The Painter - part 1

The Painter.
The internet was not working. Nothing seemed to work as it was expected. The sombre blue grey clouds coated the sky and crawled en mass towards the south. A reluctant army trudging to the southern battle front.
The tree towering beside John was naked of leaves and stood as a stark reminder that nothing lasts forever and time was always running out.
He had his projects to complete and yet the forces of the universe conspired against him.
With his feet up on the coffee table and his headphones on, he relaxed as best he could and listened to his haunting Celtic music and breathed in the fresh winter's air as he sat outside and gazed across the abandoned swimming pool.
In the summer it would be the focus of the front garden and children would be splashing and laughing, but for now it was as cold and hostile as the army of clouds above him.
Everything would get rushed at the last moment and the pressure for late nights in the office would crush him. Late nights meant catching the late trains full of the cities dregs heading home after a few beers, the stragglers who roamed aimlessly from one acquaintance to another, signing on at the dole office and sharing dope and stale tobacco.
But if that was the way the week ahead was to be then he would breathe deep and absorb Enya and wait for something to happen.
He typed at the keys on his laptop and tried again to access his document but the same thing happened and the screen did nothing but show a rotating circle indicating that electronic signals were working but not the way he wanted.
He stared at the trees in the distance and saw a patch of blue sky which appeared as an island of hope.
John breathed out and smiled. He closed his eyes and thought of the pony tailed girl with auburn hair who had been delivering pamphlets in the street. She had smiled when he nodded and waived a hand to her earlier on. That was before the internet died. She said 'Perhaps later' when he shouted out if she wanted a drink. That was an hour ago.
He wanted to have her standing in front of him with a white sheet draped over one shoulder and her thighs and breast exposed and she would look coyly downwards and he would paint her in oils. He would sketch her slender form in light ochres and then he would add the pink and blue hues that caught her skin and the sheet which fell to her feet.
John wondered what would really happen if she did accept his offer and she was standing there semi naked when his wife would pull up later that afternoon.
It was all in the name of art. Painting, not the love making. The love making was lust.
"Hello," she said cheerfully. "I've just finished at last."
John opened his eyes and he focussed on the young woman walking up the drive towards him.
"Sorry to bother you, but could I use your bathroom please?" she smiled with her pony tail dangling behind her. She carried a large empty canvas bag over one shoulder and wore jeans which showed her shapely legs and clung to her hips and a loose white jacket and tired sneakers. She stopped in front of him still smiling broadly.
John sat up startled and took his feet off the coffee table. "Yes. Of course, " he said and coughed to get his voice back to normal.
"Follow me," he said and he led her through the front door and then pointed down a hallway. "Second door on your right. Did you want that drink now?"
"Yes please. Just a glass of water or orange juice would be great, thanks."
John opened his eyes wide and pulled a face as he walked back to the kitchen. Perhaps fate would favour him now and then and while it tormented him over his lost work it would tease him with this beautiful young lady that had just walked into his house.
He poured two glasses of fresh orange juice and added some ice cubes from the freezer and took them outside to his temporary office. He had just finished turning off the computer when she walked out and sat down opposite him.
"I see you're still busy working," she said politely.
"Just finished, actually," he replied putting on his subtle tight lip smile. The smile that said inwardly that this was too good to be true.
"Here," he said as he passed her a glass with crackling ice and took a sip from his own.
"Have you finished for the day or have you got more deliveries to do?" he asked.
"No, that's me done for the weekend. It's my part time job for some money while I'm at uni. It all helps."
John sipped at his orange juice and stared at her over his glass.
"What are you studying?" he asked to make conversation with the girl he had only moments before been dreaming about.
She told him about her course and the subjects and what she hoped to do afterwards when she qualified at the end of the year with a degree in biomechanics. But he was only half listening as he saw her standing with the white sheet and blues and pale pinks and soft yellows growing on his canvas. And he could see the light catching her breast and that beautiful face looking downwards contemplating her future. He needed a sunny day, he needed her in his studio, he needed time with her to work with her and to capture her on canvas forever and he could pull her out every now and then and admire her. She would be too good to hang permanently and then there would the fights with his wife over bad taste and unsuitable material which didn't fit in with the rest of the decor. She hated his nudes. He put that down to her reaching mid life and leaving her slender years behind her and she didn't need reminding of how perfect she had once been.
John kept telling her that he still loved her as she was and that he always would do, but he knew that she knew he would always have that primeval element of lust when he saw younger or slimmer women than her, when he saw someone who reminded him of what she was twenty years earlier.
The girl put down her glass and stood up. "Thank you," she said. "Maybe I'll see you next time they give me a round in this area." She smiled and pulled the bag over her shoulder.
"You know, if you ever wanted to earn any extra money for uni, you could always do some modelling for me."
The girl frowned and pulled a false smile. "Umm," she said and turned from the table.
"I'm serious," John said sensing he had insulted her. "I'm a painter. I can show you if you like. I like traditional but I've started a couple of impressionism paintings which I'm working on."
The girl looked at John and the smile had gone. She wasn't sure how to take him anymore. The middle aged man working on his computer outside on an overcast gloomy day was suggesting she models for him. John knew he was treading on thin ice and feared he would scare her away and lose the chance to be artistic. To take the initiative and get his own model in his own studio. To be an artist.
She shrugged her shoulders to say tell me more and a thin smile appeared as she thought of easier ways to earn money while studying.
"Here, sit down a moment and I'll show you." John turned his laptop on and pulled up the directory of his artwork.
"These are some of the models. Look they're not all nude you know. Umm, here is the work I've done from our art club." John flicked through the images and the girl stared at the screen.
"This is one I particularly like and when I saw you, I thought you would be perfect to do this one but only I'd spend more time on it. In the studio we only get around twenty minutes for each pose. I'd need you for twenty days."
John laughed. "I'm joking," he said as he saw her studying the last image. "It would take three of four hours and you get paid well."
The girl looked at him. "So I'd have to take my clothes of then?" she asked.
"Not at first. The initial sittings would be to get the overall feel of the painting. Then as we progressed, then yes."
"I don't know," she said. The smile was gone. She was in new territory now and felt uncomfortable and John could feel it.
"Look, I work from home, you know where I live, you can bring a friend along if you'd feel better. But honestly, you'll be fine and I know you want the money and I want to paint something so special and I can do that with you."
John smiled gently and closed the laptop. He wrote a number on piece of paper and gave it to her.
"Don't wait too long before getting back to me," he said. "You are beautiful but I can't wait for ever. The next person that looks as good as you will be offered the job."
The girl looked at the phone number and then she looked up at him. "Ok," she said. "When do we start?"