Picture Perfect (2 page)

“For sure,” Kim agreed, still looking at the drawing. “Is that really me?”

“Of course not,” Roger said, steering her towards the door. “The
real
you is much more beautiful than can be rendered by mere charcoal lines. I want to capture your inner
fire
as well. That’s what the
next
session will be all about. Now, go home and rest that lovely self of yours. We don’t want dark rings under the eyes, now
do
we? It’d spoil everything.”

Chapter 3.

-
My
turn at the controls, I believe.

- Why?

- Um, I’m not sure really. I have this gut feeling, that’s all.

- Oh, so now you’re psychic?

- I
could
be. I’ve never been tested.

-Yes, I’d say that
some
sort of a test is long overdue.

- Do I detect a hint of sarcasm there?

- Just a
hint
? My word, you
are
psychic!

- Shut up.

Paul refused to accompany me to the next session, saying that the whole procedure sent him to sleep. I couldn’t blame him. It must have been absolutely mind-numbing for him to sit there for hours with nothing to do. When I was in the middle of the meditation thing, I was totally
out
of it and only vaguely aware of my surroundings. I wasn’t quite sleeping but also wasn’t exactly focused in this reality either. It was sort of a dreamlike state and very peaceful. I should really be doing it more often because it was so relaxing, and here I was being
paid
to do it.

We had two sittings that day and Roger began to actually paint the portrait in the second one. I was still surprised at my likeness as shown on the canvas. Normally I wasn’t a fussy person. I barely even looked in a
mirror
. Paul often said that I was the least vain of any woman he’d ever known, and I suppose I didn’t care overmuch about my appearance. Well, I mean, I did all the usual cosmetic things that
everybody
does – hair brushing, face cleansing and all that sort of thing – but never went much beyond that. I was lucky to have been born with nice skin that didn’t take much looking after, so I generally ignored that side of things.

At the end of the day, Roger showed me his work to date. Once again, I was startled by what I saw. It was me. I know it was, but a totally
different
me to the person I recognised in the mirror. The
painted
me was somehow……. afire with a restless energy. I could almost
feel
the emotional depth; the questing urge for action portrayed in the eyes and the slight clenching of the fingers. I must have stood there, staring for at least ten minutes or more, until Roger gently coughed and awoke me from my reverie.

“Well, my dear, what do you think of it
so
far?” he asked.

“Roger, it's breathtaking,” I declared fervently, still looking at the painting. “I don't know
how
you did it, but you've captured the inner self. It's almost as if you've stripped my soul bare.”

“Ah, yes,……
speaking
of that,” Roger murmured self-consciously, “I was wondering if perhaps you wouldn't mind being
painted
that way.”

I looked up at him in mild astonishment. “You mean, without any
clothes
?”

“
Exactly
,” he said, shuffling his feet a little. “It's not something I ask all of my models to do and it's
entirely
voluntary. Most of them don't mind because it simply part of the job, but you're new to this and not a professional. I hope you’re not offended by my suggestion.”

“No, not at all,” I reassured him. I wasn’t offended in the slightest. My earlier days as a flower-power hippie girl in a ‘free love’ commune had robbed me of any bashfulness. But I was a little surprised that
Roger
would ask me to pose nude
this
early in our relationship. Did he have some
other
agenda in mind? He was looking at me, still patiently waiting for my answer.

“Can I
think
about it first?” I hedged.

“Of
course
you can, my dear,” he told me. “I know it’s a big step when you’re not used to it. I’ll understand fully if you don’t want to. There are other paintings we can do. It’s just that having you ‘
au naturel
’ opens up your vulnerable side and will give us a much larger option of scenarios. And besides, you have an absolutely
stunning
figure. I want the whole
world
to admire the sheer beauty of it. Go home and give it some thought.”

As I said before, posing nude didn't present any problems for me. The main hurdle I had to overcome was telling
Paul
about it because I wasn't quite sure how he'd react. He was always protective of me and, if he vigorously objected, I probably wouldn’t go ahead with it. I owed him
that
much. It was a major dread in my life – that I’d end up by disappointing him in some way.

