Page 68 of Various Intentions
“Of course. Come along,” Matteo said, leading the two of them to where Drake stood gathering up the rope from a previous demonstration.
I left Charles with Vincent and Matteo, and headed into the crowd to locate Juno. It wasn’t difficult to find them. Not only because, true to form, they had dressed spectacularly for the event, but also because there was a gathering of people around them as they moved from art piece to art piece, speaking to the design and the emotions behind each work.
Daphne caught my eye and rubbed her thumb and index finger together, and when Juno saw me looking, they smiled wide and winked. I waited a few moments until they began to move my way then signaled that I needed to speak to them. They politely detached themselves from the group and approached me.
“Is Charles all right?”
“Yes, he’s fine. I’m having Drake rig Vincent up in some rope. Charles volunteered to join him, but I wanted to check with you first.”
“I’m not his keeper. If he wants to do it, it’s fine with me.”
“All right. I thought I’d check.”
“Well, thank you.” They went to move away, then hesitated and turned back. “Take lots of photos.”
I grinned. “Most definitely.”
By the time I got back to Drake, he was speaking to Vincent and Charles and gesturing with his hands and the rope. They nodded and laughed.
I was so glad we had been able to involve Drake in this event. His shibari skills were outstanding, and he was a genuinely kind and interesting person.
“Hey, Drake.”
“Nic! Great to see you!” He pulled me into a hug. “I see I have two stunning subjects to work with.”
“Yes. I’m expecting something extraordinary.”
“Sure, sure. I’ll see what I can come up with. Why don’t you go mingle and have a drink while I get started. Check back in about twenty minutes.”
“Sounds good. Are you two all right without me staying? Drake is a professional and a friend.”
“It’s fine,” Vincent said. “Do some browsing. We could use another of Juno’s pieces.”
“Good idea. Come on, Matteo. Let’s have a look around.”
While Drake worked on his rope design with Vincent and Charles, Matteo and I grabbed drinks and walked arm-in-arm, speaking to guests and watching some of the demos. I had to admit, the event was going even better than I’d expected.
Cheese, crackers and bite-sized desserts had been brought out for guests to nibble on as they browsed. There were a variety of outfits, ranging from black-tie and cocktail dresses, to jeans and T-shirts, and some people were in kinkier leather ensembles. I loved seeing such a variety of individuals in such distinctive clothes.
We found a painting that we could afford and bought it for the dining room. So every time Juno came to dinner with Charles, they could see what we thought of their talent.
I ran into some I knew and spoke to many I didn’t. I made sure to ask everyone if they’d had a chance to look at the artwork on sale, or whether they were interested in any of the demos. By the time twenty minutes had passed, Matteo and I wandered back to Drake’s spot. A group in front of us broke apart, and I grabbed Matteo’s arm.
“Matteo. Look.”
“Dear God.”
We gaped at Drake’s handiwork, unable to move as we took in the erotic display before us.
Vincent crouched on his knees on a soft red blanket, his legs together, his back straight as he faced the floor, making a kind of table with his torso and head. His arms were stretched out behind him, hands clutching Charles’ shoulders
Charles was splayed over top, his straight back against Vincent’s, with his body inclined and his head downward, almost touching the floor. His legs were bent at the knee and parted so he lay over Vincent’s shoulders, Vincent’s head poking between them as he gazed at the far wall. They were knotted together with black rope in key places to help them maintain the pose.
Charles looked like a sacrifice, his belly exposed and his legs splayed, while Vincent supported him from below—a human pedestal. Charles held onto Vincent’s shoulders, his wrists bound, as they made an erotic scalene triangle—a geometrical masterpiece of muscle and flesh. Drake had blindfolded them with black silk scarves, and they looked like a religious sacrifice.
Drake stood next to them with his hands clasped at his back, standing guard over his vulnerable subjects.
“Wow, Drake,” I said as we moved forward. “That is incredible.”
