Evening at the Art Gallery


"Explain to me once again why you dragged me here."

Sabrina DeLane Chandler sighed dramatically and pulled him away from the sign. "Because this is your gallery, Adam."

"Yes, well I bought this when I thought Stuart might like somewhere to showcase his paintings," he complained. "How was I supposed to know that he would rather keep that tiny little place of his instead?"

The frown which creased the brow of the sophisticated multi-millionaire did not detract from the handsome figure he cut. Dressed in an immaculately cut Armani tuxedo, Adam Chandler was the epitome of wealth. Dashing good looks and seductive charm only added to his aura.

"Look at this." He pointed in disgust to a gaily decorated trash bin which was priced at five thousand dollars. "Five thousand dollars?!" His outraged whisper turned the heads of several potential customers.

"You're right, darling," Sabrina added loudly. "That is a steal!" Fiercely she whispered in his ear. "You are going to end up stuck with that if you aren't more careful. Behave!" She took pity on her husband. "Let's get away from all this for awhile."

She led Adam through all the little shortcuts she had come to know. They walked past the various displays. At one point he stopped abruptly before a blank canvas hung crookedly on the wall before him. "The Wind," he snorted, reading the small plate below the empty canvas. "What the devil kind of mind comes up with stuff like this?"

"Keep your voice down, Adam," Sabrina chided. Secretly, she agreed with his outraged question. "These are the up-and-coming young artists who have a unique vision of what art is." She managed to utter the sentence with a straight face.

"Well," Adam muttered looking around the room, "these people are more like delegates at a convention for the weird and demented. Is anyone here over twenty-five?"

Sabrina tugged at his hand and led him away. Adam continued to mutter under his breath even as she unlocked the door to a small hallway. She paused to lock the door behind them, then pulled him just into an empty room. Sabrina wrapped her arms about his neck and kissed him passionately.

"What was that for?" he asked. "Not that I am complaining, mind you."

"You needed a distraction." His new bride wiped the lipstick from his mouth. "Did it work?"

A half-smile curved Adam Chandler's lips. "Not quite. You had better try again."

Sabrina placed a finger against his lips to halt his kiss. "That's just what I had in mind." She led him to the far side of the room.

Adam watched the gentle sway of her hips as she turned back to switch on the lights. He blinked momentarily as the room was flooded with luminance from the spotlights aimed his way. Everything else was then forgotten as he watched Sabrina glide sensually toward him.


Prospective art patrons browsed the gallery of offerings. Ninety-nine percent were young and wealthy, many without any concept of true art. Some of those present would make a purchase because they saw some item they truly liked. Others would buy because it was "the thing" to do.

As the crowd wandered aimlessly about, their attention was drawn nearby. Across the room, a translucent wall was suddenly bathed in light. Some of the avant garde assemblage watched with mild interest as the silhouette of a male figure appeared. The image was crisp and distinct, like a hand puppet upon the wall.

"Performance art," a bored looking young woman sniffed knowingly before draining her champagne glass.

The male silhouette was soon joined by an obviously female figure. Nearly the same height, she pulled the man's head to hers. Their outlines joined in a long kiss. The crowd could see distinctly as the man's hands began to roam down the woman's back. A titter of laughter sounded when they came to rest on her full, rounded behind. Their two silhouettes seemed to merge into one.

Little by little, the crowd of watchers grew. Intrigued, they sipped their expensive drinks and watched as the female figure pulled back from her companion and backed away. It was not difficult to decipher her movements. She turned and allowed him to unzip her clothing. As they followed the movement of the man's arm, those watching could almost hear the lazy hum of the metal as he slowly drew it down. In a blur, her dress fell puddled at her feet.

Suddenly, all the men assembled stared at the shapely outline with rapt attention. A masculine gasp of appreciation rippled through the crowd. With the woman's side to the crowd, they could see her perfectly formed outline, right down to the taut nipples of her breasts.

"Implants," one woman uttered to another.

There was utter silence from the gathering as the woman walked forward. Her hands moved to her companion's chest before blazing a leisurely trail down his body. Based on their stopping point, the crowd did not require much imagination to picture what her hands now cupped. As they watched, she undid his belt. The loose ends dangled unmoving as the male silhouette stood quietly.

The collective gasp now came from the female guests as clearly, the outline of an impressive erection appeared. It strained upward and was at least several inches in length. A small crowd of women pressed closer to the translucent wall.

"Fake," one man muttered aloud.

The sound of air whistling through clenched teeth could be heard as the female silhouette reached out and began to stroke the erect outline. Several women shifted their feet uncomfortably, while an equal number of men nonchalantly placed their hands within their trouser pockets.

The guests began to down their champagne almost desperately. By now all gazes were fixed upon the tableau before them. A slow collective exhalation of breath was heard as the man lifted his female companion's thigh and placed it high upon his hip. The two silhouettes became one.

The crowd stood transfixed as the woman's head fell slowly back and her male companion kissed her exposed throat. Slowly, gently, their bodies moved in rhythm.

Imperceptibly, the movement of their bodies hastened. The rapt observers could almost see the veins standing out in the man's neck as he strained for completion; could almost see the woman's fingers as they dug into his shoulders in ecstasy. Their heads bowed, the two clung to one another until they simultaneously threw their heads back and grew stiff.

In time, the single silhouette became two once more. The crowd cleared their throats. As the two *performers* began to fix their clothing, raucous applause echoed throughout the gallery.


Adam spun in shock at the sound of the deafening applause. Staring at the milky wall beside him, he felt realization dawn. He turned to see his new wife grinning broadly. "Sabrina!" he hissed.

Sabrina was unrepentant. "Relax, my love. All they saw was shadows." She wiggled her eyebrows. "But, oh what shadows!"

Adam laughed at her brazenness. "I love you, Mrs. Chandler."

"Prove it," Sabrina challenged. "Our audience wants an encore."