4 comments/ 15489 views/ 0 favorites But is it Art? By: YDB95 It was, Sally conceded, a bit insensitive of her not to fill Nate in on her mother until moments before they met for the first time. But, she reasoned, he never would have believed all there was to say about Mom if he'd had any time to think about it. Besides, since he was in love with Sally herself, she knew he wouldn't be put off easily by a quirky, eccentric woman like she and her mother both were. All those thoughts roared through her head once again on that late December afternoon when they clambered up the stairs to the loft apartment where Sally had grown up. "Is there a lie you've settled on as to how we met?" Nate asked. "No, because I told her the truth," Sally revealed with a nervous grin. "What?!" Nate stopped dead halfway up the stairs, his suitcase hanging limply from one hand and he looked ready to drop it. "You told your mother you went nude on the beach with all your friends -- and my friends?!" "Relax, Nate," Sally said, her voice more conciliatory now as she recalled that none of her friends ever really appreciated her mother until they met her. "My mom's a real bohemian, artistic type, very free spirited, and she always encouraged me to be the same way. In fact, she was really impressed with me, and very happy to hear what a lesson I taught Grace and the others. 'Every woman is beautiful, and now all your friends know that so much better,' that's what she said. And she was really impressed with everything I told her about you, too, Nate!" "I hope you didn't tell her everything we did that day!" Nate said. Sally laughed. "Of course not! We do have some boundaries. But I warn you, we have fewer than most mothers and daughters do." "I remember," Nate said. "Ah yes, I know what you're thinking, Nate," Sally said, recalling how she had told Nate of the time her mother had caught her masturbating and had encouraged her to embrace it, which she had gone on to do in no uncertain terms. "She made me the hornball I am, didn't she?" "Thank heavens!" Nate agreed, and they shared an awkward one-arm embrace on the stairs. After a quick kiss, he relented. "Okay. If you say she's okay with the truth about us, so am I." "She is, and we're only staying the night anyway," Sally reminded him. Her mother had gotten a job painting portraits for tourists on a Caribbean cruise, and she and Nate would be off to spend the holiday in some sort of artists' colony her mother had recommended. She didn't know the details, but it beat sitting around the apartment all Christmas day, she figured. The door to their apartment opened into the kitchen, and Nate was greeted with bright lights and the smell of tea and cinnamon as Sally threw it open. "Hi, Mom!" she said, dropping her suitcase gratefully just inside the door. "Sally! Nate! The train was right on time for once, huh!" Sally's mother jumped up from the kitchen table, where she had been working on a watercolor painting, and buried her daughter in a fierce hug. "I didn't think I was going to see the two of you for hours yet, darling!" Nate had just enough time to wonder about the vintage of the checkered men's dress shirt she was wearing -- as a dress over black tights -- before she let Sally go and greeted him. "Nate, lovely to meet you at last. May I give you a hug?" "Uh, of course!" Nate said it, but the older woman already had her arms out for him, and he thrilled to her tight, welcoming embrace. "Nice to meet you too," he said, his head still swimming at the new awareness that she knew all about how he and Sally had met, and approved of it all. "Sally, why don't you get our guest settled in the living room?" her mother said. "I'll put on some more water for tea or cocoa. Nate, I've been dying to get to know you better!" "Same here," Nate said a bit nervously, but he saw no cause for complaint as Sally took his hand and guided him through the kitchen to the living room. It was tiny but well-kept, with a view of the inner city avenue below them. "There's been a lot of gentrification since I was a kid," Sally told him as they looked out at the snowy urban landscape. "I wish you could have seen what it used to look like out there, quite a change!" Standing guard by the window was a wonderfully garish aluminum Christmas tree. "Mom's had that since before I was born," she told Nate. "Oh, we should put our presents underneath, shouldn't we?" "No need, Sally," her mother replied from the kitchen doorway. "We're going to open them tonight anyway, remember?" "Of course I remember," Sally said, squeezing Nate's hand in anticipation of their trip out into the country for the big day. "I hope you don't feel we're rushing you by celebrating tonight, Mom." "Rushing me, Sally? I'm the one who's going to be spending Christmas in the tropics! Who am I to complain?" "Good point," Sally admitted, snuggling up to Nate on the couch. "Wow, this time tomorrow you'll be on the plane, huh?" "And then hopping around to half a dozen beaches to paint the scenes for rich tourists on holiday," Sally's mother added. "It's a dirty job, but some artist's got to take it." She looked at Nate with a naughty glint in her eyes. "Of course, I don't expect any of my clients will take to the beach quite like the two of you did last summer!" "Mother!" But Sally was laughing unapologetically as she said it. Nate, though he could feel himself blushing, figured it was okay and joined in. Sally noticed as much. "See, you're making the poor thing blush!" "Oh, I'm sorry, Nate," Sally's mother reassured him with a quick kiss on the cheek before retiring to her easy chair next to the tree. "I really am fine with what you and Sally did. In fact, I'm very proud of her. It sounds like she taught everyone a lesson and you helped out a lot." "I guess you could say that," Nate conceded. "That college of hers was always kind of uptight," she continued. "I was delighted when Sally got in, but I worried someone from a background like this would struggle to fit in, and..." "Mother!" "And I was wrong, really. Sally toughed it out, and in the end she got through to...what was her name, Sally?" "Grace," Sally reminded. "And Cindy and Keisha, but it was Grace who was the worst." "She was the one you taught to masturbate, wasn't it?" Sally's mother asked, shocking Nate once again. "I'm sorry, Nate, are we making you uncomfortable?" "Not as long as Sally's okay with it," Nate said, though he still couldn't hide his surprise at the intimate turn in the conversation. "I don't think I ever heard the whole story either," he admitted, looking over at Sally. "That's right, you were already gone by then," Sally said. To her mother she added, "Remember, we only get together every few weeks, so there's not a lot of time for reminiscing." Sally had just finished the first semester of her master's degree at a university just over a hundred miles from Nate's college. They had managed to get together for many weekends, but each visit was quite fleeting. Their Christmas vacation together was to be by far the longest time they had ever spent together to date. "Of course," her mother agreed. "It is only that I was so very proud of you when you told me about Grace. She sounds like a little snob, actually." "She