“You're going to……
what
?” he exclaimed, when I finally summoned the courage to tell him.

“Take it easy,” I advised. “It's not the end of the world. I haven’t said ‘yes’ as yet.”

He took a few deep breaths and calmed himself. “Sorry,” he apologised. “You just caught me by surprise.” He paused, looking at me intently. “Are you sure you want to
do
this, Kim?”

I shrugged. “You know that this sort of thing doesn't bother me,” I informed him. “I'm more concerned about
your
reaction. I won't do it if you really,
really
don't want me to.”

Paul spread his hands in acknowledged defeat. “I can't say that I'd be jumping with joy if you went ahead but, sweetie, it's
your
life and, as I’ve said before, you’re a big girl now who can make her own decisions. I'm certainly not going to make a scene about you doing something that I know you want to do. Just don't expect me to be present at the picture’s unveiling. Viewing your naked sister immortalised on canvas isn't high on my list of priorities.”

I grinned. “I can understand that, and we won't invite you around when the picture is finished. I don't know what Simon intends to do with it once it's over, but I'll try to ensure that you never get to see it.”

“See that you do,” Paul warned me.

Chapter 4.

That night I had a dream of being back in my hippie commune. In those days, I was barely
twenty
, new to free love, shy and totally naïve. Most of the commune were
true
hippies – gentle, loving and at one with Nature, but a few turned out to be opportunists – greedy, corrupt and morally vile and, as a timid newcomer, I was easy prey for them. Under the pretence of putting me in contact with a past life, a hypnotist among the group implanted false memories and persuaded me that we’d been lovers in a previous existence. I became confused and easily tricked into an abusive relationship with him. It was a sad period in my life that left deep scars on my soul. Imagine being surrounded by happy, loving people that you longed to join but
couldn’t
, because
your
world consisted of physical, sexual and spiritual humiliation from which you didn’t know how to escape. This predator had bound me to him via those implanted memories and I endured his cruelty for two whole
months
before I found release. A woman passing by noticed the bruises on my arms and face and took me into her home. Another six months went by before I could face intimacy again. ‘Moonbeam’, as she called herself – I never found out her true name because she refused to tell me, claiming that her new name defined her – cared for me during this time, and was kindness and patience itself. She was in her mid thirties – a classic flower child who had a succession of partners in her life, joyfully sharing herself with anyone who asked, regardless of gender. She was the most loving person I had ever met. She offered her body freely with a smile that never faded. I never heard her say a single word in anger in all the time we were together. I grew to love her and she helped me to recover from my terror of intimacy by taking me to her bed one memorable night.

I was chopping up some vegetables when she crept up behind me and softly kissed the back of my neck.

“What are you doing?” I told her. “
Stop
that, silly! I’m trying to make dinner.”

She laughed and spun me around. “Forget dinner for the meantime, honey,” she advised me. “I think it’s time for you to jump headfirst into a relationship again.”

“What do you mean?” I stammered.

“I mean that if you don’t take up with someone
soon
, my sweet, you’ll end up as a hermit,” she explained. “When I first took you away from that monster you were with, you were terrified of proximity with others. You wouldn’t even go
shopping
with me for fear of a stranger accidently touching you. You’ve recovered from that, but you’ve convinced yourself that
all
closeness is wrong. I want to change your mindset and restore you to the loving person I know is still hidden inside.”

“And exactly
how
are you going to do that?” I asked, with a rising uneasiness.

Her eyes sparkled as she smiled tenderly at me. “In the
only
way I know how, dear one,” she replied, laying a gentle hand on my arm and steering me towards her bed.

