Chapter 25

Oh, God, I'm in love, I thought.

Who? Nicole asked.

Not who, what! I'm looking at the most sensuous piece of sculpture I've ever seen.

Oh.

Josh chuckled. Tell us about it.

In a minute. I rushed through the gallery, glancing quickly at each of the ten sculptures displayed. I can't make up my mind. I want all of them.

Are any of them suitable for our project in Vegas? Nicole asked. We need a large sculpture for the lobby.

With that limitation, I studied the magnificent sculptures, moving from one piece to the next.

One would be perfect, Nicole. It's about ten feet tall, principally carved from carrera marble, but the sculptor has integrated black slate with the white marble. Some of the marble is polished, and some left in a rough state. Likewise with the black slate. The integration is so seamless, the pieces appear to be carved out of one block of stone, and he's introduced some small splashes of color. No, a splash isn't correct terminology. The reds and greens and blues he uses are studied, carefully crafted forms. I think he's used other marble for the color, but in pieces put together like a mosaic and then polished to make the color look solid rather than variegated. The large sculpture has a round green form tucked in amid the black and white.

Buy it, Nicole said.

I chuckled. Six months ago she would've asked the price first. All right, I said. I'll also want one for my home and another for my museum. Josh and Nicole knew because they read my thoughts. A while back, I'd decided to start a new section for my museum that displayed important objects connected with descendents from my past lives that I connected with in this life. I'd started with objects I related to Andy and Liz, some casual sketches each of them created, throw away pieces, really, but they represented poignant moments. I also included Andy's preliminary drawings for the compound, and some design boards Liz put together for the Las Vegas project. A Soren Thorsen sculpture would make an excellent addition to my museum.

I walked the gallery yet again, and finally stopped in front of a smaller piece. My next thoughts weren't meant to be conversational.

Josh laughed. If what you thought is accurate, if you don't buy it, I will.

Does it truly look like my pussy? Nicole asked.

Yeah, but elongated and with no outer lips, I replied. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were the sculptor's model. He's captured your clitoral hood and shiny clit, but the hood is rough black slate and the clit is polished white marble. The colored form is a deep red and is integrated along the sinuous edge of what I'd call an inner lip. I'll buy this one for our party room.

Good plan, Josh said with another laugh.

I selected the first piece I saw when I entered the gallery for my museum and went in search of Liz, locating her talking with two young men, one was beautiful in face and form, the other uglier than a mud-wall fence.

"There you are, Sandy. I want you to meet the sculptor, Soren Thorsen. Mr. Thorsen, this is my friend, Sandy Joshnson."

I shook his large, callused hand. "I love your work, Mr. Thorsen."

"Please call me Soren," he said, his English heavily accented. He introduced me to his friend, Antonio DeMarco, explaining that DeMarco's sister was his fiancée. I didn't shake Antonio DeMarco's hand, probably because he didn't offer his.

Thorsen's appearance surprised me. Seeing his art before meeting him had given me erroneous, pre-conceived ideas about how Thorsen should look. Instead of an attractive, sensitive man, a huge, male brute stood before me. I'd read somewhere that the more symmetrical the features of a person's face, the more attractive that person would be. If that were true, and I suspected it was less than half-true, then Thorsen had to be the homeliest man alive. None of his features lined up properly.

When I told him I wanted to purchase three of his sculptures, he smiled, and homely became... well, not so homely. The smile lines around his eyes deepened, and his mouth twisted from out of alignment to a gash that lined up straight across his crooked face. His teeth were large and white, and I felt his... gentleness.

Should I scan him, Josh? I asked silently. Since our fiasco in Vegas with Garnet, we'd all been careful with our probes.

I just did, not deeply, though. Go ahead.

Yes, I thought a minute later, finally understanding. A woman could love this man. I also understood how he could create such sensuous pieces of sculpture. He's a gentle giant, I told Josh and Nicole.

"Which pieces, Sandy?" Liz asked. "I'll negotiate with the gallery owner. With a volume purchase you should get a discount."