was," Sally agreed. "Anyway, the rest of the summer went a lot more smoothly once I had taught her that. She was very apologetic for everything, even some stuff I wasn't upset about in the first place. It's really so sad that she got to be twenty-two and never really came to terms with something that basic, isn't it?" "Lots of people never do, Sally," her mother reflected. "Nate, I'm sure Sally has told you her own story about that." Now it was Sally's turn to blush and Nate's to laugh. "She has, and I remember having the same kind of guilt about it," he said. "Right down to the praying to God to help me stop." "Thank God He didn't stop you," Sally quipped. "I agree," her mother said, looking remarkably comfortable given the topic. "With all that teenagers have to go through these days, sex is just really better left until later, but we still teach our kids that the safest alternative is shameful. I'm convinced that's why these friends of Sally's looked down their noses at her the way they did. And meanwhile, look how uptight they were about their bodies! But you both taught them a lesson, didn't you?" "It was really nice of her to ask permission to hug me," Nate said later that evening while washing Sally's back in the shower. "Of course I wouldn't have minded if she had just hugged me, but not everyone ever even thinks there'll be a problem." "That might be my fault," Sally admitted. "I mentioned to her that your family was a lot less affectionate." She turned around and lifted both breasts with her hands. "Don't forget to wash under these!" "A lot less open, too," he said. "I can't imagine talking with them about...about all we talked about there. But you know, it was actually really nice once I realized it was okay with her." Having finished his soaping up under them, he now set about washing her breasts, teasing her nipples with his gentle touch and causing her to wiggle in pleasure. "God, this feels so good, too, Sally! It's enough to make me glad my folks went off on their own for Christmas." "I know!" Sally agreed, taking him in her arms. "Do you think this ever becomes routine if you're in love long term?" "I sure hope not," Nate said. Both of them being scarcely five months removed from their virginity and having mostly been together only on a stolen weekend now and again, the simple thrill of undressing together had not lost a bit of its magic. Sally reached down and stroked Nate's hard cock playfully. "Okay, wash my hair and then let's get out of here. I want to play more with this!" With that enticement at hand, Nate washed her long hair even more quickly than he usually would have done with his own short locks. After patting one another dry in the steamy bathroom, they put their robes back on and returned to Sally's bedroom. Nate hadn't even bothered asking if she was sure her mother was okay with them sharing Sally's bed; anyone could have seen she was. Nate flipped on the light. But Sally, two steps behind him, turned it back off just as quickly. "Let's stick with just candlelight for now, shall we?" she asked. "I like that idea," Nate admitted, pulling off his robe to hang on the door. Sally did the same, and then went to her dresser and lit a scented candle she had received in a secret Santa exchange among her classmates. "The minute I opened this, I imagined it would be perfect for our first night here," she explained. The tiny flame came to life and cast a warm glow about the room that blended perfectly with the stray lights from the street that filtered through the open curtain in the room's lone window. "Beautiful," she added, admiring Nate's bare body and the winter night just outside. "God, Nate, it's even lovelier than I imagined!" She walked into his waiting arms, and they held one another in joyful silence for a time. Nate kissed her, and she responded in kind. Just as he was about to bring his hands around front, Sally pulled back. "Wait, come here," she said, and she led him to the window. "All those times we talked about coming here, this is what I wanted you to see most of all. Preferably with both of us nude, too; it's so much more intimate that way!" "No wonder you wanted the lights off," Nate said as Sally sat at one end of the window-seat and invited Nate to sit at the other end, facing her. There was a slight draft through the old window and it was a bit chilly on their bare skin, but the sharp contrast only heightened Nate's arousal as he admired Sally on full display before him. "If you can take your eyes off me," she teased, "Look out the window." As Nate did as she directed and admired the bustling street scene below, she continued. "This was my refuge when I was a kid," she told him. "No matter how nasty the kids at school got, I always knew I could feel safe up here watching the world go by down there. Remember how I said this used to be a rough neighborhood, but that only made me feel that much safer in here. And at Christmas..." she didn't finish that sentence, and Nate didn't need her to: the vivid twinkling of red and green all along the avenue spoke for itself to the sense of goodwill in the chilly night. "Beautiful," Nate said. "I have to confess, this is what I always imagined all kids on the East Coast got to see at Christmastime, as crazy as that sounds now." "They should all be so lucky," Sally said. "I'm sorry, Nate, but I can't imagine growing up in a plain-jane suburb, I just can't." "Cedar Rapids isn't a suburb," Nate corrected, "But I see what you mean." Turning back to Sally now, he asked, "But tell me, what did you mean about preferring if both of us were nude?" "Can't you see, silly?" Sally asked, shamelessly reaching over to take his cock in her hand and stroking it playfully. "It's that much more beautiful if we're admiring the cold, hard world out there when we're at our most vulnerable. Just inside the window, stark naked, yet safe together -- it's all that much more intense!" Nate laughed agreeably. "That's what I love about you, Sally, you have such an artist's mind for these things." "I had plenty of time to think about it, growing up in this room," Sally reminded him. "And, you know, this is where I always masturbated back then. So there was plenty of fantasizing about my crush of the week here with me, with the wide world just outside but no one knew our delicious little secret." "And now your crush of the week is indeed here, isn't he," Nate said, struggling to catch his breath now as Sally had proven to be a fast learner when it came to pleasuring him. "More like my crush of a lifetime!" Sally corrected, leaning in for another kiss. Nate scooted forward to reach her, and in soon they were entwined in one another's arms on the window-seat, the mild draft only serving to intensify the heat of their embrace. Sally continued with her slow, luxuriant strokes, and Nate followed her lead and tickled her vulva enticingly. "Oh, God, you're such a tease!" she said, spreading her legs just a bit wider. Feeling she was wet and ready, Nate slipped two fingers inside, drawing a gasp of pleasure. With his free arm around her back, Nate caressed her inner flesh in tight circles. Sally rocked back and forth to the small extent their position allowed, and moaned without inhibition -- it was not, Nate knew by then, as though her mother would disapprove. Though she continued playing with his cock, her strokes were becoming more haphazard by the second as he worked her into an intense lather. As she neared her orgasm, at last she gave up any pretense of trying to reciprocate and used her hands to balance herself as she felt the loss of control washing over her. "Oh! Ohmigod! Nate!" After a long, husky exhalation, she collapsed in his arms and gazed out the window. The great urban outdoors of her youth had never looked so beautiful before, even at Christmas. "Is that the sort of thing you envisioned for yourself when you masturbated here?" he asked. "Sometimes," Sally said. "But usually I was more focused on what I'd do to his body than what he'd do to mine, since I was already so very good at getting myself off. Besides, I don't think I realized men would, you know, do that. With their fingers." "Can't imagine why we wouldn't," Nate said. "It feels so beautiful, and I love what it does to you." Sally threw her arms around him. After a fond squeeze, she got to her feet and took him by the hand. "Come to bed," she said. "Your turn." Far from the drafty window, the bed felt warm even with the covers pulled down. There was no need for foreplay, but as Nate climbed on top of Sally he couldn't resist suckling her breasts one by one, to her further delight. "So unfair!" she grunted. "All this for me, and what about you?" "It's the season for giving, isn't it?" Nate replied, and he resumed kissing one nipple and teasing the other by hand. "That's just how I always imagine you doing it on the phone," Sally said. "I know. You always tell me, remember?" Sally laughed. "Yes, of course I do. Silly!" They had gained a great deal of experience in phone sex over the course of the semester, and Nate had become just as voracious a masturbator as Sally already was. "But it feels so much better for real than when I imagine it!" "For me, too," Nate agreed, although Sally could only guess that was what he had said as his mouth was full of her flesh. At long last, Nate knelt up and tried to push his way in. As usual, he missed his mark and Sally took him in hand and guided him in. They enjoyed a comfortable laugh at the still-awkward moment that seemed to happen every time they made love, and soon Nate was humping her into a tizzy -- which also happened every time. Thanks to the end of semester crunch, it had been three long weeks since their last visit and there hadn't even been time for the marathon phone conversations that had so often turned steamy. All those weeks of burning young love with no release were palpable between them as Nate flailed with wild abandon, once again wondering how two so inexperienced lovers had come to be so very good at it so quickly. "Just come," Sally gasped between moans. "I just want you to come for me!" "Soon as you do!" Nate replied. "No need..." but even as she said it, Sally could feel the limits approaching. She gave in and threw her arms around Nate as he drove her to another orgasm. The intensity of her embrace and her yelp of pleasure pushed Nate over the edge as well, and he collapsed atop her with a joyful sigh. Nate broke the silence of the afterglow, as he so often did. "Do you think more experienced guys don't get lost on the way in like I always do?" "I don't see why they would," Sally mused. "All the experience in the world isn't going to give you eyes in your penis, is it?" Nate burst into laughter that was a great deal louder than any of the noises they had made during the sex. "Yeah, I guess that is what it would take, isn't it? Anyway, I'm sorry I always miss." "Don't be sorry, Nate!" Sally reassured him. "It's perfectly natural, and really it's kind of fun for me, guiding you in. It makes it just a little more special, you know, another way we're sharing one another." "That's sweet," Nate said. Sliding off her and snuggling up close beside her in the narrow bed, he added, "That's why I love you so much, you always put me at ease about these things." "And there I thought it was because I went nude on the beach," Sally quipped. "That too." They laughed together, and after Sally got up to blow the candle out, they drifted off to sleep together. They were awakened in the morning by a knock at the bedroom door. "Sally? Nate? Are you up?" "We are now, Mom," Sally said with a yawn. She sat up, letting the blankets slide off her, as her mother opened the door. "The taxi's waiting outside," she explained. "I've made coffee for you, and there's plenty for breakfast. Merry Christmas!" She leaned down and hugged Sally, who showed no sign of minding that her breasts were exposed; and then she looked expectantly at Nate. "Merry Christmas to you as well," he said, and he leaned up and let her hug him goodbye as well, thanking his lucky stars that the blankets were too heavy to betray his erection. As soon as she had shut the door, Nate pulled the sheets back to get up. Sally noticed immediately what he had managed to hide from her mother. "What inspired that, exactly?" she asked, though she suspected she knew the answer. Nate fell back on his pillow and laughed. "Your mother is just amazing! And you're amazing for feeling so comfortable with her." But is it Art? "I can just imagine what you're imagining," Sally said, taking his hardness in her hand and rubbing gently. "I assure you, we don't take baths together or anything." "Rats," Nate quipped. Sally laughed. Then she leaned over Nate, who barely had time to register what she was up to before she took him into her mouth. Soon they were both grateful that Sally's mother had left, as she had Nate howling up a storm. She had never done it before, but his intense responses persuaded Sally that she was doing it right. And so she snarfed down hard and fast, again and again, loving the growing tension in his voice, until he came with an intense splash that sent Sally running to the bathroom with her mouth shut tight. When she returned a moment later, she asked Nate, "Did you like that, sweetie? You never ask for it or anything, so I wondered..." "I loved it," Nate said. "I just never asked for it because I'm so fond of seeing you come, and, you know, you don't get anything out of that." "Oh, but I do!" Sally reassured him. "Those noises you made were beautiful! Besides, it's not like we both have to come every time." "That's sweet," Nate said. "But you know, it's really only fair that I return the favor, isn't it?" He sat up and eyed Sally's bush hungrily. "What did you say last night about the season of giving?" Sally reminded him. "Besides, we ought to get on the road." Nate did not look convinced. "Really, it's fine, Nate. Sometimes it feels better to just give." Recalling the many times he'd gone down on her, she added, "Don't you think?" "Point taken," Nate allowed. "It is." With the winter sun shining brightly outside, Sally threw open the curtains and stood brazenly nude in the window. Nate bounded up off the bed to join her and they embraced, feeling just as unabashed as they had that day on the beach. "So just what is this place we're going to?" Nate asked Sally an hour later, over breakfast at a diner off the interstate. "Well, I don't know