join me in a glass of wine before we start. “Is Sauvignon Blanc alright?”
“That’s fine, Eric,” she said with a forced smile. She was nervous and beginning to doubt herself. The first glass of wine helped. The second put her at ease.
“It’s almost nine,” Eric began, “so let’s get started.”
Lily frowned when she said, “What do you want me to do?”
“Stand by that round table and touch it with your right hand. Turn your head so I see your face in profile.” Lily posed while Eric sat at his easel sketching.
“Perfect,” he said. “Now drop the shoulder string on your left side and uncover your breast.” Eric continued sketching while Lily revealed her left breast.
She watched nervously as Eric’s pencil moved swiftly over the canvas. At least a quarter hour had passed when Eric asked, “Are you okay? Can we go on or do you need a rest?”
“I’m fine, Eric.”
“Good, then slip off the other string and let the top of your gown fall naturally.” Lily was now topless with the dress hanging from her hip. “My god, Lily. Your breasts are perfect. I had no idea you were blessed with such fabulous tits.”
“Thanks. It’s because I like clothes that don’t over emphasize my body.”
“I’ll bet you have other secrets under that dress.”
“What do you mean? I just have on my panties.”
Eric returned to his canvas for awhile longer, then he said, “Maybe we should have a look at what’s under those panties.”
Lily gave him a vacant stare and said, “I don’t think so.”
“Did I misunderstand when you walked in here with that sexy dress slit up to your pussy and wearing fuck me heels?”
Lily was stunned by his arrogant remark. She had to have a comeback. “So, Mr. Know-it-all, you think you’re a mind reader.” It wasn’t great but at least it kept her in the game.
“I’m not reading minds, my dear Lily but the truth is, you came here to see if you are still a desirable woman. The answer is hidden by that dress and under your panties. You can hide behind your pearls and diamonds, but you can’t hide behind your desires.
Eric stood uncomfortably close to her, unhooking her dress that fell to the floor. He turned her toward him, appreciating every curve of Lily’s body. She felt vulnerable, but strangely excited standing in front of him nearly naked.
“Okay, are you satisfied now?” she barked.
He held her head and gave her a forceful deep kiss, then said, “Not quite,” pulling down his trousers.
Her heart skipped a beat when saw the size of his erect cock. It wasn’t like her husband’s. It was thick and as hard as a baseball bat. Eric was what she had been imagining and dreaming about. It was too late for her to resist.
He bent her over the round table, peeling off her panties. Lily was totally nude except for a necklace, bracelet and spiked heels. He was now over her, wrapping his arms around her waist, grabbing her tits, pinching her nipples. It felt so good, so intoxicating to be taken savagely.
She could feel his hard cock rubbing against her ass, then came the exhilarating feeling of him entering her slick pussy. It slipped in easily. It wasn’t just his size that filled her with lust. It was fucking this man she hardly knew and feeling desperately euphoric with every stroke as he banged into her. Eric was in no hurry to cum. She could hear Eric’s breaths coming harder while she experienced a mini orgasm followed by another, then a earth shattering climax when his cum burst inside of her. They both finished gasping for air.
He didn’t pull out for the longest time, not until he softened, leaving Eric with a dripping flaccid organ. “Now I’m beginning to be satisfied my dear woman.” He emphasized the word, “beginning.”
Lily was still catching her breath when she said, “I guess I’m beginning to like modeling too.”
The modeling session didn’t end until he sat her on a chair spreading her legs so that he could make a quick sketch of his cum seeping from her well fucked pussy. Eric complimented her on her bush. “I think it gives you a retro look that is perfect for this drawing, Lily.”
He was now fully undressed standing in front of her wanting for her to give him a blow job. At first, he lifted his balls having her lick the underside until he was hard enough to stuff it in her mouth. Lily licked up and down the length of his shaft, stopping to pay special attention to the knob. That is what her husband liked. Finally, she licked her lips and dove in, taking him most of the way but not deep throat. It would take time for her to learn to swallow him whole.
Saliva drooled down her chin while Eric relentlessly fucked her mouth. Then he could no longer wait. “Open wide, and stick your tongue out. I’m going to quench your thirst, and I want you to take all of it.”
