They got out of the car and walked toward the barn. Even though neither of them had seen it prior to the renovation, they were both amazed at the sheer magnificence of the structure. What was once a huge shell, empty and desolate, had been transformed into a palace, adorned with wide, glossy, inviting panels of what appeared to be redwood, mixed with great sheath-like glass windows that ran almost the entire length of the three-story building.
Inside, the personality of the structure stood out like the personalities of the people who built it. Like chiffon cakes, it was decorated with soft, pleasant surface colors. The colors, textured furniture, and accompanying artwork of sculptures, paintings and other works were obviously designed to sway the emotions of the attendees. Amid all the modern newness of the decorations was a certain gracefulness the artists had allowed to remain, yet it exuded a peculiar suggestive heaviness, trapping the traditional pride that once housed a family’s past, yet still managing to remain pleasing and graceful.
The first floor was filled with twenty-foot-plus sculptures made of every imaginable type of rock, wood, and even synthetic materials. Each artist was responsible for different sections of each floor. Aaron, the leader and organizer of the group, greeted Carlotta and Miguel as they entered. He was a short, medium-built, tanned man in his late thirties. He was dressed in a cranberry ribbed sweater and black gabardine pants. He wore a black beret over his apparently bald head. “Make yourselves comfortable and enjoy the experience. The food and drinks are on the second floor along with some large screens placed around the floor so you can view some of our animated presentations. The other members of our group are upstairs also. The third floor is strictly paintings by Cameron. It’s not necessarily open to the public; however, should you desire a private tour, either Cameron or Ciao will be happy to take you. All of the works you see here are for sale, including the platforms and stands, as they have also been designed by our group.” With that, Aaron escorted them through the first floor.
Sometimes you can close your eyes, reopen them, and then play “guess what city we’re in.” In many cases, the answer could be any of the major or medium-sized markets around America.
But the people who live and operate in California, especially Los Angeles, have a different look. First of all, the women were all beautiful; outstanding beauties like outstanding gifts. They were dressed in Hollywood clothes. The women wore colors that were as soft as a Mediterranean dawn, or as clear as freshly cut flowers. The clothes fit as if they’d been made for the women who wore them. The men were tailored and frocked like pampered gigolos. And they all looked comfortable, as if they were sleeping on clouds. The animated conversations were basically understated leapfrogging, sparring, and prone to showing off. Yet there was always a smaller number of conversations flowing like cross-winds, and they came like grain spilling from a sack, in bursts of fullness that were shut off in mid-sentence as if someone had closed the sack abruptly and there was more talk inside. Yet the guests moved effortlessly and seemingly unattached.
As Miguel and Carlotta were guided to the bottom of the stairs that led to the second floor, Aaron pointed to a group of two women and three men and said, “Please focus your attention on that lady in the black dress holding court over there. That’s Ciao, our fabric designer and media specialist. You really should speak with her about our projects, because she is the pulse of this creation, if you will. She is the one who convinced us to expand this effort to include America; especially the west coast. She is passionate and full of life and, as you can see, beautiful.”
As they approached Ciao, it was obvious who the dynamo of the group was. Ciao was a peanut-butter-colored lady with short black hair. Like most of the women in attendance, she was also beautiful, actually quite extraordinary, as if she were painted. And as she spoke, people gathered close to hear her. They huddled together like dark grapes clustered on a stalk. Her words tumbled out like coins from a change dispenser and people clung to her every word with rapt attention.
Aaron stood next to Carlotta and Miguel and beamed like a proud father after his child had won a spelling bee as Ciao described the artwork and the renovation of the barn, discussed when the impending art sale was to occur, as well as answered questions tossed her way by the partygoers.
“She is powerful, don’t you think?” His question sounded almost boastful.
Carlotta, who usually restrained her comments about anybody, leaned over and replied, “Powerful and quite stunning.”
Miguel nodded his head in agreement. Rarely did he ever hear Carlotta admire another woman. He didn’t have any problem with it; it was just out of the ordinary.