exactly," Sally said. "Just that Mom described it as an artists' colony, and she dragged me to a lot of those when I was younger and I always had a wonderful time. You'll never meet a more open minded group of people. If this is anything like those, it'll be a lot better than spending Christmas alone at home." "But you don't actually know any of the people there, I take it?" Nate said. "No," Sally admitted. "But we'll be together. What else do we need?" "How deliciously sappy," Nate teased. "You can't fool me, Nate, you love sappy!" Sally ran her foot playfully up his leg. "Of course I do," Nate confessed. The small town to which Sally's mother had directed them was awash in Christmas cheer of every sort. As Sally drove her mother's old Toyota slowly through the quiet streets, she and Nate concluded that it was the perfect destination for anyone who loved sappy. "She was right, it's the perfect Christmas getaway!" Sally said, admiring the buildings that were decked out in red and green garlands and the twinkling lights strewn across the main street. "It's a winter wonderland all right," Nate agreed. "But where's the place we're staying?" "Mom said to just ask someone in town," Sally said. "She said anyone here would know the place and how to find it." It was lunchtime anyway. So they parked outside a quaint looking drugstore with a lunch counter, and were lucky enough to get two seats side by side as an older couple were just leaving. The shop was just as bustling with Christmas cheer as the street outside, perhaps even more so thanks to the radio on top of the cash register which was blaring Christmas songs. Neither of them objected to the music for the moment; it capped off the kitsch just right. After ordering two bowls of tomato soup and a tuna melt to split, Sally fished the scrap of paper with the name of the colony out of her jeans pocket. "Say," she asked the waitress, "Do you know where...the Abermarle place is?" The waitress looked surprised, and the older man sitting to Sally's right turned around in surprise. In unison they said, "You don't want to go there, do you?" "This time of year?!" the waitress continued. "Yeah, especially now," agreed the man. "Why not?" Sally was defiant, but she kept her cool. By her side, Nate looked back and forth at the locals in surprise. "My mother suggested we go spend Christmas there. She has some friends who are involved in the community there, so I know we'll be welcome." "It's not a matter of being unwelcome," said the waitress. "It's more a matter of if that's where you want to spend the holidays! There's a lovely bed and breakfast just up the block, you know, and we know how to treat tourists this time of year. The Abermarle gang? Not so much." "You two look awfully young to put yourselves through a dreary Christmas like that!" agreed Sally's neighbor. "Well...thanks," Sally said, privately annoyed at what she assumed was only typical small town condescension for anyone the least bit unorthodox -- like herself and especially her mother. "But could you please just tell me where the place is so we can go see for ourselves?" The waitress looked at the man, who shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, I can tell you where it is," she said. She took the scrap of paper from Sally and wrote down a rudimentary map directing them to a two lane highway that led north of town. "But please, do keep in mind you have other options, okay?" "Of course," Sally said. "Thank you. But I'm sure it'll be fine. My mother's always been good at finding offbeat places that are a lot of fun." "I sure wish I knew what she were thinking this time, then," the waitress said. "That was...intimidating," Nate said when they were back in the car. "That was typical small town closed-mindedness," Sally replied. "If anything, it only makes me think this place will be even better." In minutes, they were beyond the town limits and surrounded by barren farm fields. The occasional house flew by as Sally gunned the car up the road, most of them with a token string of lights or a decorated tree that served as an oasis of cheer against the gray backdrop. Ten minutes or so out of town, a sprawling mansion appeared on the horizon. As they drew close, Sally and Nate could see a few lights on in the windows and a waft of smoke from one of the three chimneys, but no decorations. "That must be the place," Nate said. "It doesn't look very artsy to me," Sally said. But she slowed the car enough to read the name on the mailbox as they approached. Sure enough, a sign reading "Abermarle" was hanging from the post, swinging a bit in the winter wind. "Maybe they were right about this place," Nate mused. "Eh, they probably just didn't want to bother with decorations," Sally said. "Let's go in." Privately, though, she wondered. The huge, ornate mansion lacked any sign of the offbeat, anything-goes welcoming atmosphere that marked almost every artists' commune that her mother had dragged her to over the years. But she parked the car near the barn-cum-garage in a spot where the snow had been cleared away, and they walked across the snowy grass to the front door and rang the bell, triggering a gong within that seemed to make the whole house shake. The moment the door swung open to reveal the well-dressed, stern looking woman behind it, Sally knew her and Nate's concerns had been well founded after all. Dressed in a well-tailored business suit with her hair in a bun, she looked far more like she belonged in an office than anywhere else. "Sally, isn't it?" she asked. "And Nate?" "Y -- e -- e -- s," Sally stammered with a sidelong look at Nate. "Lovely. Your mother said to expect you." She stood aside and bade them enter the foyer, which was warm and elegantly furnished, and devoid of any sign of Christmas. "I hope you don't mind my saying you don't look terribly much like her." "Erm, no, not at all," Sally said. She had heard that enough times before to not express any annoyance at it this time around. "Grand, then. My name is Mrs. Pelletier and I run the show around here. Let me show you both to your rooms, and then perhaps you'd like some afternoon tea with our painters." "Our rooms?" Sally turned and mouthed the words silently at Nate as he followed her up the stairs, disbelieving what she had just heard. The look on his face confirmed, though, that she had heard correctly. "Mrs. Pelletier," she said out loud now, "We'll be fine with sharing one room, actually." "No you will not," Mrs. Pelletier said in a tone of considerable finality. "Mr. Pelletier and I do not allow fraternization among our artists in residence. We find it interferes with the creative process." "Is that why there are no Christmas decorations either?" Nate asked, unable to hide his irritation. "Precisely," replied Mrs. Pelletier, evidently failing to note the sarcasm in Nate's question. At the top of the stairwell, she turned and held up her hand to halt Nate. "This is the women's wing," she said. "I'm afraid you are not allowed past this point. James!" She peered over Nate's shoulder, and he turned to see a young man -- presumably James -- who had blended in so well to the décor that neither of them had noticed him before. He jumped up from a chair and rushed