The room is quiet aside from the sound of the fluorescent lamps. Lena’s shoulders droop for a moment. “I haven’t used that name in a while. How did you know?”
Ken points to a covered couch. “Can we sit, if we are going to talk?”
She nods and removes her paint smock, hanging it on a hook near the canvas she was working on. She is still wearing the same plain looking dress from earlier. Ken stands by the couch and waits for her to sit before he does.
“So, Mister Cooper, how did you know and who are you working for?” She asks in an almost resigned tone.
“I’m employed, as I said earlier, by a wealthy man who wishes to purchase some of your artwork. But as you know, there are people claiming to be someone they are not and sometimes selling other people’s work. I was hired to make sure that ‘Charles Pauline’ was real and not some sort of conman…..He’s fake but you are real.”
She slowly nods. “Ok. So, what are you going to do with this information? Sell it, extort something from me? Try to use it to control me?”
Ken goes almost wide-eyed with the accusations. “No. You misunderstand. I won’t do anything with it. But if you explain to me, why the deception, I will tell my employer that Charles Pauline is an artist worth investing in.”
She leans back in the couch for a moment, her small frame looking as if it was about to be swallowed by it. She notices the cigarette pack in his pocket. “Puis-je avoir une cigarette?” Her voice sounding soft and almost lost. He pulls out the pack and hands her one, then flips open the Zippo. She slowly inhales and then coughs, before leaning forward and inhaling again. This time she slowly exhales a small cloud. “You know you Americans got me smoking again. After the camps.”
He lights himself one. “So, the last article I could find on you was in May of 1936. What happened to you after that?”
She explains that she went to Spain to fight with the Republicans, then fled to Paris. When the Nazi invaded, she and her lover Angelique were arrested as communists, and forced into the labor camps, where Angelique died.
Ken finishes his cigarette. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I suspected it because of your art. But I’m sorry for what you endured.”
She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “Damn you for making me remember her. Damn me for thinking I could forget her and replace her with Isabeau.”
Ken lets her sit in silence for a moment, the smell of burning tobacco, and paint, mix with the sound of the lights. Then he breaks the silence “So why have Charles be the figurehead?”
She goes into detail how, after the camps she was helped by the Refugee Agencies, where she met ‘Isabeau’ and ‘Charles’ who were aid workers. She needed to paint but didn’t want the spotlight or fame. Charles and Isabeau agreed to help her.
“What are their real names?” Ken asks quietly.
She slowly shakes her head, “It doesn’t matter, because they are now Charles Pauline and Isabeau Herrera. The painter and his model.”
“And you are just Lena, their assistant.” Ken nods. He then stands up. “Ok. I’ll tell Mister Huddler to buy whichever paintings you will sell him. He’s a good man, and I won’t tell your secrets.”
She stands up, drops the cigarette and puts it out on the concrete floor. “Ok, Mister Cooper. Do you wish to model for me?”
Ken nervously swallows. “I’m not really one to get naked and be ordered about. But I will help however I can, being I interrupted your work.”
“Bien. Which paintings does your employer want copies of?” She asks as she walks over and puts the smock back on.
“He really liked ‘Circumcised Banana’ and thought about buying ‘Vulva on the Half-Shell, with Clitoris’ for his wife.” Ken says as he removes his necktie, and shirt.
“Interessante. Ok, reproducing copies of those is not difficult. I am satisfied with my models, though….” She says as she pauses and looks at Ken’s crotch. “Pull down your trousers. I wish to see your penis.”
Ken does as she asks, but he is still soft as he holds it.
“Remove your shorts and sit on the couch.” She says in a more commanding tone. She picks up her palette and brush and moves to a blank canvas. “Now slowly stroke it. Move the foreskin up and down.”
At that point Isabeau and Charles return, carrying a bottle of wine and a few glasses. “Lena, I thought you might be thirsty. And….Oh.” Isabeau stops for a moment. “Is he tonight’s model?”
Lena sets the palette down, and pours a glass of wine, then gives it to Ken. “Drink a bit, see if it helps you relax.” She then pours a glass for herself, sips it and sets it by the palette. “Isabeau, can you sit on the chair, and masturbate? I think it will help excite Mister Cooper.”
Charles takes a sip of his wine and leans against a crate, just watching and keeping out of Lena’s field of view.
Ken watches as Isabeau sits, opens her robe, spreads her legs, and slowly rubs herself. He watches as the light catches her opening lips, as she moves her fingers up and down. Her palm resting on the trimmed dark pubic patch. Ken licks his lips. He understands why Charles was so happy to be licking her. Her pussy looks so tasty.
He hears Lena say softly. “Bien, look at the color…. Nicely shaped tip.”
Ken glances at Lena. “Non!. Focus on Isabeau. Keep stroking” He focuses on Isabeau as she also now plays with her beautifully hard nipples. “Magnifique.”
He continues to stroke the same tempo that she moves her fingers. She then parts her lips and works two fingers in and out. He hears her breathing as she closes her eyes and fantasizes about some lover. Ken’s cock is so hard now, and he feels the slickness of his precum. Isabeau’s face goes flush and her thighs close around her hand as she moan loudly. Ken shoots his load all over his hand. “Bien, Magnifique.” He hears her say.