I let myself be guided to Moonbeam’s bedroom like a sleepwalker. My mind was torn between terror and exultation. I recognised that I was a psychologically damaged individual who desperately needed fixing, but the very
thought
of the steps necessary to effect the cure was freaking me out. I knew the remedy, but the remedy
itself
made me tremble with nervousness. I tried to pull away from Moonbeam’s insistent hands, but she refused to let me go. “I won’t
hurt
you, sweetheart,” she coaxed. “Let me help you be yourself. I know that underneath all your fears, you have so much love to give.”

“I
want
to, Moonbeam,” I told her, still hanging back, “I really do, but my body doesn’t believe me. And anyway, I’ve never been with a woman before. I won’t know what to do or anything.”

Her fingers delicately stroked my face, sending icy shivers down my spine. “I understand, my darling,” she whispered. “The first step will be the hardest, but believe me, you can
do
it. You’re a brave little lioness and you don’t like to run away from anything. Will you let me help you
fight
this demon of yours?”

I looked into her loving, compassionate eyes and recognised that she would be my greatest ally in my struggle for normality. I could refuse, and try again another day, but would
that
day turn into
another
day and that day into another day, ad infinitum……...? No,
now
would be the best time, otherwise I could envisage myself as being lost forever.

I drew a ragged breath and pressed Moonbeam’s hand against my cheek. She smiled in delight and kissed me softly. “I
knew
you’d win your battle,” she murmured. “We can do this, dear heart, because I’ll be with you all the way. Nothing can stop us.”

She sat on the edge of her bed and I, rigid with unresolved emotions, sat beside her. She brushed back my hair – I grew it rather long in those days – and murmured soothing words as I gradually relaxed. When she thought I was ready, Moonbeam took my face in her soft, gentle palms and kissed me comprehensively. At first I resisted, but her lips melted my defiance and, almost involuntarily, my arms went around her back and I surrendered to her caresses. Finally, we broke apart and smiled at each other.

“How do you
feel
, my lovely?” she asked.

“Peaceful,” I replied, “but still a little anxious.”

“That’s to be expected,” she replied. “You’re doing great so far. Let me help you go even further.”

Watching me carefully, Moonbeam began to undo the buttons of my dress, stopping whenever she saw me tense. During those times, she started to undress herself until, by switching between the two of us, she had all of our clothes lying beside us. I stared at her in trepidation, wondering if all of this was going too fast for my wounded emotions, but Moonbeam put my fears to rest by not doing anything. She simply held my hand, sat beside me and talked. Progressively, my thoughts became less chaotic and my muscles less agitated. Moonbeam must have sensed this because, after awhile, she placed her hand on my thigh and I didn’t even flinch. From there we graduated to hugging and tentative bodily explorations. At long last, I was confident enough to lie down, close my eyes and allow Moonbeam to perform the most intimate of actions on my body without a quiver of revulsion. I wept with relief and joy at this revelation. I could
love
again! Moonbeam tenderly kissed the tears from my face and I embraced her fiercely. I was whole once more.

I stayed with Moonbeam as her lover for another year. During that time she stayed faithful to me alone and I regarded that as the highest compliment she could have paid me. I was heart-broken when I left her, but the outside world was calling and I had to go. Moonbeam was the first real love of my life and I was forever grateful to her for healing me. A few years later I returned to the commune, but only to learn that she had left and no one knew where she’d gone. I stayed for a while and indulged myself in a spate of free loving with male and female partners and attended a few orgies but, without Moonbeam, I lacked a specific
direction
in my life. I went back to the frantic outside world with an odd sense of relief, knowing deep inside that the hippie ideal was fading into obscurity. It had been a grand experiment that had enthused a whole generation, but it had finally failed to overcome mankind’s entrenched greed and selfishness.

I flashed through all of this as a dream sequence, marvelling at the lucidity of the images and reliving all of the emotions. I awoke in a daze, shaking my head. I hadn’t thought about Moonbeam for ages.
Why
was I dreaming of her and my hippie days now? I wondered if it was significant. Was my subconscious trying to warn me of something? I couldn’t figure it out. But, no matter, it was the day I was going to pose unclothed for Roger, so I jumped out of bed with a small tingle in my stomach and went down to breakfast.