over to greet them. "Take young Nate here to any free bedroom you have over there, would you?" "Certainly, ma'am," James said. "Nate? Follow me." After one helpless last look at Sally, Nate did as he was told. Mrs. Pelletier led Sally into the women's wing. "You'll be thanking me before you know it, dear," she explained. "Just a few days living with only women and having none of the filth and filthy-mindedness men bring to everything and you'll wonder how you ever got by without a sanctum of femininity like ours." "I take it my mother never told you I grew up alone with her and then went to an all-women's college," Sally said dryly. "I don't believe it came up," Mrs. Pelletier said. "But then, your mother doesn't go on about such things very much. Always about the artistic process and how we take things much too seriously and other such nonsense. It's a wonder she found the time to tell me she had a daughter at all, to tell the truth." Sally had just enough time to wonder how her mother and Mrs. Pelletier could even stand to be in the same room as one another before they arrived at her room. "Here you are, dear," Mrs. Pelletier said, turning on the light and ushering her into a small and cramped, but opulently decorated room. Crimson ruffles and polished mahogany everywhere, a garish canopy enveloping the bed...it looked straight out of a fairy tale to Sally. Even before Mrs. Pelletier began telling her in detail about the antique furniture, she was already feeling every bit the imprisoned princess, hostage in a gilded cage while the joyous holiday season passed them by back in town. The queen-size bed took up most of the room, and would have been perfect for snuggling with Nate. Suddenly she felt nothing but a desperate wish to be back in her own fairly shabby old bedroom with Nate for the whole week. But who knew when she would even be allowed to see Nate again? "I'll show you the necessary room, now," Mrs. Pelletier announced. "Then you will be most grateful that we keep the men at bay, I promise you, dear." "Nate is perfectly capable of cleaning up after himself," Sally grumbled as she followed the older woman back out into the hallway. "That is not the issue at all," Mrs. Pelletier said. At the end of the hall she flung open the last door on the right, and Sally had to admit that she saw the problem. While the row of toilets had stalls that offered a modicum of privacy, the showers were in a row of eight or nine taps without so much as a divider between any of them. "I feel safe in assuming, Sally, that you don't care to take your morning shower with a bunch of frustrated male artists watching you." Sally managed to hide her amusement and say "Of course." But thoughts of last summer came rushing through her mind, and it certainly looked as though this house could use just that sort of fun... "Let me guess," Nate said to James during a dispiriting look around his spare, businesslike bedroom with its expertly made bed and nondescript decorations -- an office with a bed, almost. "Mr. Pelletier died coming down the chimney one year and now Mrs. Pelletier hates Christmas." "Amazing how often we hear that joke," said James. "But no. Mr. Pelletier is alive and well and off in the South Pacific somewhere this year scouting for new artists. I guess his frequent absences don't help his wife's attitudes, but really she's just being stern as part of the program." "What program?" Nate asked. "This place is a real boot camp for artists. Don't let Mrs. Pelletier ever know I used that word, but that's what it is. She pushes them hard to create, and they do. You should see the list of places that have paintings hanging that came from here! But that kind of thing doesn't come easy, and it certainly doesn't come from your typical anything-goes artists' colony where everyone's just smoking up and sleeping with one another." "But surely she could ease up on them at Christmas!" Nate said. "And let them make up their own minds about their sleeping arrangements." "Christmas is the worst time of all for giving into sentimentality, my friend," James said. "This ain't no Thomas Kincade factory, if you get my drift. As for the gender segregation...well, let me show you." And he led Nate back out into the hall and showed him the same explanation Sally had just received in the women's wing. "No privacy, no mixing. It's only fair, really." "I'd have to agree with that, at least," Nate said. But he found himself grappling with the same pleasant memories that Sally was reliving at that very moment. Sally and Nate were led upstairs -- by separate stairwells at the ends of their respective wings -- to the studio, where at last they were allowed back together. Talking about what they had seen and learned was out of the question in Mrs. Pelletier's presence, of course, but they joined hands and took comfort in one another's presence as she extolled the virtues of the painters' work. It was a huge, open room, taking up most of the third floor. With its paint-stained hardwood floors and stacks of canvases and supplies, it was the first part of the house either of them had seen that looked anything like they had expected an artists' colony to look. With huge windows lining both the north and south ends of the room, it was surely exceptionally well-lit in the summertime; today, fluorescent lights made up for the gray scene outdoors. Off in the distance, Nate thought he saw a single Christmas tree twinkling outside a farmhouse. But he couldn't be sure. There were perhaps fifteen to twenty painters at work, spread out all through the huge room, painting everything from a classical still life to the most impenetrable sort of abstract work. They all greeted Sally and Nate with cordial smiles as Mrs. Pelletier made her cursory introductions, but none said anything. This didn't bother Sally in the least, as she knew how artists tended to get lost in their work. But her already-burst bubble was further deflated as it became clear there would be no joyous celebration of togetherness, here any more than anywhere else in the house. Even the paintings-in-progress themselves were studiously devoid of holiday themes. "The art here is for the ages, not for December," Mrs. Pelletier advised Sally as if reading her mind. "I'm ever so glad your mother sent you here, dear; clearly you could use some of the discipline we've passed on to them all here. Shall we get you and Nate set up with a canvas and easel of your own? One for each, of course." "Oh, we're not painters," Sally said. "That's another thing my mother didn't pass on to me." "Nonsense, dear," Mrs. Pelletier insisted. "It's never too late to begin. That's exactly what I told your mother when she called me, and do you know what she said to me?" Sally shrugged her shoulders. "She said the same was true of me! Great minds think alike, I suppose. At any rate, I insist. Both of you. You'll find some smocks to change into in the changing rooms." She pointed at both ends of the room. "Ladies on the left, men on the right, and we'll have a station for each of you when you come back." There was, of course, nothing else to do anyway. So neither Sally nor Nate saw any point in arguing the matter. She said the same was true of me! Those