Once upon a time I met an artist…

She was selling her art at a sex show when I first met her; she was quick to smile and start up a conversation and even shared the tattoo that circled her midriff. We talked about her realistic watercolours and she was enthusiastic to share her technique — her art ranged from the sublimely beautiful to the comical to the fringes of the obscene. She was adorable and her sensuality tugged at me to lean in and kiss her.

Her art interested me and was something I wanted to add to my humble collection. We parted company with her suggesting I follow her on Instagram where she posts the progression of her latest work.

Her work would show up in my feed occasionally, as well as photographs of her costumes and suggestions of polyamorous adventures. One of her pieces overwhelmed me and we arranged for me to buy it at her next showing — a woman in fishnet stockings peering over her shoulder.

I would see her at shows and ask her about her original works— I was now looking for two more pieces to complete my set but was in no rush because of the seduction of the art and the artist. Each time her sensuality would tug at me and when I saw her last, she mentioned something she was working on and that I may like it.

It was erotic, and to some, probably pornographic — as she mentioned, Instagram may not let her post it. I seriously thought of buying it but passed because I assumed there would be another.  

And then the pandemic locked us down.

She stopped posting art and eventually anything at all. Her commercial web site has now shut down and she seems to have disappeared. I admit selfishly I miss her art and the tug of her sensuality and hope she is well and still making beautiful art somewhere.

the kiss is the seduction

Like most of our conversations, they tend to weave in and out of the topics of the day and are always mixed with enough innuendo to remind us that everything we say is part of an ongoing seduction. Over dinner one night, we debated whether seduction, by its very nature, has an end in mind or is something that only ends when energy and desire are exhausted.

Does a single seduction lead to drinks after work, and then its a different seduction that leads to the first kiss, and then a continuous series of seductions until bodies are intertwined — or is it something much bigger and not simply a series of progressive events? We have no interest in finding an answer to this question, and believe me we have come back to this many times in whispers, in arguments, and even in our own seductions. Our only agreement on the topic is with the kiss, although we have debated if it is a measure or simply a benchmark.

It was snowing when we kissed for the first time; the flakes were large and floated around us —the street and the world disappeared and I fell into you.

After the music, and as we walked to the car, we stopped and kiss deeply — lifting you into the air slightly, you jump and straddle me.We made love for the first time that night, and I fell even deeper into you.

You leave our bed early to catch a flight — the soft pink impression of your kiss is on the bathroom mirror with promises of desire and drunken sex.

Your kiss enters as a dream and sleep dissolves as I kiss you back; at first it is a dream, and then with the realization you are kissing me, I draw you in— your lips are soft and your tongue offers more than simply a kiss before sleep; I now kiss you deeply. I am hard and not fully awake but I search you out. You are wet and shift willingly to take my cock. We fuck as if in a dream.

Maybe in the end, the kiss is the seduction.

 W

 image: smyoozh