I was lucky enough to be chosen to contribute to an exhibition of sports art sponsored by a middle-eastern oil company, and one of the perks: I’d be working with a top-notch model, Jamie. An additional perk, we’d be staying at a posh hotel. The view from the suite was spectacular.

Jamie was a bit nonplused by the outfit she was supposed to be wearing. “Can this really be suitable for volleyball?” she asked.

I wasn’t sure whether it would be suitable for any “usual” sport, but I said, “We must endeavor to make the best of it.”

Jamie smiled at my words, and then we both burst out laughing.

“And what about this volleyball?” she said. “Kind of a peculiar color, wouldn’t you say?”

I nodded. “Pussy pink.”

“Right,” Jamie said.

“Cunt pink,” I amended.

“Definitely,” Jamie agreed.

Jamie bobbled the cunt pink ball, and it fell to the floor and bounced back up into her hands.

“Nice catch,” I said. “Good thing it wasn’t a baby.”

“Good thing,” Jamie agreed. She was holding the ball snugly against her belly, which might have been what led to my comment. That gave me an idea.

“Can you let the ball fall again, but not all at once? Let it slowly slip out of your hands.”

Jamie released the ball.

Yes, that was just what I was looking for.

“So should we get over to the beach?” Jamie asked.

“No need for that,” I said. “And anyway, with the politics here you’d be arrested before you got out of the elevator.

I took a few photographs for reference, and then we spent the rest of the day and most of the night making love.

I think my painting deserved more than an honorable mention. Maybe it was a bit too surreal.