Kofi Fosu Forson
Friday night at the Chelsea scrawl...It's always that something in the air. The usual suspects fold into the gallery...circumspect, incriminating, gorgeous...gallant.
Art crowds at night are bejeweled, the lack-lustred temptation to score, none of which figures into the potentiality of buying art, leaving one to wonder is it ever safe to offer free wine or champagne...
In walks a tall brunette, elegant...damaged. She's sophisticated by means of body language. Her confidence is becoming of a person with charm. Among those gathered she seems wanting, approachable, careless to the painting on the wall, drinking red wine from a glass.
A gentleman stands northwest of her, unaffected by anyone or anything. She walks up to him commenting on a glassed sculpture at his side. He engages her, switching to the topic of wine. Unfortunately he has to make do with white wine. This becomes somewhat of a mockery as he is bent on red. They both find humor in this, laughing and chiming glasses.
She is married and recently gave birth, a nine-month old daughter. Her husband is Swedish. Keeping a distance from those gathered the two strangers fill each other in on their personal lives. He's more or less a free agent speculating on the various women walking around. Somehow she engages him on who she thinks would be good for him, not as wife but lover. In turn he wonders about her life as married woman.
As married couple she and her husband met at a restaurant. He was the only European standing among many men, cavorting, drinking beer. She wanted him immediately. There was no doubt in her mind she had to have him. The process began when she introduced herself. They slept together that night, months later they married.
The woman presents the gentleman with a business card, wrapping herself around him with a kiss on the cheek. She makes her way out of the gallery. He barely looks at the card avoiding people as he inspects for the final time paintings on the wall.
Outside the gallery he notices the woman standing by a parked car. She walks up to him wondering if he wants to spend the night. He thinks it strange. He rejects her offer saying he's expecting a delivery later on in the evening. She's quick to oblige him with anything he needs, stressing she has many good contacts.
He is stupefied. The woman has the world in her eyes. He can't say no however much he desired.
She kisses him on the mouth, moist and full. They hug. He grabs her derriere with both hands, filling them with his fingers. A man taps him on the shoulder. The gentleman turns around. She introduces the man as her husband.
The car-ride to their apartment was filled with light conversations. He owns a bar. She's a grade school teacher. They had come to the gallery with hopes of finding a lover for the evening. The woman found the gentleman attractive, not so much his physique. They wanted an artist, someone with passion and insight. Talking to him she knew he was exactly what she wanted, a man who would more than fuck her, rather seduce her into forgetting her married life.
The husband plays bartender offering wine glasses. He pours into each glass sitting across from them. It is almost clear that he is content on watching his wife flirt with the gentleman. She is sitting very close to him rubbing his knee. The husband looks on drinking from a mug. He obliges the gentleman to touch her. The gentleman places the wine glass on a table inserting his hand into the woman's bra. He lifts up her breast, sucking in a heated hunger. Carefully taking off the blouse while he awaits the other breast, she steals a look at her husband, smiling. He sits watching them, drinking from the mug.
The woman is nude lying across on the sofa. The gentleman partially clothed, spreads her open eating her vaginal cavity, pressing his lips, tongue exposed, against her clitoris, slurping, tasting, licking. He moves up to her breasts sucking on the nipples, positioning his body flat on top of her. Raising his head to look her in the eyes, they kiss. Her husband interrupts them suggesting they move into the bedroom.
On the bed the gentleman is totally naked. She edges up to his erect cock jerking it up and down, finally putting it in her mouth, sucking with pleasure while the gentleman attempts to finger her anal cavity. He falls back while the woman continues to suck him. The husband walks around the room unconcerned.
The woman inserts his cock in her cunt, gyrating, bouncing off his pelvis. It grows in intensity. She starts to utter unintelligibly as the sound of their bodies crashing into each other makes a thumping noise. She has her first orgasm, arching her back, looking terrified yet amazed.
With her legs in the air, he grips her by the ankles, fucking steadily and precise, looking her in the eye, maintaining his rhythm, her breasts bouncing. He falls on her, fucking her in the missionary, damning, as if with fury. She has another orgasm. He pulls out of her. She jerks him off with anger, gripping and pulling, over and over until he cums on her face. She wipes off the cum, embarrassed and exasperated.
The husband walks into the room while the gentleman is putting on his clothes. They barely speak. The gentleman walks into the living room. He looks at the husband. He opens the door to the apartment. The gentleman walks out. The door closes behind.
He stands there, somehow naked to the world, not wanting to leave, not wanting to stay. He runs uncontrollably down the stairs into the streets, never looking back.