Chapter 19

The "t" shirts were a good deal even if I wouldn't get to wear them much before the cold hit. They might or might not be wearable under sweatshirts during the old winter months. Still it had been a good use of my time while I waited to leave for my appointment at the school.

When I arrived on campus I found the Community College's reputation for being the redheaded step-child was well deserved. The Professor might have his classroom in the new Arts building, and online, but his office was in one of the 1940 brick classroom buildings from the county high school, whose campus had been donated to win the Foothills Community College for the area.

"J. Bradshaw please," I asked.

"I'm Joan Bradshaw," the young woman admitted.

"Oh then are you the charcoal and pastel drawing instructor?" I asked just a little skeptical.

"I am, and you must be Rose Seabold my 1 PM appointment?" she asked.

"Yes I am. I admit you are a bit younger than I expected," I said.

"Well you are a bit older than I expected, so we are even," the woman in her very early twenties said.

"I found your lesson interesting," I said.

"Not interesting enough to practice them," she said putting me on the defensive.

"I have to admit that is true," I said in total agreement. "I can only say in my own defense that I have been living out of a suitcase in a motel for the last two months."

"Frankly Miss Seabold, I have been expecting you to withdraw from the course," Joan said. "I'm very glad you came to do it in person."

"But that is not why I am here. I came to get my drawings and the critiques that go with them," I replied.

"Miss Seabold after seeing you, I have to confess you would make a much better model than an artist," Joan said.

"If that is supposed to be a compliment, you need to work on your people skills," I said.

"Well, yes it was a compliment but also a way of telling you that you need to do a lot more work if you want to be a sketch artist. You have an eye for good composition, but you lack the technical skills to translate the composition to a piece of art. You need to do a lot more practice," Professor Bradshaw said.

"Well that was pretty brutal," I said with a nervous laugh.

"Could I ask you, if you have had breast enhancement?" she said.

"As a matter of fact I have," I replied.

"Would it be possible for me to see them?" she asked.

"Not unless you buy me dinner first," I said smiling.

"Nothing like that I assure you. I would like you to model for our figure study lab," she said.

"What makes you think I would do that?" I asked.

"You obviously have an interest in art, and it would be a chance to get some first class drawings of yourself. We could also pay a hundred dollars a session," she said.

"I'm really not good at keeping schedules. I am sorry but it did sound like fun," I said smiling.

"I have one more offer. Let me draw you when it is convenient, and I will teach you how to use Leonardo," Joan said seriously.

"And what is Leonardo?" I asked.

"Have you ever heard of Photoshop?" she asked.

"Of course," I replied rather miffed that she thought I might be that stupid,

"Well Leonardo Is a portrait version of Photoshop type software. There is some special software and hardware that make it work. The school has the software and hardware. You can learn to use it. What you do after that is up to you," she said.

"I have to ask you is the picture on your desk the family?" I asked.

"Yes my husband and my ten month old daughter," she said.

"Then this is strictly a business transaction," I said.

"Absolutely," she said.

"You have a deal, if you can make arrangements for the tit for tat work," I said. She didn't get the humor at all.

"Now that we have settled that, could I see your body please?" she asked.

I lowered the forest green cargo pants, then removed the baggy sweatshirt with the cut off sleeves. Joan Bradshaw continued to watch. I figured what the hell in for a penny and all that, so I removed the bra and pushed my panties to the floor. She actually gasped.

"My god you will be the most beautiful woman I have ever painted," she said.

"Well I would rather it not look like a photograph and that you not sell it for and advertising shit," I said. "I had a bad relationship and I am hiding out."

"Oh I can imagine. Sure we can make you look different," Joan promised.

"One more thing," I said.

"What?" she asked.

"I showed you mine, now you should me yours," I said.

She looked confused when she said, "Are you saying what I think you are?"

"If you think I want to see your body, then yes I am," I replied. "It's not sexual but I want to see you before I let you draw me. You can think it over and when you decide call me." I turned to leave but she called me back.

"One more thing," how do I reach you?" she asked.

"You have my email but I can give you my cell number," I suggested. I scribbled down the number of the current burn phone for Rose Seabold.

"Very well, I will call," she said.