Charles walks over and hands Ken a towel. As he wipes himself off, Ken glances at the painting. The sides of the banana skinned penis have semen dripping down it. There are outlines on the foreskin banana for something to be dripping down it too.
Isabeau stands and covers up again, then slowly walks to Lena. “Do you need me to stay, mi amor?” Lena turns and kisses her on the lips. “Non. I have work to do. You and Charles gave me enough for the earlier one, and now you and Mister Cooper have given me what I want.”
Ken looks at her. “Is there anything else?”
Lena turns, “Non, we are done. I might title it ‘Banana with Cream’ ”. She says with a wicked smile.
The next day the sky is cloudy as a cold weather front moves through. Ken has the windows open but didn’t cancel the day’s ice. “You never know how the weather can change.” He explains to the delivery guy.
Joan comes in, in a happy mood. “Well I didn’t have to bail you out last night, and apparently Pete teaching the band his mouth exercises have helped keep some of the band member’s girlfriends and wives very happy. Though the drummer keeps protesting.”
Ken pours his second cup of coffee and smiles. “And because Pete’s happy, you’re happy.”
“You know it, Boss. So how did it go?”
He sits back down. “It went okay. I’ll call Teddy in a bit and tell him to buy whatever he wants.”
She fills her cup too. “So you figured out what was bugging you?”
Ken sighs for a moment. He could tell Joan the truth, but she’s the biggest gossip in the building. He could say nothing, but she’d keep bugging him until she got an answer, so he decides to do what he does fairly well, give her a half-truth and hide the rest. “Charles works with both Isabeau and Lena to make the paintings. It is a collaborative effort. Together they draw inspiration from each other.”
Joan sits down, her skirt riding up showing a mouth-shaped bruise in the inside of her thigh. “So which one was in the camps?” She asks.
“Lena. She was a communist, arrested, and put in a labor camp for the war.”
The light in Joan’s eyes goes out as she pictures the frail brunette as a prisoner in one of the paintings. “Is she gonna be okay?”
Ken smiles, “Yes. She’s going to be fine. That’s why she works with Charles and Isabeau. They help each other.”
“Do you need me to get today’s paper?” she asks after a few minutes.
“Sure. Tell Pop, “Hi” and remind him he can come up for a cup of coffee anytime he wants.”
She grabs her purse, “Ok. Be back in a minute.”
While she’s gone, Ken picks up the phone and calls Theodore’s direct line. They talk for a bit as Ken tells the same story he just told Joan. “Yes the artist is real, but it is just more of a collaborative effort than one man. Buy what you want.”
“Thank you. You will get your monthly retainer and a bonus.” Theodore then hangs up.
Joan comes back up with the paper, and half a pack of camels. “Pop said that his wife found the open pack. You paid for them so they’re yours. I didn’t think you liked Camels Boss.”
He takes them from her and puts them in the desk drawer.
A few days later, as Ken is in the office, reading in the paper about “M. Charles Pauline and associates are leaving the city for their next stop in their tour of North America.” He hears a knock on the door and Joan answers it. He hears a familiar voice say “I have a delivery for Mister Cooper, courtesy of Mister Huddler.”
Ken gets up from his desk, telling Ramon to bring it in there. Ramon carries in a large flat package wrapped in brown paper, secured with twine. Once it is flat, Ken cuts the string. As they unwrap it, there are two paintings and a note.
“Mister Cooper, as we agreed here is the bonus you requested. Monsieur Pauline said there was a second painting that you were to have too. It is an interesting piece, more to my tastes than yours but I was told it is a gift for you. T. Huddler”
He folds the note and looks at the paintings. The first is the lamp with the fish for a light. Ken smiles at it. On the back it says #22 of 50.
He gives it to Joan but she is looking at the other one as she gasps and Ramon comments “Oh My.”
Ken looks at what is obviously his erection, with jism dripping along the sides, facing a banana with chocolate sauce dripping in the same pattern. On the back is written “Banana Crème” #2 of 10.
“Ramon, did Mister Huddler see this one?” Ken asks.
He smiles, “I assume he did. He was in the back with them as they wrapped them up. I stayed in the gallery. It is a very nice piece. Almost nicer than “Circumcised Banana”. This would look amazing next to it.”
While Joan hangs the first painting, Ramon takes a thick envelope from his jacket and places it on the desk. “This is for you too. Mister Huddler said it is your retainer and a little something extra. He told me it was ‘fraud insurance’.”
Ken pockets the envelope without even opening it. “Thank him for me, Ramon. Is there anything else?”
He notices that Ramon slowly licks his lips as he looks at the painting. “No. But it is a very nice piece. I hope you enjoy it.” He then turns and leaves.
Joan returns to Ken’s office. “Gee, Boss, that looks a little like yours.” She says with a wink and a smile. “Any idea where you’re going to hang it?”
He wraps it up in brown paper. “I’ll take it back to my apartment and find somewhere for it.” He reaches into his pocket for the envelope, “Here, count it and take it to the bank.”
She finishes counting it and puts it in her purse. “That’s a nice bonus we got.”
Ken sits back down at his desk, picks up the newspaper, then glances at the wrapped painting. “Yes it is.”
(I hope you enjoyed “Checking out the Surrealist”. If you enjoy this; Leave me a Comment. If you enjoy my writings follow and subscribe. Come back next Friday for a new story. Be Seeing you….)
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