words echoed again and again in Sally's memory as she undressed, balefully regarding the smock and old jeans that awaited her. That poor woman had missed the point entirely, and now it looked as though she and Nate were in for a miserable first Christmas together. It was almost as if her mother had sent them here to learn some sort of lesson. Then it struck her, just as quickly: perhaps she - and Nate as well -- had missed the point. What if Mom had sent them here to teach a lesson just like the one they'd taught their friends back on the beach? And all at once, Sally knew just how to break the ice. She would be rather surprised if Nate agreed to it, but then he had surprised her before. If he refused, she could always step up and take the bull by the horns once again. Sally could barely contain the rebellious thrill she was feeling as she pulled the old, paint-stained but comfortable clothes on and stepped back out into the too-quiet studio. Nate was already there, fiddling with his waiting paints and looking like he had no idea where to even begin. Perfect, Sally thought. Nate looked up to see her approaching. "You look awfully happy," he said in a tone barely above a whisper. "Why does that make me nervous?" "Because you know me all too well!" Sally acknowledged. "Listen, I've got an idea!" She leaned in and whispered it in his ear. Nate listened, and then straightened back up and looked around at all the other painters, each one lost in mass-produced art. He grinned, but looked all set to die of embarrassment. Sally nodded and continued. "I know it's terrifying -- you know I know that, Nate! But it's art and it's for their own good, isn't it? And don't expect me to believe you didn't enjoy it as much as I did last time!" "I did," Nate said. "But that was just with our friends!" "I guarantee you, Nate, these people are a lot more open minded than our friends were. I know the type!" Seeing he was still not quite convinced, she added, "Do you have a better idea for how to loosen this place up?" Nate had to admit that he did not. "I'll be right back," he said at last, and retreated to the men's changing room. Sally, elated and ever so slightly disappointed that she would not be the star of the show this time, dragged Nate's untouched canvas and easel to a corner where an ancient blue couch sat empty beneath the window. The nearest of the other painters, a fortysomething looking woman who was struggling with an outdoor landscape, was perhaps fifteen feet away and paid her no mind. That, Sally knew all too well, would not last. But perhaps she would like what she saw. Perhaps they all would, Sally mused with a smile she couldn't hide. If anyone put two and two together when Nate emerged in a terrycloth robe, no one commented on it. Sally was careful to avoid looking up herself, lest she draw attention to them. In this she succeeded, so Nate was free to toss off the robe before modesty could overcome him again, and lie back unapologetically nude on the couch. Beautiful, Sally thought, and with one last look around the room she confirmed that, unbelievably, no one seemed to have noticed. Knowing that wouldn't last long, she set about immediately capturing her beloved as best she could with bold strokes on the canvas. But is it Art? Her one art class at college had been three years before and she had never painted a nude of either gender, but Sally reasoned that she had already told Mrs. Pelletier of her limitations and had been encouraged to try anyway. In any event, Sally was far less concerned with her own artistic ability than with the wonderfully naughty sight of her true love, naked and on very public display before her. The male body was ever so underappreciated! Poor Nate was clearly a bit chilly, and Sally was almost embarrassed on his behalf at how his penis was shriveled inconspicuously into the lovely dark curls that surrounded it; but she was also very proud of his being secure enough not to mind. As Sally mapped out the contours of his body in her paint strokes, the sense of having won the battle overcame her to the point where she didn't notice at first that the middle aged woman she had taken note of earlier was now standing just behind her. The reverie was broken when the woman spoke up: "You can't do that!" Sally's heart leapt, but she had expected such a confrontation. "Mrs. Pelletier didn't say we couldn't," she said. "Yes, but...it's just the sort of thing she's always lecturing us against!" "Which is all the more reason to do it if that's where your heart leads you," Sally replied. "Besides, isn't Christmas a time for --" "Don't say that word!" came another female voice, and Sally looked behind her to see another young woman, her age or a bit older, now shamelessly gazing on at Nate. She was trying to look stern, but Sally had no doubt at all that she was enjoying the view. "We're here to work, and you can't let the holidays distract you!" "If we're here to work, perhaps the both of you ought to get back to your own paintings," Sally said. "Although, if you'd like to paint Nate here as well, I'm sure he won't mind. Will you, Nate?" "Not at all," Nate reassured them. "It'll even be interesting to see the different ways I look to different painters." "Now you're seeing it through an artist's eyes," Sally said, her eyes glowing with equal parts approval and arousal. The older woman looked around the room, and Sally followed her lead to see they were causing a bit of a scandal, but that most of the other painters were still focusing on their own work. "You're sure you don't mind?" she asked Sally. "I've said you were welcome, didn't I?" Sally said. "And you don't mind?" she asked Nate. "I wouldn't have posed if I did," he told her. Without another word, the woman fetched a blank canvas and positioned herself a few feet to Sally's right, and set to work. The third woman, who introduced herself to Sally as Martha, also accepted the invitation and began incorporating Nate into her existing painting. All were aware of the buzz throughout the room and the sense of fear that they were courting trouble when Mrs. Pelletier returned, but no one else complained. Two more women had joined them in painting Nate when, inevitably, Mrs. Pelletier arrived. "I trust we are all..." she began, striding authoritatively into the studio. Her words gave way to an inarticulate shriek when she saw Nate. "Good god, ladies, what on earth is this?!" "Exactly what it looks like," said one of the other women, freeing Sally to continue focusing on her painting. "A nude painting. Happens all the time, you know that." "Not here!" Mrs. Pelletier said, staking a place in front of Nate and blocking the painters' view of him. "You come here to create something unique and saleable, not run of the mill schlock! Besides, there's no market for male nudes!" "Thank you!" added a male painter who had been especially fervent in his whispered protests all along. "We've all been looking forward to you shutting this filth down, Mrs. Pelletier." "Filth?" Martha spoke up in protest. "He has a beautiful body, and we're all enjoying painting him. What is your problem?" "The same as mine, I suspect," Mrs. Pelletier spat out. "It's distasteful at best, and it certainly isn't