He arrived on my doorstep today, as we’d planned. And I knew before he had even walked through the door, what he was after. But, I sidestepped, and changed the subject before he had chance to say anything, and instead lead him into my studio to see the canvas I’d started painting yesterday, the one that is all consuming, and filling my painting passions. He stood and looked at it, as I briefly explained what I was depicting – the abstract concept of time, in an abstract fashion, in acrylics. He politely responded to my comments, and the subject went on to other matters, one of which was the lack of money around at the moment, and less cars in public car parks, he’d noticed. I think its due to a lack of money generally around at the moment, which also seems to be connected with the membership numbers down in art clubs generally at the moment – I presume that its down to the high price of petrol, or perhaps people don’t feel like painting if money is tight? Strange, I’d have thought it would have been the other way around……
Either way, this wasn’t acknowledging the reason he was here. We were skirting the issue…..
“I’ll make a cup of tea for you!” I smiled, knowing that that was what he really wanted. He nodded, grinning back at me, and I led him to the kitchen whilst I made it. I know he drinks as much tea as I do, and enjoys our chats as much as I do.
We settled down, steaming mugs of hot sweet tea in hand, and chatted – about his family, about my family, about his wife, about my fella, about his work, about my art, about communicating, and having intelligent conversations – the usual subjects of friends. I’ve drawn him before, and we are at ease with each other, and we likes the rapport we have as artist and life model compared to going to other life groups when the poses are stilted, and the music is low-key, the atmosphere cool. But today, he was dressed.
It was an hour or so after we’d started chatting that he conversationally said:
“I know a woman who will pose with me  and she’s free one day soon, if you want to draw us.”
“Ok” I replied, “Where does she live?”
“Er, Derbyshire, I think” he said.
“Ok, what age is she?”
“Er, our age, I think, it’s difficult to say and I don’t like to ask”
“Ok, what does she look like?” I asked, intrigued.
“Well, she’s got reddish sort of hair, and is slender”
“O……k” I said, trying to picture her with that information.
“And I’ve told her that you’re an Erotic Artist, and she said that we’ll have to do an erotic pose then!” he added.
“Ok………” I said “Has she done this sort of thing before?”
“No. She hasn’t” he answered.
“How does she know she’ll like it then?” I wondered
“Oh, she will, she’s very keen!”
“Ok, how do you know her?”
“Well, I just DO!” he said, as if that explained everything.
It didn’t.
“Well, how did you meet?”
“Er, well, I can’t say, she’s just been around for a while”
“Ok, well, you must have met her somewhere!”
He still couldn’t answer me fully.
I said, laughing, and with a great deal of amusement in my voice, since I know my friend well and know how well organised he is “Are you telling me, that you don’t know where this woman lives, you don’t know what she does, you don’t know much about her, but she’s willing to do an erotic pose with you, whatever that may be, for me to draw you both?”
“Yes!” he said “She’s very happy about it, and I presume her husbands happy about it too!”
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