Chapter 6: Mac’s Adventure

When Dan arrived at the restaurant, he parked, entered, and said to the greeter, “I’m with Mr. Henry McIntyre.”

Mac was one of the most successful gallery owners in California, his customers included famous movie actors and musicians, most of whom knew nothing about art apart from what Mac had told them, which was to buy lots of artworks from his gallery. Being the only Black gallery owner in California helped, too, because he got his pick of Black artists and could tell his customers that by buying them they were contributing to diversity and it would be good for their image. Dan felt lucky to be part of his stable.

“This way,” said the greeter, handing him a menu, and walking over to where Mac was sitting at a window table. There was a glass in front of him holding a Long Island iced tea.

“Have one of these,” Mac said as he sat down. “They make them from premium brands here.”

“No thanks,” said Dan. “I’ve had bouts with those twice before and both times I lost by a knockout. Just water, please.”

While they were waiting for their food, Mac became business-like.

“I have an idea for another exhibition of your work. What are you doing now?”

“Mostly freelance design and commercial art. I spent this morning working on labels for a boutique distillery. I need the money coming in. Child to support, you know.”

“Listen to this. A customer suggested this to me. A set of ten or so pictures of “Aspects of Woman” including mother, businesswoman, amazon, sportswoman, Wicca priestess, etc. Each paired, one clothed with the activity and paraphernalia as appropriate, and one nude, in the same pose. What do you think?”

“Clothed and nude? It’s not very original, is it? Goya did it long ago with his Majas, and Helmut Newton with They are coming.”

“Perhaps, but I’m sure they will sell. You need a bit of a push to use your real talents, not printing labels for whiskey bottles.”

“I’ll think about it,” Dan said, as the waitress served their food.

As they ate, Dan thought about it. The more he did, the more he liked the idea. What aspects should he select? Should he use the same model throughout, or a different one for each picture? A thought of Whitney as The Amazon crossed his mind, but he shut it down. Having her naked in his presence was far too risky, though he had fantasized about it a few times while masturbating. Marion as The Wicca Priestess was more like it. But on balance, the same model for each picture would be better, also much easier to organize; but she would have to be paid.

Putting this aside for the moment, he said, “How did your trip to Dallas go?”

“Great. I made some good contacts, sold a few things, and better still, I was in the same hotel as a bunch of cheerleaders and their mothers. They were entrants in a competition. I recommend that if you want to score. They’re pushovers.”

“Teenage girls? At your age? You pervert!”

“Not the girls. Their mothers. Put yourself in their shoes. You’re close to forty, you know your attractiveness to men is fading. To make this obvious the cheerleaders are getting all the ogling when you are together. You’re very susceptible to any display of male admiration. Now you are in a strange town where no-one knows you, you’ll be back home in a few days. You are away from your husband, if you have one. Ideal conditions for a fling.”

“And you had one.”

“And how. Wow, what a woman! Her name was Brittany. I went into the hotel bar the first night and it was full of women; there wasn’t a table free. I noticed several of them eyeing me up. I’m still a babe magnet, even if I am forty-five.” (“Hah!” said Dan to himself) “I had a quick look around and went over to the table where the best-looking ones were sitting. ‘May I sit with you, ladies,’ I said. ‘Sure,’ they said. So I sat down and started chatting. Introductions were made, more drinks ordered. The blonde sitting next to me was a triumph of silicone, hairdressing and Botox. Clearly she was trying hard to attract a man. We were sitting so close together our thighs were touching. I moved mine against hers a little, and she returned the pressure. I started feeling her thigh, and she started feeling mine. Soon we went up higher, but after squeezing my penis a couple times, she pulled her hand away and straightened her skirt. She got up to go to the bathroom, and I followed her, to cheers from the other women. I made it obvious I was going to the men’s room, but as our ways diverged, I slipped her my room number, and she said, ‘After Lauren is asleep.’ We went back to the table, and we were all getting slightly drunk. After a while, I excused myself and went to my room. I showered, put on a hotel robe, read for a while, and then there was a knock on the door.”