art." "Exactly," said the man. "Just look at him. That's not art." "That's not for you to decide, is it, Lou?" asked another male painter. "Obviously they see artistic value." "And I see a guy who's probably sexually confused and so insecure he has to parade himself around like a freak show," Lou shot back. "Certainly no artistic value." "I think you're jealous!" said the older woman who had first approached Sally. "I'll show him how jealous I am later in the shower," Lou snapped. "Mrs. Pelletier, I think I'm done for the day." He threw his brush and palate down and stormed off to the changing room. "That goes for all of you," Mrs. Pelletier announced. "Everyone off to the showers, and we shall have a serious talk about this over dinner!" She strode off without another look or word. The middle aged woman who had challenged Lou approached Sally as she helped Nate back on with his robe. "I'm sorry I provoked Lou there," she said. "It sounds like I've put you in a difficult position...Nate, is it?" "Yes," Nate said. "Hi, Nate. I'm Laura, and I'm also delighted someone is finally shaking that old hag up a bit. She's insufferable at the best of times, and of course Christmas is worst of all..." Looking aside at Martha, she repeated the word, "Christmas! It won't bite, dear." "I'm sorry," Martha said. "And honestly, I'm glad for this change, too. You make a lovely model, Nate." "Thanks." Nate blushed, even though he was now clothed again, albeit only in the flimsy robe. "In any event," Laura continued. "I'm afraid you're probably not safe in the men's shower with Lou in the state he's in. I'm sure we could arrange for you to use our shower instead." "I wouldn't want to hold you all up, though," Nate said. "I guess I could shower after you all do." "You could," Martha said. "But if I know Laura, I think she was hoping you'd like to shower with us." "It's not as though we haven't all seen what there is to see," another of the women pointed out, drawing a titter of agreement through the clutch of admirers Nate had by then. "Maybe it's only fair that we return the favor," suggested another. "Well..." Nate looked at Sally. "Do you really think I'd object, silly?" Sally quipped. Minutes later, Sally -- having also undressed by then -- ushered Nate into the women's showers, where they were greeted with a round of applause by the other women. "You two were just what this place needed," said Laura, who hugged them one by one. "You make a great model," added Martha. With a saucy grin, she added, "I hope you like the view as well, Nate." "I do, thanks," said Nate with a shy laugh. "You're all a sight for sore eyes as well." With a delightful array of beautiful bodies in their midst, Sally didn't begrudge Nate the chance to look to his heart's content, especially since he didn't touch anyone except her. Amidst the playful ogling and flirting, Nate and Sally compared notes with the others and learned that what Nate had heard was true: Mr. Pelletier was the worst sort of absentee husband and the constant bombardment of holiday cheer was murder on his wife, which was why she did her utmost to keep it at bay in their home. "It's an open secret among the students," explained one woman who had never formally introduced herself. "We put up with it because it's such a unique chance to learn the craft here, but everyone knows better than to push back on it." "Until today, anyway," added Martha. "But I'm glad someone finally did, really. We've all got our crosses to bear. No need for her to make life miserable for us all!" At this there was widespread agreement. Shortly afterward the hot water began to wane, and the group shower came to an agreeable end. After drying one another off, Sally and Nate walked arm in arm to the door, where they had every intention of retiring to her room together and the consequence be damned. They were greeted at the bathroom door by two guards, with Mrs. Pelletier standing just behind them with a grim but satisfied look on her face. "Take him back to his quarters, gentlemen," she said. Sally jumped in front of Nate. "Take me, too, then!" she demanded. One of the guards shoved her effortlessly aside, knocking her towel loose and sending her sprawling naked to the hallway floor. Neither of the men paid her any further mind as they dragged Nate down the hall, Mrs. Pelletier following close behind. "That will be all, boys," she told them once they had deposited Nate on his bed, and they took their leave, shutting the door behind them. As soon as she was alone with Nate, she yanked his towel mercilessly away and tossed it against the wall. "If you are so fond of putting yourself on display, you might as well give me a nice look," she chirped. "Go ahead and look," Nate replied. "I'm not ashamed." She gazed shamelessly down at his body, and allowed a tiny smile that betrayed her enjoyment. "I must say I admire your confidence, and your girlfriend's trust in you as well, allowing you in the shower with all those other hussies." "They're not hussies!" Nate snapped. "There is no need for you to defend their honor, dear! Besides, you only just met them this afternoon. How do you know what they are?" "I certainly know better than you do," Nate said. She was still gazing at his naked body and now he rather did want to cover up, but he defiantly refused to do so. "We talked in there. I learned a lot. About them, and about you." "And no doubt you learned I'm some sort of Cruella de Ville just because my husband is away on Christmas, or some tripe like that," she said. "Well, you are, aren't you?" Nate demanded. "I prohibit fraternization because people are here to learn," Mrs. Pelletier said, ignoring the question for the moment. "And I prohibit nude paintings because they lead so easily to just the sort of orgy I just rescued you from." "Which was absolutely harmless," Nate said. "Except inasmuch as it deterred all the ladies' attention from their paintings. But if you must know, Nate, there is a reason why I prefer to keep Christmas at bay. It's got nothing to do with my husband; he's got a girl in every port and he's too stupid to know I even know about it, and I'm just as happy to have him off halfway around the world. It gets lonely, mind you, but I'm used to that! I was a poor little rich girl from the very beginning, learned my trade from the best instructors money could buy, always under the watchful eye of my nanny until the day my father paired me off to old Mr. Pelletier, and every December along the way, Christmas was for Daddy's little girl to be seen and not heard. I got clothes and jewelry by the bucketload for gifts, of course, but anything I really wanted? Forget it!" "So you've got to ruin Christmas for everyone else who comes here?" Nate protested. "What's that going to solve?" "Who says it's got anything to do with solving anything?" Mrs. Pelletier said. "People come here to learn how to paint, not to be touchy-feely and leave me feeling like an outsider on my own property! Besides, it's only one Christmas they're missing out on, not a lifetime of them! Do you know, Nate, I remember the first and last time I dared ask for anything for Christmas. I was six years old, and a little boy my nanny's sister took care of had the