Second Chance for Romance

Chapter 31

Christy was in a good mood after aerobics. She bounced along as we walked out of the Sports Bubble.

“Here, hold this.” She handed me her duffel bag. Then she twirled and walked backward in front of us, until she suddenly ran and leapt into my arms. She wrapped hers around my neck and gave me a long kiss as I carried her down the sidewalk. After about ten feet she hopped down and danced away happily.

We watched her go. I felt like a grown-up watching a toddler chase a butterfly.

“She told me about your call last night,” Wren said after a moment, “and what you talked about after.”

I nodded.

“So you ended it with Gina?”

“Yeah.”

“Is she okay?”

“Gina? Yeah, I think so. She knew it was coming. She’d been thinking the same thing. Still wasn’t easy, though. For either of us.”

“A long-distance relationship is hard to make work,” Trip said.

I nodded. He should know.

“Also, it’s hard to compete with the all-star matchmaker here.”

Wren piped up, “Do I need to remind you that you’ll benefit from it as well?”

“Yes, dear,” he said blandly.

“I’m sorry for Gina, though,” Wren said. “Happy for you and Christy,

but…” She shrugged. “Real people with real lives. Isn’t that what you’ve been telling me?”

I grinned sidelong at Trip. “She can change.”

“Oh, I’ve known all along,” he said. “But next time maybe don’t make her feel so guilty about it. Totally ruins our sex life.”

“I’ll do my best,” I laughed. Then I watched Christy frolic and run back toward us. “God, I can’t wait to get that energy into bed.”

“She’s gonna rock your world,” Wren said with a smirk.

Christy skidded to a halt, apple-cheeked and breathless. “What’s so funny, Mr. I Know That Look In Your Eye?”

“You,” I said matter-of-factly. “I was just saying how I can’t wait to get you into bed.”

Her baby blue eyes flew wide. Then she grinned. “You’ll have to catch me first!” She dashed away.

“Have to catch her first,” I said to the others.

Trip calmly reached out and accepted Christy’s duffel bag from me. He passed it to Wren and slung my backpack next to his own.

“You’re never gonna catch her, dude,” he said.

“That’s okay. I know where she lives.”

He glanced at Wren. “He really is a doofus, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, but we’re stuck with him.”

I gave them a final grin and jogged after Christy. Trip was right, I didn’t have a hope of catching her. She was too light, too quick, too full of energy.

But I’d run her down eventually. And when I did, I’d have fun toying with her until I was ready to eat her.

Christy’s sculpture was ready to come out of the mold that evening. We met Siobhan at the studio, along with punk girl and the tall guy. The heat in the room was stifling. It helped the marble mixture cure faster, but it was a delicate balance. Cure too quickly and the mixture might crack; too slowly and it wouldn’t be ready in time for the exhibition. Fortunately, Siobhan had years of experience with the process.

We used the ceiling-rail winch to turn the entire box over. It weighed several hundred pounds, so it took all of us to keep it stable. One slip and

countless hours of work would turn into large chunks of marble debris. Once we set it on a dolly, I used a hammer and pry bar to detach the base. Then I hauled on the winch and lifted the box off the mold. The sloped sides released the pink material with a soft whoosh.

I pushed the empty box to the side and lowered it to the floor. The three artists ringed the mold like senators around Julius Caesar. Their knives flashed as they moved in for the kill. I laughed to myself at the mental image.

Siobhan joined me and watched silently.

“Thanks for all your help,” she said eventually. Her Irish brogue made her sound like a character from a movie. “She couldn’t have done it without you.”

I nodded silently.

“You’re her muse. I hope you know that.”

“I do.”

“And she’s falling in love with you.” She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “But you knew that too, didn’t you?”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

“I thought it might be. I hope you don’t mind, but I talked to Laszlo…

Professor Joska.”

I looked at her in surprise.

“He says your work shows new passion as well.” She chuckled at my reaction. “We push you hard, but we care about you, our protégés. We like to see you do well.”

“Professor Joska thinks of me as his protégé?”

“Oh, sure. He’s right proud of you, he is.” She leaned close, and her eyes twinkled. “Don’t tell him I told you.”

“I won’t.”

We watched for a while longer, until the three artists had cut away most of the mold material.

The marble sculpture gleamed in the lights from above, but it was studded with tags and ridges where the seams of the mold had been. It also had little pink bits of the stuff where the release agent hadn’t entirely done its job.