Ciao began to direct the group. “Upstairs, so you can feast your eyes on the wondrous presentations that await you. This is a treat for all your senses.”
Aaron made eye contact with Ciao and quickly summoned her to them. He hugged Ciao as she came close and introduced her to Carlotta and Miguel. “This is Miguel. He is the writer whom you spoke with on the phone…from the east coast.”
Aaron went on to explain that the couple should be allowed to see everything so that Miguel could write a “good article so that we can illicit more excitement about what we are trying to do.”
Ciao interrupted him as she moved quickly to Carlotta. “My God, what a lovely, dark lady…are you with Miguel?”
Aaron was so intent on getting Miguel and Ciao together, he forgot about introducing Carlotta. But Miguel took the queue. “This is Carlotta. Carlotta, Ciao.”
Carlotta extended her hand. Ciao ignored her hand and moved toward her, opened her arms, and moved to hug her as if she were some long-lost relative. “In Brazil there is none of that handshaking thing. We hug and kiss.” With that, Ciao smiled at Carlotta like an invitation and hugged her close. Surprisingly, Carlotta didn’t resist. Looking at them hug, the contrast of the two women skin to skin was like looking at a pearl laid against black velvet.
“I will take it from here.” Ciao began to lead them upstairs.
“You are now in good hands. So, go, enjoy yourselves. Ciao is at your disposal.” And with that Aaron turned to walk away as Ciao, Carlotta, and Miguel began to make their way to the second floor.
The iron staircase was a gunmetal color mixed with an ornamental grating. It sharply contrasted with the warm, polychromatic designs that appeared on the walls as they ascended to the huge openness of the main exhibit area on the second floor. The entire floor was a massive space of oriental rugs that glowed like gardens of exotic flowers. The walls were a soothing orange/brown, and sheaths of multi-colored cloth strategically hung down from various places on them, flowing as if the ocean outside was beckoning them.
Chandeliers, like so many crystal clouds, hung from the ceiling. It was a mix of traditional and modern that defied any comfortable classification. These artists had transformed their reality into a world of imagination and invited all the guests into it. Sculptures of all different sizes and designs, from simple busts of what appeared to be recognizable public figures and celebrities, to abstract designs that defied definition, filled the space, tantalizing and mesmerizing the senses. It was obvious that their art was as irrational as improvisational jazz. It was mad with its own strange loveliness.
“This is something!” Carlotta exclaimed. “I’ve never seen anything like this in my life.” She was as amazed as Miguel.
Although he’d seen videos of their previous presentations, this exhibit stirred the senses to full life. However, the real-life experience was nearly overwhelming. The combination of colors and textures was absorbing like a love affair, as well as enchanting like a meadow full of freshly opened tulips.
Ciao was equally as enchanting. As she guided them through the corridors of the exhibit, she would stop to introduce herself to the guests and answer any questions they had with her neon-like smile and an almost airbrushed softness that complemented the aura surrounding the entire room. Yet even when she had to avert her attention from Miguel, she always seemed to ke
ep Carlotta close enough to touch. And as the evening wore on, Carlotta appeared to enjoy it.
“She’s fun. I like her,” was Carlotta’s simple explanation to Miguel.
“I like her also. She makes you want to go to Brazil. I wonder if all Brazilians are like that,” Miguel mused.
“I heard that!” Ciao exclaimed as she turned from yet another group. “We are all fun loving, yet very intense. We enjoy life as if each day is our last.” As she stared directly at Carlotta, she said, “That is why we are so hot, so passionate, because the next moment is not promised. That is why we must enjoy all that life has to offer now.” She winked at Miguel.
That wink snapped Miguel out of the trance he had been lured into by the exotic aura Ciao emitted. The three of them walked around the exhibition area as Ciao proudly showed off the various creations. This mixture of sight and sound was rare and entertaining. The fact that he was given the opportunity to write about and help promote one of the most unique artistic events of this early decade gave Miguel a wonderful feeling, like the first moments of falling in love. He was full of questions, and unbridled curiosity ran through his head like horses racing at the Kentucky Derby.
