An artist sees something unexpected in a bored woman
This is a Deirdre tribute story first published by me in 1994.
The street fair seemed like a cute idea. It was that kind of neighborhood, the suburbia of green lawns, cats, dogs and kids. I strolled aimlessly through the crowds, basking in the warm ambiance and doing my best to forget Jeff. Being on my own wasn't turning out to be a cakewalk, but it was infinitely better than continued pandering to his whining indecisiveness and adolescent behavior.
I hadn't been planning to actually buy anything, but the sign caught my eye. "Caricatures!" it screamed in vibrant fluorescent colors. "While U Wait -- $10.00." It was an interesting idea, and I did have that empty spot on the wall now, but would it be appropriate for work?
"Hi, Mrs. Thatcher! Thinking of getting your picture done?" It was Tommy Parks, the kid who lived next door and mowed my grass every week. As always, he wore only faded jeans and an equally worn leather belt -- I often wondered what he did at school or during the winter. A few more years and he'd be starring in his own Diet Coke commercials.
I struggled to switch my brain into conversation mode, but he evidently grew tired of waiting. "You gotta get one, they're really cool! Com'on, my mom is the most awesome artist, I'm gonna get one, too!" Bonnie Parks, an artist? She'd always struck me as slightly weird, but I wouldn't have figured her for this. It looked like my input wasn't really needed, anyway. Tommy, apparently convinced I'd agree, had taken me in tow and it was a case of follow or be pulled off my feet.
A trio of giggling girls, drawings in hand, was just clearing the booth as we arrived; they looked happy enough with their purchases. Bonnie looked up as Tom crowed, "Hey, Mom! Mrs. Thatcher wants you to draw her! I told her you'd do a totally awesome one for her!" She smiled, I managed a breathless "Hi!" and plopped onto the chair. Tommy moved to where he could get a view of the easel and tucked his thumbs into his belt.
I thought some light conversation might be in order, but Bonnie just fixed this intense stare on me. I felt like she was looking right through me, and after a few minutes I was feeling distinctly uncomfortable and starting to squirm. Just when I decided something must really have been wrong, she blinked, picked up a pen, and began drawing furiously. Some minutes later she laid the pens aside and began detaching the drawing paper from the easel. A grinning Tommy came to trade spots with me and I walked over to see my picture.
My purse dropped to the ground, and my jaw very nearly with it. I'd expected some cartoonish drawing, but what I was looking at was pornographic! It was me, all right, as perfectly drawn as if I'd been photographed. But instead of sitting in my demure sundress, I was on hands and knees, completely naked! I was facing slightly away, legs spread, and you could see everything! There were some discolored marks on my behind that could have been smudges, and I was looking over my shoulder with a strange expression that for some reason reminded me of Jeff. I looked like a total slut; the picture was a complete distortion of me.
"I thought this was going to be a caricature!" I gasped. Bonnie looked away from her examination of Tommy and favored me with a brief smile. "Oh, but it is, my dear! Anybody can do a physical caricature. But how many artists can capture the real you inside so everyone can see it?" She turned back to her easel and started drawing again. "But I'm not like this!" I objected.
"No, it's perfect," cooed an unfamiliar voice. Some old lady had come up and was looking at my picture! My face flamed and I tried to hide the drawing, but she snatched it right out of my hands! "Bonnie, I swear you get better every year. Don't you think so, Sue?" She was showing it to another lady, who was nodding in agreement! I was sure I'd die of shame, I wanted to run and hide, but I couldn't leave without my picture. Now there was a whole crowd of people, looking and me and Bonnie's drawing!
I could feel me knees trembling when finally Tommy snatched the paper from this girl who couldn't have been more than 10 years old, earning a dirty look from her father, and returned it to me. "You look like you've had a little too much sun, Becky," he said to me, and began tugging on my arm. "That's 'Ms. Thatcher' to you," I chided absently. "Yeah, sure. Hey, you wanna see my picture?" He shoved it in front of my face.
God, another nude drawing. But this one was much different than mine. He stood confidently erect, feet slightly apart, hands on hips, a pose that was immediately familiar. There was a cruel expression on his face, and he was rampantly erect! I felt myself getting wet just looking at it. His penis was huge, it couldn't really be that big... could it? Everything else was drawn so accurately, but a boy wouldn't have one like that... would he? I found myself glancing at his jeans as we walked.
I realized I'd walked through my front door, with Tommy still right behind me. "Can I have my picture back, Becky?" Guiltily, I looked up from the picture I'd been staring at and forced myself to look at his face instead of his crotch. "'Ms. Thatcher,' Tommy." Was there a bulge there? He grinned. "You want to see it, don't you, Becky?" I tried to moisten my lips with a tongue suddenly gone dry.
Casually he unfastened his belt and slowly slid it free of his jeans. He began unbuttoning his fly. "Ah, T-Tommy..." I stammered, then ran out of breath. The pictures and my purse slid from my hands. The picture was accurate. "I think that will be 'Mr. Parks' to you, Becky." My vocal cords seemed paralyzed, but my cunt certainly wasn't. He stepped out of the jeans puddled on the floor, toward me.
"Go on, Becky, you know what to do." I watched him slowly run the leather belt through his hands, then fold it in half. What did he mean? His expression hardened until it matched the one Bonnie had drawn, and he took another step forward. Suddenly I understood. Quickly, I pulled off the sundress and removed my bra and damp panties, then turned and crouched on the floor, breathing heavily. It had never been like this with Jeff.
I clenched my behind, waiting for a blow that never fell, and turned slightly to look over my shoulder. Bonnie was looking at us through the front window. She smiled knowingly, and I felt a wave of heat run through my body and collect in my crotch. Maybe she was a better artist than I gave her credit for. There was only one thing still wrong.
"Please, Mr. Parks?" I whispered. Tommy smiled and raised his belt.