He rubbed and stroked his cock, dangling it over her lips. Her mouth was open, her tongue hung over her lower lip ready to accept his milky fluids. She didn’t have to wait long. He shot a ribbon of cum on her tongue and lips, not missing his target by much. Lily took every drop and swallowed in a single gulp. It was the first time she tasted and swallowed cum.
“Lily, you had such an erotic, fuck me expression when you swallowed my juices.”
“I did?” she said but not surprised.
“You make me so fucking horny, Lily, but it’s getting late. You need to be home before your husband gets curious. We’ll finish your Madame X portrait next week.”
After that, Lily was never sure if she wanted him finishing in her vagina or in her mouth. It didn’t matter. She loved it either way. The sight of cum blasting out of his cock coating her tongue ignited her sexual desires. The pulsing and ejaculation of hot jizz into her pussy was equally sensual and satisfying.
Lily returned the next week, but there was no pretence of modeling. She fucked him eagerly, even anticipating every stroke of his hard cock inside her. Lily was consumed by her new sexual appetite, either by him squirting his abundant fluids in her mouth or in her pussy. Lily now appreciated that there was a lot more to sex than getting laid in a conventional way by her husband. Lily realized that good sex does not wait for love or romance. Sex is impatient, waiting for her carnal desires.
Over the next couple of months, Lily had replaced her museum visits with afternoon rendezvous’ at Eric’s studio. There were times when Lily’s wifely duties were also expected, so having sex with Eric as well as a close communion with her husband, Adam, occurred on the same day. With Adam, sex was routine. With Eric it was always erotic dirty sex, pleasurable and always different and new. Sex with two men only hours apart invigorated her libido. She had now become a slut, and Lily savored every moment.
There were times when Lily had what she called her, “horny days.” If it wasn’t on a day to meet Eric, she took care of it herself at home. However one particular day, she was to see Eric in the evening. He had promised to bring her a present, so waiting all day was torture. Lily was so ready, so needy, so wet that she didn’t bother wearing a bra or panties, just a casual summer dress that was so light that the slightest breeze could blow it off.
But there was a surprise waiting for her. Eric wasn’t in the loft. Instead, she was greeted by a young man with blond hair and blue eyes. He was younger than Eric and looked to be in his early-twenties. He was a woman’s dream, a hunk.
“Hello, I’m Liam. You must be Eric’s model. He said you would model for me.”
By that time, there was an understanding that “model” was a euphemism for “fucking.”
Oh my god, Lily thought. Liam is my present! Having sex with a complete stranger was the most libidinous present she could ever have imagined. It was also the first of many “presents.”
Liam had her dress off and on her knees before she could ask why Eric wasn’t there. Lily didn’t care. She was so hot, she wanted this young man or any man’s cock. Liam seemed nervous so she helped him out of his pants, then took his dick in her mouth. In a few minutes she had him as hard as a steel pipe.
She liked what she saw. He had shaved his balls and pubic hair as smooth as a new born. But once she began licking his balls and sucking his big steely pole, he didn’t last long. Before she could deep throat him, he filled her mouth to overflowing with his youthful load. She was momentarily disappointed that he had finished so quickly until she saw that he continued to be hard with an erection that rivaled many of Eric’s phallic castings. He was young and recovered quickly, up and ready to thrust his cock deep into her cunt.
“Oh my god, oh my god,” she shouted as he plowed into her, first from the front, then from behind. He now had staying power and had her on top, then in reverse cowgirl. She had him balls deep, gyrating her hips, grinding her pussy to reach and scratch every possible pleasure point. Lily couldn’t keep track of the number of her orgasms, screaming, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” with each one. She thought it was a shame that males couldn’t cum as often and in succession like a woman. Finally he did cum, pulsing and shooting his load into her fuck hole that felt as warm and comforting as a hot shower on a cold morning. When he finished, Liam was silent, leaving her in the loft alone, naked and satisfied.
The next week was a repeat but not with Liam. A black dude with a huge cock fucked her raw. Her husband, Adam, wanted her that night and as far as she could remember, it was the only time she told him she had a headache. The truth was, the ache was between her legs.
Strangers continued to replace Eric in the loft. Most of the time it was in the early afternoon when her husband was at work. They came in all sizes, ages, and colors. Lily was exhilarated by the variety. It wasn’t Eric she wanted to screw anymore. She was hooked on having sex with anonymous men. She craved having sex with new men, strange men. Lily had learned that she was as greedy for sex as the men she fucked. It gave her pleasures unequaled by all other of life’s endeavors. It seemed that Lily was making up for lost time.
