Chapter 1

I drove up the gravel driveway to the sprawling ranch-style house set smack dab in the middle of 40 acres of prime South Carolina countryside. Two acres of neatly tended lawn and plantings surrounded the house. Most of which was in the back. The rest was left as my father found it when he purchased the land. My father, an accomplished and well-regarded architect, designed and had the house built for the love of his life. My mother, Agnes Marie Taylor-Williams.

I parked my BMW, took my two suitcases and suit bag out of the trunk, and unlocked the front door. I walked in and left my bags in the hallway. As I passed through the living room, I looked at the large portrait that my mother had done of my father that hung over the fireplace. Dad had passed away three years ago, and we will always miss him.

I went to the back of the house looking for my mother. She is usually in one of two places during the day: her gardens or studio. I found her in her studio.

The very pretty blond female model with an athletic build wearing nothing but a thong dropped the broomstick prop she held at a menacing angle, let out a screech, and quickly covered herself with a terrycloth robe.

Mom put down her pallet and brushes and opened her arms for a hug, “Arthur dear, I did not expect you so early.”

I hugged my mother. “I drove straight through.”

I have seen my mother work with a model many times. So, my intrusion was not a surprise or concern for my mother. Art was her work, and as far as I was concerned, the models my mother hired were only doing a job.

Mom proceeded to do the introductions to her wide-eyed model. “Karen dear, this is my son Arthur. Arthur, this is Karen Tillman, a very nice girl and a wonderful model. You should take her to dinner sometime.” I waved and smiled at Karen as she stared at me in disbelief that I had walked in on her when she was practically naked and my mother was calmly trying to set us up.

I kissed my mother on the cheek. “Another fantasy book cover?”

“Actually, it’s a video game. ‘Queen of the Hunt’ A lot more commissions are coming from that market sector than book publishers now. It’s sad, but what are you going to do?” Mom turned to Karen, “That will be all for today, Karen. Tomorrow at 2:00 if that’s agreeable. The light should be just right at that time of day.”

“Two o’clock will be fine, Mrs. Taylor-Williams.” Karen fast-walked to the dressing room, holding her robe tightly around herself.

Mom chuckled, “A little shy, but perfect for this illustration. Let me clean these brushes, and then we can get you settled in. It’s good to have you home again.”

Getting settled in consisted of removing the sheets that covered the furniture in my bedroom and making the bed. I hung my suit, pants, and shirts in the closet and put my toiletries in my private bath. I put my shoes in the shoe rack. Underwear, casual shirts and jerseys went in the dresser.

Driving straight through had taken its toll. I begged off having a bite to eat and took a much-needed nap. Mom could see I was a bit fatigued and left me to rest. I caught a couple hours of much-needed sleep and then went to the studio looking for my mother. She was not about, so I decided to see what my mother had created while I was at Georgetown University.

I always loved browsing in my mother’s studio. My DNA did not have one ounce of my mother’s artistic abilities, so I was always fascinated by her sketches, drawings, and paintings. As a kid, I hung her preliminary sketches of warrior maidens and the barbarian heroes she let me have on my bedroom wall. I still have quite a collection tucked away in my closet.

I took a 20” x 26” folder off the shelf with a red ribbon tied in a bow to keep it closed. When I opened it, my eyebrows lifted slightly as my eyes opened wide. The first charcoal illustration was of a woman performing oral sex on a rather large cock. There was no mistaking that it was my mother’s work.

I turned the sheets slowly, admiring the graphics detail suggested with a minimum of lines and shading that enhanced the eroticism of each illustration. There were illustrations of women having sex in multiple positions. Women masturbating men. Men performing oral sex on women. One of a woman tied to a bed performing oral sex on one man while another man prepared to have intercourse with her. A woman on her knees performing oral sex while she masturbated another man. Interspersed with heterosexual illustrations were lesbian illustrations. Women with their legs entwined, touching, kissing, performing oral sex, and masturbating.

The rendering of the genitalia and the torso were the most detailed and refined. Other body parts, such as arms and legs, became less defined depending on their importance to the central sex act. Faces hidden by a hand, turned to the side, sketchy, or covered by hair. But there was no doubt in my mind who the woman in the illustrations represented.

I was down to the last few illustrations when I felt a hand on my arm. I had not even heard my mother come up behind me.

My mother calmly instructed me, “Could you close that, please?”

I turned to my mother as I closed the folder. “That’s quite a collection of erotic art.”

“I had not intended for you to see those.” My mother was not overly embarrassed that I had found the illustrations. She was letting me know what I had stumbled across was private.