"I know," I replied. I really was sure she would call when she was ready to paint. I had a couple of surprises from Joan Bradshaw. One was the fact that she had office hours on Saturday and the other that she was so fucking blunt with her critique. I left with the drawing files to peruse at my leisure. I was enrolled so I intended to continue taking the classes, so fuck her.

I had a hard time believing we had been talking over an hour when I left. I had to admit there was some small talk between the take off your clothes bits. I had learned that she was breast feeding the baby, which her working in the online classes department made easier. She would pump her breasts then put the milk in the refrigerator for the baby's next meal.

She learned that I liked to draw portraits and hoped to do so before her rather rude critique. I also told her I had never married. I was pretty sure I mentioned that I much preferred men, but I had done it with a woman or two. That was just in the spirit of full disclosure. While on the road home I remembered her response. "That isn't part of our agreement. I am happily married," she had said. I had to admit I got no clear vibe from her.

I was home shortly after 2:30. I found a note on my door. It was from Carlos. I'm not sure I knew anyone else who left notes. Everyone sent text or email, maybe called on the cell but real hand written notes, nobody else did that ever.

The note read. "Welcome back Senorita Rose. I will be home tonight you can reach me there or I can come by on Monday Morning. Just let me know which would be better. Carlos.

It was sweet that much was for sure. I really just wanted to talk to him about planting a tree where the front part of the parking lot had been. I also considered a brick circular drive there. I needed his advice since I was so close to the road. What I really wanted was to see what he knew, if anything, about Rachael.

I went into the house and opened the computer to our 'email that never was'. I found a draft from Morris. She wanted to know why I felt this Rachael Rankin woman's disappearance might be trouble for us. I sent back the message explaining it all. She had better come through or I was going to start making waves. I had convinced myself, with no evidence at all, that it was imperative I get her story.

I ended the draft email with this note. You need to trust me on this, I have trusted you this whole time, now you need to trust me.

It was early evening when I called Carlos. I spoke first to his wife, she didn't seemed threatened at all by my call. "Hello is Carlos home yet. He left a note on my door. It said to call him tonight," I stated.

"Yes, he is here just a moment," she said cheerfully.

"Senorita Rose, it is good you have returned to your Country Store home," he said.

"Thanks, I wanted to know what I owed you for the work you did since our last settlement," I suggested.

"The amount is just over one hundred dollars," he said.

"Good, stop by tomorrow and pick it up. We also need to discuss some changes I wish to make to the driveway," I said.

"Very well, how about after church," he suggested.

"Sure bring your wife and kids. It won't take a minute," I informed him. "Better still I owe your family a meal. How about I meet you at a restaurant at the plaza for lunch after church. We can discuss the driveway there."

"You do not need to do this Senorita," Carlos said.

"I know that, it was my idea remember? If I didn't want to do it, I wouldn't have offered. So do your kids like Pizza?" I asked.

"All kids like Pizza," he informed me.

"Since I haven't spent much time around kids, I'll have to take your word for it. So tomorrow around noon at the Pizza Buffet?" I suggested.

"It will be about 12:30 getting the kids collected after church is not always easy," he said with a laugh.

"Fair enough," I said in agreement. I expected it would be more like 1 PM but I said nothing. After all Carlos had several kids.

I made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, which I was tempted to toast in the counter top oven but changed my mind remembering what a mess it made when I grilled it on my George Foreman grill.

I found an unopened bag of potato chips which had been included with some take out sandwich God alone knew how long ago. I opened it and found them to not be too awfully stale. They broke even and they did crunch as they would have if new.

I sat at the computer searching for anything to calm me down. Moving back to Country Store had its stresses. It was anything but the ideal lifestyle. Still I felt alive and connected here more than anywhere I had ever lived. Where else could I reinvent myself every day. Not just on the command of Controller but just because I didn't like what I had done. Just like the driveway of the Country Store home. I hadn't liked the drive so I was going to have it changed just because I fucking could.

I decided that the Internet was the greatest sex toy ever invented. I could produce my own porn just by finding a willing costar and using my imagination. The intensity of the experience was limited only by my partner's imagination.

So on my first night back in Farmer's Grove I didn't go visit Jeremy and Alice who I was sure were having a swinger's party, I went to the Internet to exercise my imagination. What I found was someone pretending to be a teenaged boy. The person on the other end of the fantasy was much too polished to be young.