At the same moment Carlotta was also captured by both the aural and sensual menagerie of the moment. She was swept up like the first fallen leaf of autumn. She too was caught up in the magic of being around Ciao. She remained strangely quiet as she observed Miguel questioning Ciao about the exhibit’s wondrous treasures. While she watched intently, like a cat watches a swinging ball waiting for the proper moment to grab it, she started thinking about how when Ciao hugged her, she felt a warmness, a closeness like two roots joined together as they expanded into a single flower. Then it was the feeling she had when Ciao made her statement about Brazilians being passionate and living for the moment. For some reason that statement, coupled with the way Ciao looked at her, excited Carlotta and caused her heart to pulsate thru her chest, like some ancient African talking drum sending a message to another tribe about approaching danger. And now, at this moment, a different excitement was deep inside her, like a desert river flowing under the hot, unforgiving sands.
Ciao’s presence actually caused Carlotta to wonder what it would be like to be even closer to Ciao, closer as in naked. The thought of Ciao’s honey-colored skin pressing hotly against the sea-bottomed darkness of Carlotta’s own skin, as their lips and hands shamelessly introduced themselves to one another, began to warm her body, like large amounts of brandy coursing through the veins.
Yet, at the same time, Carlotta was confused by these feelings. She had never experienced any type of intimate connection with another woman. Even though she and Miguel occasionally discussed what it might be like to bring another woman into their erotic forays, it remained a fantasy. Carlotta did admit, however, that when she either read books or viewed movies that involved women engaging in intimacy, she became aroused. But she couldn’t conceive of any situation where she might become involved in anything like that, even if Miguel wanted her to.
“You know I would do anything you want me to do sexually. But I just can’t see what I would be doing with another woman. I don’t want to do anything to another woman. So I guess I would have to let her do stuff to me. But then I don’t know if I could handle her doing things to you. I just don’t know.”
So that’s where they left it. As far as Miguel was concerned, her response was perfectly acceptable. On occasion, he had fantasized about a ménage à trois, but like Carlotta, this was simply a fantasy. Miguel had participated in a few small orgies during his sexual campaigns, but only on one occasion did he find it satisfying.
“The problem is that the women have to be really into each other as well as you. They can’t have any hang-ups about their bodies or touching each other or any of that.”
Miguel theorized that a specific chemistry, an erotic balance, had to exist between each of the parties or the effort would be wasted.
“See, you can’t have the women avoiding each other, like they can’t be afraid to touch or feel each other’s bodies.” He would claim, “Sometimes the man had to be just an accessory, almost as if he can’t be the main course through the entire sexual meal. It should be natural for the women to kiss, and feel on each other. They don’t have to be lesbians or anything like that. They just should be comfortable with their sexuality, whatever the hell that means.” To him, the women had to be free.
Ciao finished explaining a sculpture to Miguel. As she did she looked over at Carlotta and flashed a slight, slow smile that clung ever so faintly to the edge of her lips. She extended her arm and drew Carlotta to her. Carlotta didn’t resist. The embrace was a side-to-side kind of thing, much as the way friends might do. She gave Carlotta a peck on the cheek, and looked at Miguel.
“All this talk has made me thirsty. Why don’t you go to the bar and get us something to drink? You do want something don’t you, dear?” She nodded her head at Carlotta.
“I want my usual,” replied Carlotta.
“And I will have what she has.” Ciao’s faint smile had developed into one that widened her lips like spreading oil. “We will be here getting better acquainted, okay?”
Carlotta looked comfortable, cozy, and reassured as Miguel left them to go to get the drinks.
The line for drinks was long. For some reason, Miguel was nervous about leaving Carlotta alone with Ciao. After that remark about how attractive Carlotta was to her, it was obvious Ciao was either bisexual or straight-up lesbian. Why would that make him nervous? Was it the fact that he so coveted Carlotta, her body, her soul, her sex, that he was that insecure about leaving her alone at a party with another woman?