I walked away with Liz and pointed out the sculptures I wanted. "Deliver the large piece to our project in Las Vegas, and the other two to my home in the compound."

She nodded and scurried away to do her thing with the gallery owner.

In my absence, Thorsen had become busy with another patron, and his friend looked at loose ends. I chuckled when I realized DeMarco looked like my pre-conceived notion of the way Thorsen should look - a sensitive, attractive man.

No, don't scan him, Josh said, answering my silent query. He has a secret that could divulge your secret. Whatever you do, don't let him touch you.

Explain, I said and turned away from Mr. DeMarco.

He's an adept at retrognition, which is a form of clairvoyance. He sees into the past not the future. Whether he's truly adept is yet to be determined, but he believes he can see into a person's past with a touch, so I suggest you assume he can do just that until we can prove otherwise.

That's scary, I said.

"You picked my favorite," a deep voice said behind me. The accent was Italian, not Danish.

I spun and faced Antonio DeMarco, and then took a step back. He was standing too close for comfort.

"Oh, which one?" I asked.

He pointed at the sculpture Liz was negotiating to purchase for the TRES party room. "Privately, Soren calls it Arousal. The brochure lists it as Provocative."

I smiled. "It's both."

Dammit, Josh, I want this man's hands on me!

Careful, Sandy, Nicole advised.

I chuckled. I hear you, but I gotta tell ya, DeMarco makes my heart go pity-pat. He's got the look of a man of the world about him. Dig a little deeper, Josh. Find out if he's an ax murderer or something equally off-putting.

"Mr. Thorsen mentioned that he was engaged to your sister," I said.

"Yes, Regina, my baby sister. That Soren and Regina found love answered my prayers."

His sister was born with a cleft lip and palate. Not all the operations were successful, and she still has a speech defect, Josh told me. According to DeMarco, she's also the sweetest person alive. He loves her deeply.

Argh. I ask for ax mayhem, and get compassion and love.

Nicole's laugh came through loud and clear.

He mentioned prayers. Is he a nut about religion? I asked. If he were a religious fanatic I'd back off lickety-split.

Being Italian, he was raised as a Catholic, but... no, he's lapsed and not feeling guilty about it. The prayer comment was just that - an expression. Probing him is difficult for me, Sandy. He thinks in Italian, so telepathy is useless, and translating his attitudes is a chore.

I speak Italian, or at least the Italian spoken in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. Do you honestly think my probes would let him look into my past?

No, but it's a remote possibility. It's your call, Sandy.

I sent out a soft tendril and brushed his mind, jerking it back and immediately throwing up a shield.

Nicole laughed again. He's not a telepath or empath, Sandy.

Hah! He might not have touched me, but I touched him with a tendril from my mind.

Oh, okay, you have a point. Try again.

I lowered my shield and probed a little deeper. He doesn't sense my scan, I said. Hmm, he wants to touch me, but... oh, Josh, Nicole, he's so lonely! He rarely touches anyone, and never a stranger. He considers his gift a curse.

As I did with mine for a while, Josh said, which probably means he's been hurt emotionally.

Like I hurt you? I said.

Yes. Using myself as a guide, I'd say DeMarco's emotional pain happened in the not too distant past. Unless he's too scarred from the ordeal, his gift will become a blessing again. Time heals.

Yup, you called it, Josh. There she is, the bitch! He loved her, and she called him a freak!

Liz returned with a smile on her pretty face, which meant she took the gallery owner to the mat in the wrestling match called negotiation.

She nodded at me and said, "We did all right." She handed me a slip of paper. "To keep the accounting straight, you'll need to write two checks, one for the large piece, and the other for the two sculptures for the compound."

I'd need to write three checks. The trust for the museum would reimburse me for the sculpture I'd selected for the museum, but Liz had no need to know about my museum. I glanced at the note. She'd written two numbers. "Do these numbers include shipping?" I was surprised at the amounts. They seemed way too low.