Most of her men liked her bush. Several wished she was shaved. Lily compromised and gave it a crew cut, and she began to dress more provocatively, more alluring. She loved what she had become, the new Lilith, a whore masquerading as a faithful wife.
Some men she fucked during the year at Eric’s studio were more memorable than others. The muscular construction worker was one in a million. He was rough and crude that excited Lily, making her so wet it was like a faucet had been turned on inside her. When Lily saw he was undersize, almost deformed, she had a momentary flashback to a Wendy’s commercial when an elderly woman asked, “Where’s the beef?”
His balls made up for his underwhelming cock. They were as big as a Bartlett pear dangling between his legs. She adored the feeling of them bouncing off her tight ass while he violently hammered into her. His groans and grunts of pleasure, her wails and cries of satisfaction were like the crack of thunder before the storm. And it was explosive! “Oh, oh. ah, ah, ah,” they sang when they climaxed together, draining his oversized balls in her hot snatch. It was a duet with him in a deep baritone voice. Her a soprano. It rang out with mutual gratification like in an aria from Verdi’s Aida. Maybe, she reasoned, size isn’t the only thing that matters.
A man from England had a wonderful London accent. He said “My dear wench, I could shag you until my John Thomas falls off.” It wasn’t hard for her to guess what that meant. His piston-like movements slipped in and out of her like on a slide trombone. In the end, as he blasted into her, he sounded more like a wailing trumpet.
There was the short man with a surprisingly large crooked cock reminding her of Vincent van Gogh. He didn’t speak English. It didn’t matter because sex has it’s own universal language. He humped her endlessly like a dog on a man’s leg. He amazed her when he was able to cum three times in the first hour, then again before he left a half hour later.
There was an awkward boy with pimples not quite out of high school that pussy fucked her until he demanded doing it anal. He was the kind of kid trying to prove he was macho, a stud. It was a tough sale with Lily being old enough to be his mother. Lily wasn’t prepared for anal, but it turned out to be more pleasurable than expected.
Then there was a man twenty years her senior who grinned when he watched her swallow most of his prodigious load. He politely said she had left some cum on her lip, then kissed her sucking off the remaining drops. The older man took his time recovering, but wasn’t idle. He gave Lily the best oral sex she could remember, eating her out by passing his succulent mouth over her pussy lips, licking and sucking her clit, fingering her, then fucking her cunt with his tongue. He turned her enflamed pussy lips crimson;. her clit stood erect. It sent tremors throughout her body, and she climaxed twice before he sunk his pecker into to her love chamber. Once inside, he took his time with her. It reminded her of the old Yogi-ism, “It ain’t over, til it’s over.” She doubted that Yogi had sex in mind when he said it. For her part, she felt a new sexual energy by being pleasured in every position. They left nothing unexplored.
He was the only man that offered her a fist full of money. He told her he had already paid Eric, but she was so extraordinary and accommodating, she deserved a tip. That’s when Lily realized for the first time that Eric was turning a profit while she was turning tricks. She was a whore but accepting money was a step too far.
She told the generous man that she didn’t need the money. He told her to contribute it to a worthy cause. Lily sent it to the museum’s traveling exhibit fund.
Now she recognized more than ever that Eric was lurking in the shadows, gratifying both her libido and his bank account. Lily was disappointed, but not quite ready to walk away from it. There was no going back. Her sex drive was in high gear. She was obsessed, addicted to the weekly clandestine trysts. It was at this point Lily knew that paradise wasn’t in jet-setting to the Bahamas, but in her pussy with a strange man’s cock pulsating inside.
Even unexpected situations didn’t faze her, like when two men met her in the loft. They were charming men about her age. Their names were Cyrus and Seth, twins. They said it was their birthday, and they always celebrated together. Lily didn’t doubt their heredity when she got a look at their cocks. They were like matching batons, hard and thick. This would be an afternoon that kept her busy for several hours.
The twins undressed each other as Lily watched. They moved to the floor inverted in a sixty-nine position. For a short time, they jerked each other off until each was stiff and rock hard. She was captivated by what she saw. It was stimulating to watch, but she thought it was brotherly love gone too far. What did these gay brothers want from her? she wondered.