loveliest collection of Matchbox cars you've ever seen. Well, Mother and Daddy brought me to see a department store Santa while they were out shopping, and he asked me what I wanted for Christmas. And like a fool, I said I wanted Matchboxes. Before Santa could say a word, Daddy grabbed me off his lap and carried me away under his arm, grumbling all the way home about girl toys and boy toys and why did I need toys at all anyway?! That, Nate, is why I don't care to have anyone whine about Christmas on my watch!" "You...I can't..." Nate gave up on trying to respond to her at all. "Now. Since you've chosen to make such a mockery of my disciplined approach to learning, I've decided you will be joining us for dinner tonight dressed exactly as you are now. I trust you shan't be embarrassed, given that all the students have seen you in the nude already. You are to remain here until the dinner bell, and I have instructed the guards not to let you out of your room with any clothing." "Yes ma'am." Nate felt more pity than anger as he watched Mrs. Pelletier take her leave. Nate curled up on his bed and was lost in humiliation for a few minutes...until he remembered that his phone was in his suitcase. Quietly he fished it out and sent Sally a text message explaining the sentence and what he had learned. He received a reply almost immediately: "We've got you covered. Figuratively. See you at dinner -- all of you!" Though he didn't know just what it meant, Nate smiled. There was little doubt he could count on Sally. When the dinner bell clanged, the guards entered the room and took him by the arms to drag him downstairs. To their surprise, Nate offered no resistance. "Like she said, it's not like anyone will be seeing anything new," he said. The dining room was as opulent -- and as devoid of Christmas decorations -- as the rest of the mansion, and the other men were already seated. There were a few stray snickers when Nate was led to his place at the table, but none dared comment, for Mrs. Pelletier was seated at the head of the table. "Welcome, Nate," she said crisply. "Merry Christmas, Mrs. Pelletier," he said. "You are only lengthening your sentence with that attitude," she warned. To the guards, she asked, "Where are the women?" "Haven't seen them," he said. "Go find what the holdup is," she said. "I'm sure these gentlemen -- and Nate -- are quite hungry." "Of course, madam," the guard said. But no sooner had he turned toward the stairwell then he let out a yelp of surprise. "Uhh...madam, the...the women are here," he stammered. Into the dining room they marched, Sally and Laura arm in arm in the lead, each and every one of them as naked as Nate, who looked up joyfully at the procession as the other men hooted and whistled their approval. "What is the meaning of this?!" demanded Mrs. Pelletier, jumping up in a rage as the women all took their seats. "I think you know exactly what it is," Sally said. "I'll not have this at my dinner table!" Mrs. Pelletier screamed. "All of you go back and get dressed! Except you, dear," she added to Sally. "You've just joined your friend in his punishment." "We're not going anywhere, Mrs. Pelletier," Martha proclaimed. "If you're going to humiliate poor Nate when he was only offering himself up to our art, we're going to stand with him." "Or sit with him," laughed one of the other women. "You're more than welcome to sit as far as I'm concerned," announced a young man seated near Nate. "Perhaps you ought to join us, then," replied Martha. "Fair's far," the man admitted, and he pushed back his chair and pulled his shirt off. "Enough!" Mrs. Pelletier was pounding the table now, but she'd lost her last bit of control as most of the men joined in. Soon the entire room was a joyous display of unapologetic nudism. Mrs. Pelletier screamed at the guards to do something, but they were hopelessly outnumbered. A ragged chorus of "Joy to the World" bubbled up from the cacophony of laughter and screeches, and Mrs. Pelletier withdrew in disgust. "Yessss. Do it! Do it! Merry Christmasssss!" Sally gripped at the mattress for dear life as Nate pushed her to a third orgasm an hour or so later. She knew the moment when he came as well, as he pushed in as far as he could and stayed there, wiggling only the tiniest bit. "Thank you," she whispered breathlessly as he collapsed happily on top of her. "Merry Christmas, Sally," he said. "It'll never feel very merry here, will it?" Sally asked, with a regretful look around the room. "Shame to let such a beautiful room go to waste without making love in it once," Nate said. "I agree," Sally said. "Isn't it great to think how many of the others have probably paired up by now, too! But I'd just as soon go home. What do you think?" "Absolutely," Nate agreed. "Our job is done here, isn't it?" "My mother's going to love hearing this," Sally said, getting up to collect her clothes. "You think this is what she wanted us to do?" Nate asked. He followed her lead and began getting his suitcase, which he'd collected from down the hall just after dinner, in order. "Of course," Sally said. "Mrs. Pelletier told me so. By accident, but she told me." "Just where did she disappear to, anyway?" Nate asked. "I have no idea," Sally said. "Let's get out of here before she turns up. I don't think I want to know what else she'd have to say to us." Downstairs, the dining room was a wreck but the staff was well on the way to getting things in order. Sally and Nate offered to help, but the offer was refused. "The way you guys broke her crazy spell was worth the mess," reassured one of the kitchen maids. "I think either this place will be much friendlier from now on, or she'll go out of business. I'll tell you, I've been at the point where I don't even care which of those happens!" "Well, thanks...I think," Sally said. "Merry Christmas, everyone!" "Merry Christmas," came a chorus of replies. Sally couldn't overcome her morbid curiosity entirely. "Just where did she disappear to, anyway?" "I think she's locked herself in her suite, across the way," the kitchen maid replied, pointing at a closed door at the far end of the darkened parlor. "No one wants to confirm that, though!" Through the long drive back to the city, Sally and Nate were in great spirits, and bursting with ideas of just how they would relate the story to her mother, who would no doubt be delighted. They had the story set by the time they arrived back home -- with the exception of just what became of Mrs. Pelletier, since they didn't know. "No point in inventing anything," Sally concluded. "We might as well admit we don't know. It's as poetic as anything that really could have happened." "I guess so," Nate said. "But I'd like to know all the same." "I have a feeling Mom will hear all about it sooner or later," Sally said. She was wrong about that, for although Mrs. Pelletier turned over a new leaf and became much friendlier and more permissive after that night, she was never to tell a soul just why she remained locked in her room well past the time Nate and Sally made their escape. No one -- not even Sally's mother -- was ever to hear of how Mrs. Pelletier had retreated to her bedroom in disgust to find a box of pristine, vintage Matchboxes on her pillow.