"No. We'll need to arrange to have the pieces crated and shipped."

"Is that usual?"

"No, but Bruce was adamant. I think he's been burned on shipping in the past."

I turned to DeMarco. "Is this Soren's first one-man show?"

"No, his third, but the first in the United States. Why?"

I chuckled. "His prices are too low?"

"The gallery owner set the prices," Liz said.

"Then he's in the wrong business."

"How low?" DeMarco asked.

"I don't know. I do know I expected to pay twice the amount I'll pay."

Fire entered DeMarco's eyes. "Excuse me, please." He walked away. I stayed connected with him, and also watched him until he was out of sight. I sighed.

Liz shivered, a dramatic purposeful body expression, and then she flashed a teasing smile. "I know what you mean. He turns me on, too."

I laughed gaily. "What are you? A mind reader?"

"Hah! It doesn't take a mind reader to see how he affects you."

It helps, though, Nicole said. Good gracious, Sandy, your pussy feels like mush, which makes mine creamy, too. Josh, I might need some attention soon.

Josh laughed.

I ignored my husband and wife and listened to DeMarco talk with someone - the gallery owner, I deduced. I couldn't hear the gallery owner's response because I wasn't connected with him, but I could listen to DeMarco's side of the conversation.

"No, don't kill the deal with the Johnson woman. You made a deal with her representative, and you'll honor that deal. Put a sold sign on those pieces and double the asking price on the unsold sculptures... Just do it, Bruce, or Soren's next one-man show in the United States won't be in this gallery."

DeMarco's thoughts told me that he'd advise Soren to show his work in a different gallery anyway.

Good for you, Antonio, I thought.

Oh, oh, Josh. We're in trouble, Nicole commented. Sandy just switched from using DeMarco's last name to his first.

Don't tease, I said. Josh, I want to invite Soren and Antonio to join Liz and me for lunch tomorrow. Waddaya think?

He's not an evil man, far from one, but you'll risk not only divulging your secret but also Nicole's and mine.

How so?

If he sees your past in this life, he'll see our TRES and the paranormal elements involved.

Oh. Okay, I'll back off.

Uh-uh, Nicole said. Go for it. He's at risk, too.

Nicole's right, Josh said. This is your call, Sandy. If you want to pursue a possible relationship with this man, Nicole and I will support you regardless of what happens, but I'd suggest moving slowly.

I debated with myself whether to walk away from Antonio and never look back or invite him to lunch to determine if there was anything worth pursuing beyond the attraction we felt for each other.

Antonio joined Liz and me, with Soren in tow.

I extended the invitation. They accepted. Liz grinned.

I maintained my connections with Soren and Antonio, ratcheting down the strength of the connections until their thoughts became background noise, and then made a mental note to listen for some key words that would automatically strengthen the connections - a technique Nicole taught me.

Thanks, Nicole.

You're welcome.

She didn't ask why I thanked her because, in addition to hearing my thoughts, she was also translating my attitudes.

Liz chuckled. "Who's my date for lunch, the Italian stallion or Quasi Motto?"

"Be nice. Soren is a gentle giant. If you let him, he'll cuddle your heart."

She raised an eyebrow. "And how, pray tell, would you know something like that about him?"

Oops, I thought.

Tell her you're psychic, Josh said. That'll shut her up.

"Because I'm psychic," I said with a teasing grin.

And she's not the only one, either, Liz thought. I swear I think Josh and Nicole hear my thoughts half the time.

That's insulting, Nicole said. I hear her thoughts most of the time.

As background noise, maybe, Josh countered.

My connections to Soren and Antonio slipped up from background to foreground.

I heard Soren say, "Miss Johnson is a nice lady. Did you touch her?"

"No!" Antonia exclaimed.

The big man's low rumbling laugh resonated in my mind. "Why not? I know you're interested in her, attracted to her. Aren't you interested enough to look into her past?" Soren laughed again. "Or is it more? Are you so taken with her that you fear what you'll find on the journey back in time?"