Lily didn’t have to wait long to find out. They worked together at undressing her, then took turns having Lily give them blow jobs on their already erect cocks. Seth was infatuated with her pussy and ate her out letting Cyrus fuck her mouth. To Lily, it was the best of both worlds. “Come here,” Seth told his brother. “My god this girl’s hot. She’s so wet. She needs one of our dicks. You go first bro.” So Cyrus was first. Seth got sloppy seconds.
Neither of the twins needed long to recover. When they were ready again, it was time for DP. They had come prepared. Seth lubricated her ass and his cock while Cyrus shoved his cock back into her cunt. Lily had never doubled up before, so she was apprehensive. There was no need for apprehension once Seth mounted her and pushed in her ass. The feeling of two cocks filling her insides was inspiring in a very pleasurable way. They worked in and out of her like a well rehearsed team. Lily was always on the verge of an orgasm, getting close each time but never quite able to reach the summit. The feeling of delayed gratification only made her want it more and more. She shouted her demands. “Harder, faster and deeper,” she yelled with a primal cry.
Their dual ejaculations sent her over the edge. Her climax was explosive. Lily couldn’t catch her breath. Her heart pounded. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Lily had entered the twilight zone of erotic pleasure.
When the brothers had finished with her, Lily wished them a happy birthday and they left the loft hand in hand.
Lily could almost predict the arrival of her horny days, a feeling, an impulse, an itch. It would be tomorrow, the first day of several horny days she suspected, and she looked forward to meeting her next lover. Lily was restless and ready for the next encounter. Was it tomorrow or the next day? she wondered. She couldn’t wait, and had to take a chance hoping it was today. It turned out to be a fortuitous decision.
The door of the loft was open. The room was empty except for a girl, a very young girl. Lily recognized ther. It was Jessie, the “Girl At The Mirror.” She was young and fresh and as cute as a Barbie Doll. Surprised, the girl asked, “Who are you?”
“I’m Lily. Who are you?”
The girl didn’t say her name. Instead she said, “I’m here to model.”
“So you are a model, if that’s what we are calling it.”
The girl looked away and began crying. They both knew why. “But everything is gone,” she sobbed. “What happened to everything?”
“Look dear,” Lily said in a calm reassuring voice, “It appears you are being used. I know because so am I. Why are you doing it? You are so beautiful.”
“I have to. I need the money.”
“So your artist friends pay you?”
“Yeah. It’s not much but it helps and they aren’t friends.”
“Well, it’s more than I get. I do it because I love doing it. I hope you do too.”
“Sometimes, but mostly it’s just to get a guy off. I really don’t do it for my own pleasure. I wish I could.”
“Listen,” Lily told her, “we need to go to the museum and find Eric.”
“Who’s Eric?” she asked Lily.
“Eric is the guy who rents this loft.”
“No it’s not.” the girl said. “His name is Jacob.”
“I see. Okay, I’m beginning to see what this is all about. I’m so sorry for you.”
The girl broke into a uncontrollable flood of tears as Lily left for the museum.
In less than a half hour, she was at the museum asking for Eric, and wondering how many more girls like Jessie that Eric was using. No one at the museum knew an Eric so she asked for the curator. A stately woman about fifty years old approached her. “What can I do for you?” the woman asked.
“I want to speak with the curator.”
“My name is Mabel, and I’ve been the curator here for twenty years.”
“Then who is Eric? Maybe he calls himself Jacob.”
“We don’t know anyone by those names that work here.”
“But he has an office on the second floor.”
“Well, Miss, we rent several offices on the second floor.”
Lily was dismayed. “I was in one of the offices of a man who claimed to be the curator. Can I take a look?”
“It’s locked, but I can take you up there and open it for you.”
They reached the office Lily believed to be the curator’s. It was also empty. “But where are all the art pieces that were in here?” Lily asked.
“The man moved out early last week. He claimed to be a dealer in antiquities,” the woman explained.
“Where did he go?”
“We have no forwarding address, Miss.”
That ended their conversation. Lily drove home feeling so very violated and as disposable as used Kleenex.
That was not all. A week later she received a large manila envelope containing photographs of her fucking the men she had met in the studio. She had no idea he had a hidden camera taking secret photos of each encounter. With the compromising pictures was a ransom note that said, “I have videos that your husband might enjoy or you can transfer $30,000 to my numbered Swiss bank account within seventy-two hours.” The bank and account number were his signature.