“What the fuck, bro?” he began to reason with himself. “I mean, first of all, it’s a party. There are lots of people around, what could they possibly do? Plus she’s one of the hosts, so she can’t devote all her time to Carlotta. Plus you know Carlotta ain’t really into that type of action.” Or is she? Miguel had never been filled with so much doubt and distrust. While the line slowly diminished, he noticed the two women standing in front of him. They were arm-in-arm, laughing. One of them had short dark hair just like Carlotta. And the other one had long dirty-blonde hair just like Ciao. They were laughing, and every now and then they would whisper into each other’s ear and one or the other or both would laugh loudly. They were thin, but not skinny.
Humph! Models, he surmised. They must be friends or something.
Before the thought could fully develop, the blonde who resembled Ciao moved her face closer to the dark-haired one and kissed her full on the lips. At first it seemed as if the other one was a little resistant. But after a little probing the dark-haired one opened her mouth and their lips met in a brief flurry of eroticism that got an immediate rise out of Miguel.
“Girl, you better stop that!” the dark-haired one said as they broke the kiss. Both of them laughed, but began kissing again. This time the kiss was deeper and it appeared their tongues were really probing each other, like they were excavating for something. Their interplay increased until they reached the bartenders. There they abruptly stopped. As they ordered their drinks, Miguel looked around the room trying to see if anyone else was as intrigued with this exchange as he was. As he quickly scanned the room, he noticed people just milling around doing what people do at parties. It seemed as if they were oblivious to what these two ladies were doing in full view of everyone.
They ordered their drinks, leaving Miguel up next. As he prepared to order, up stepped Carlo, one of the architects of the newly renovated building.
“Hey, Miguel.” Carlo had a broad smile on his face and a lovely Latino-looking woman on his arm. Carlo was a tall dark Brazilian with a broad nose and a great wide smile. His friends teased him that he was Pele’s illegitimate son, since he bore a slight resemblance to the legendary soccer star. His companion was a chestnut-skinned woman with shiny, thick, black hair piled on top of her head. She wore a dark blue knit dress that hugged her wide hips.
Like most of the women at this affair she was also a knockout. “Miguel, this is Clarissa. Clarissa, this is the writer I told you about earlier. With his help, he’s going to make us known to the entire artistic community in America. He’s also the boyfriend of Carlotta.”
Clarissa’s smile grew even wider and her eyes seemed to get big as she said, “Oh, yes, that pretty lady who was with Ciao! You should be happy, Miguel,” she went on. “I too would love to be able to have a lady like that to play with like Ciao was doing!”
It must’ve been the puzzled look on Miguel’s face that prompted Carlo to say, “Oh, you must’ve gotten in line long before they started their antics over there!”
Miguel tried to play it off as the butterflies in his stomach began to flutter and take on a life of their own. “Uh…what, er, ah, what do you mean…antics?” he stammered.
“Oh, nothing, really,” Clarissa chimed in before Carlo had the opportunity to explain. “They were just doing a little kissing and flirting with each other when I met your lady. I’m sure it was all just girls playing around in fun,” she concluded.
Miguel was dizzy as he managed a weak “glad to meet you,” got his drinks, and proceeded to make a beeline back to Carlotta and Ciao. The room seemed hazy and surrounded by a London fog as Miguel quickly made his way through the party to where he’d left the ladies. In this fog or mist or whatever it was, Miguel almost dropped his drink as he saw Ciao and Carlotta locked in the same face-to-face, tongue-down-each-other’s-throat action he’d witnessed with those two models in line just a bit ago. He was again amazed at how everyone else seemed to simply drift in and out of the activity of the party, seemingly unaffected by the lusty exhibition going on in their midst.
The ladies’ arms were entangled around each other like ancient serpents in some kind of mythological maze. As he approached, he started asking himself what he was going to do. What could he do? He was almost upon them and he could see it all clearly, his woman and Ciao making out like shameless teenagers in the back of a car in a secluded park. They stopped kissing long enough to look at Miguel and smile.