In The Garden Of Snakes (An Erotic Summer Tryst) by Virginia Wade

albeit silently. “The subject matter is different, that’s
why.”
    “It shouldn’t be.” She stared at my portrait.
“He likes you.”
    “You keep saying that.”
    “I think he wants to fuck you.”
    I gasped, “Carmen!”
    “He painted you like somebody would paint
their lover.”
    Her observations produced little tingles in
my tummy. She was confirming what I had secretly been hoping. “It’s
just a painting.”
    “No.”
    “I gotta shower and have lunch.”
    She shrugged. “I should be jealous.”
    I pushed her gently. “Stop it. You’re being
so weird.”
    “I can feel it. When I came in here earlier,
there was a total sex vibe going on between you.”
    “That’s not true.”
    She nodded. “I know you pretty well, Jess;
maybe even better than you know yourself. I know my dad too. He’s
totally interested.”
    This conversation was disturbing. I had to
deflect the situation. “Let’s go back to the house.”
    Her eyes watered unexpectedly. “I hate that
I’m gonna have to share you. It sucks.”
    “That’s ridiculous. It’s just nude modeling,
and he’s married.”
    “They haven’t been intimate in years.”
    This bit of information was stunning. “How do
you know that?”
    “Like, hello. I live with them. I know.”
    “Well, I gotta eat something. I’m
starving.”
    Our conversation had my mind spinning, and,
as we headed for the house, a strange anticipatory energy raced
through me. I had felt an immense attraction towards Joseph today.
He had always affected me strangely, even as a child. I couldn’t
help feeling that I was on the edge of something immense and
possibly dangerous. My emotions churned and roiled, like a boat on
a stormy sea. My insides were in turmoil, and the weather mimicked
me, the clouds gathering throughout the afternoon, the moisture
hanging in the air. Before the guests arrived, the skies opened and
a torrential downpour accompanied by thunder, shook the house; the
flashes of light outside were almost blinding.
    I posed before a mirror, eyeing my outfit. “I
love this dress.”
    “It looks amazing on you,” murmured Carmen.
She’d worn a light blue gown with see-through sleeves ending at the
wrists. The bodice was low-cut, exposing her modest cleavage. A
white mask hid her eyes. “You’re gorgeous, Jess. I’m totally
jealous.”
    I’d found a black velvet dress in the back of
a closet. The formfitting outfit skimmed over every curve.
“Thanks.” I felt almost naked in the soft, utterly comfortable
material. My breasts were pressed upwards; the swell of my cleavage
was substantial. I planned to hide behind the mask all night. It
was the only way I was going to have the courage to go out in
public looking like this.
    “Pictures. We gotta take pictures.” She held
a cellphone. “Smile.”
    I posed for her. “Gimme that. It’s my turn.
Take your mask off. I can’t see you.”
    “Too bad.”
    “Dork.”
    “Come on. Let’s party!”
    A sea of colorful costumes greeted us
downstairs. Most women wore cocktail dresses, while a few had
adorned themselves in ball gowns. Everyone hid behind a mask, and
it was fun guessing who was who. Abby and Madison had on frilly,
pretty dresses with silly masks. Roberta looked like she had
stepped out of a scene from Gone With the Wind . A band
played music, while couples danced. I drank champagne, as did
Carmen, and we hung out with Sonya and Christian, who wore a Phantom of the Opera costume. He looked handsome in his
white and black mask.
    “I thought I recognized you,” said Constance.
She wasn’t wearing a mask. “You look lovely, Jessica.” Her eyes
skimmed over me, pausing on my breasts. “You’ve blossomed,
actually. What a difference a couple of days makes.”
    Her gown was form-fitting and low-cut. “I
love your dress, Mrs. Hollander.”
    “Thank you.” She squinted into the crowd.
“And here comes my husband. I hear you’re his latest model.”
    This was awkward. “Y-yes. I am.”
    “You