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    Art of Love – Chpt 16

    Story written on November 6, 2006 by zheese.
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    5 votes, average: 2.00 out of 55 votes, average: 2.00 out of 55 votes, average: 2.00 out of 55 votes, average: 2.00 out of 55 votes, average: 2.00 out of 5 (5 votes, average: 2.00 out of 5)
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    Number of Comments: 13
    Words: 2556
    Story Shortlink: https://lesfan.com/?p=63131
    Author Notes:

    A little levity

    Previously

    “I would never do that, Sweetheart. I could never let your painting go,” I said.

    “You did artfully trick the Senator though,” Helena said admiringly. “I wish you could have seen it, Mummy.”

    “Bravo, Bette. Bravo,” Mummy said with delight, turning to look at us as she walked. “So what did you do when she propositioned you two?”

    “How did you know that, Mummy? I didn’t tell you that part of the story,” Helena replied.

    Peggy laughed.

    “Helena, Darling, haven’t you yet figured out that I know everything?”

    “Well, then, why didn’t she at least wait until you were out of the house? I thought that was rather bold, disrespectful and rude,” Helena remarked offhandedly.

    “My Dear, you should know barracudas have no manners and don’t wait for Mummies to leave.”

    Chapter 16

    When Mummy’s visit concluded and we’d appropriately seen her off, Bette offered to perform the evening’s clean-up chores in the dining room and kitchen.

    She’d patted my behind and sweetly insisted I go relax for awhile.

    I poured myself a cognac in a snifter and wandered upstairs to my studio. I wasn’t experiencing the desire or the inspiration to paint. But somehow I was drawn to that room. It indeed had become my ‘sanctuary,’ as Bette called it.

    Taking my time, I stood, in turn, before every finished painting that hung on the wall and regarded each one of them. They made me smile. Because they reminded me of Bette. And how much I loved her. And how happy she’d made me. I caressed my fingertips over the surface of each canvas as I moved down the line of work, sipping my cognac.

    Having sufficiently contemplated the fourth and final composition, I found myself missing the bliss of being held in Bette’s arms. I hurried downstairs to ready myself for bed, knowing Bette would soon be completing her volunteer cleaning duties.

    As I descended the steps, I felt an inspiration overtake me.

    I poked my head in the kitchen on the way to the master bath.

    “Darling, are you almost done?” I asked, smiling.

    Bette looked up from the dishwasher, where she was bent over placing the dinner plates on the lower rack. She smiled back at me.

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    Comments

    3. Can i get a heros reward too, pretty please? OK zheese, way to get me all hot and bothered but now it’s time for the foolow through–so get to typing. Thanks!

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