“Time to get to work with the tools,” Siobhan said. She handed me a filter mask and safety goggles. “Let’s get to it.”

I donned the gear as the others did the same. Siobhan passed out squishy yellow earplugs as well. I rolled them up and shoved them into my ears. Then I pulled on a pair of leather work gloves and accepted an angle grinder from

punk girl. She looked at me through her goggles and nodded once in tacit approval.

We surrounded the sculpture like a school of alien piranhas. The angle grinders whined and marble dust flew, and we worked for several hours, until almost midnight. Christy had plenty of detail work left to do, and she had a problem to fix where the mold material had torn during casting, but the statue was free of studs, ridges, and mold material.

We stood back and surveyed the sculpture. We were all covered in white marble dust, with flesh-colored patches where the goggles and masks had protected us. We were dirty, tired, and sore, but I’d never seen five happier people in my life.

Christy and I said goodnight and thanked the others. We probably looked like ghosts as we walked home, because neither of us wanted to get our coats dirty with dust. Wren had left us a note on the dining room table.

Hope everything came out okay. Midnight snack in the fridge. It’s only chicken and three-bean salad, but you can eat it cold. Fresh bottle of Jameson in the cupboard. Rémy Martin on the top shelf if you feel like celebrating. Wake us if you need anything. Love you both so much! - Wren

“I don’t know about you,” I said, “but all I really want is a shower and bed.”

“I don’t even care if it’s separate or not. I’m too tired to be a proper young lady.”

“You can say that again.”

“I don’t even care if it’s separate or not,” she repeated with a grin.

“Maybe you’re not so tired after all?”

“I’m tired, not dead.”

We headed upstairs. I threw my dusty clothes in the corner of my bedroom and didn’t bother to cover up as I climbed the stairs to the third floor. I didn’t relish the idea of a cold shower, especially after a cold walk home without my coat, but I didn’t want to deny Christy the hot water.

I showered as quickly as I could, but the marble dust was stubborn stuff. I had to wash my hair twice, and I still felt the fine grit when I ran my fingers through it. I was shivering by the time I finished and dried off. I didn’t even bother to wrap the towel around my waist. I simply threw it over my shoulder

and headed down to the second floor.

Christy’s eyes widened when she opened the bathroom door.

I ignored her and basked in the steam that billowed out.

“Um… did you forget something?”

“Crap! Environmental control. We just let all the heat out of the bathroom.”

“No, I mean something else.”

I glanced down at myself. “You’ve seen it all before.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She shrugged and moved close to the sink.

I stepped behind her and closed the door. Then I spread my towel on the toilet seat.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m just gonna sit here and warm up for a bit.”

Her expression grew concerned when she realized that I was still shivering. My poor penis had retreated as far as it could, and my scrotum looked like a pink walnut. I gasped when I leaned against the porcelain of the toilet tank, but my skin was almost as cold itself.

“I used all the hot water,” Christy said. “Sorry. Can I do anything to warm you up?”

“Sit on my lap?” I suggested.

“Do you wanna cover up with a towel or something?”

“Nah, your bottom’s soft enough. Besides, your towel will keep us honest.”

She rolled her eyes but turned and sat on my lap.

I wrapped my arms around her.

“I’m not poking you with my bony butt, am I?”

“Nope. And I know I’m not poking you.” I pulled her close, and she rested her head on my chest.

“Thanks for all your help,” she said. “Not just tonight, but everything.”

“My pleasure.” I chuckled tiredly and closed my eyes. “It’s really my pleasure now. You’re warm.”

She snuggled closer.

I patted her bottom and rested my other hand on her bare thigh.

She gasped at how cold it was but didn’t push it away. Instead, she kissed my chest and sighed deeply.

“You can say that again,” I mumbled.

She sighed, and I felt her breathing change.

I fell asleep about a minute after she did.

I woke a couple of hours later. Christy was still on my lap. I flexed aching muscles. Then I cradled her in my arms and stood. She sighed but didn’t wake.

Her towel slid open and revealed a tantalizing expanse of thigh and hip. I was tempted to peek at her bush, but I behaved myself. I carried her into her bedroom and laid her atop the bedspread. It was clear of clothes for a change.

I gently pulled it down and then covered her.

“Sweet dreams,” I said, and kissed her forehead.

Then I shuffled down the hall and to my own dreams.