Reading Online Novel

A Sip of You(59)



“Where did you find it?” I asked, trying to draw his attention away from my pink cheeks.

“My art consultant found it actually, in a gallery in Santa Rosa. I’ve been looking to build my contemporary photography holdings, and she’s helping with that.” He took another drink of his wine. “When I saw it, I asked about it, and when I realized you were the photographer, I had to have it.”

I was flattered. How could I not be when my work was taking center stage on the living-room wall of a billionaire who had pieces from his personal collection on loan to The Art Institute? But I was still uneasy seeing it here. No matter how firmly I put my life in Santa Cruz in the past, it continued to creep into my present. I was in my new boyfriend’s penthouse, and here was a photograph connected directly to the life I’d left behind. Was I supposed to thank William for buying it? Should I tell him how weird it made me feel? I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but I really wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said. “My aunt has invited us to dinner on Sunday. Would you like to go?”

“Yes!” I said with honest enthusiasm. I forgot the print for a moment and smiled. “I’d love to.”

“Good. I was hoping you’d say yes.”

Why wouldn’t I? I’d been waiting for an opportunity to see William with his family, in a setting where he was more than just the business mogul. I’d met his aunt and uncle and two of his cousins briefly that night at The Peninsula, but I really wanted the opportunity to get to know them a little better. This was also one way I could get to know William better. I wanted to see how he was around the family who’d taken him in, loved him, and raised him to adulthood.

Just then a small Japanese woman entered the living room and bowed formally. She wore a dark red, embroidered kimono and her long black hair pulled into a bun. Despite her traditional dress and slow, deliberate movements, she was young, maybe just a few years older than me. “Dinner is served,” she said in heavily accented English. I guessed she was part of the chef’s entourage.

“Thank you, Midori.” William gestured for me to follow Midori down the hallway to the dining room. No more talk about the print, thank God. Before I could move, he said, “Did you bring your camera?”

“Yes.” I pointed to my bag sitting on a chair.

“Good. Grab it. You’ll need it.”

I had never been in William’s dining room before, and it was very much in the style of the rest of the penthouse—stark, modern, minimalist, and imposing. It almost made me miss the accessible warm luxury of Casa di Rosabela. The ceilings soared, and several large and amazing pieces of art hung on the tall walls. The lights were low, keeping the room from resembling a gallery, and I might have moved closer to study the paintings and the large black sculpture that sat on a pedestal in a corner if I hadn’t been riveted by the dining room table.

The enormous stone table could have easily sat twelve, but only two chairs, placed next to each other, were present. On the table were two women. Initially I thought the food had been arranged so as to give the impression of a woman’s body, but as my eyes adjusted to the light, I realized two live women lay side-by-side, head to foot. One lay on her back and the other on her stomach. Both were totally nude except for the sushi, sashimi, and other delicacies that decorated their bodies.

In all the time I’d been photographing food, I’d never seen anything like this, a display that paired the beauty of food so unabashedly with the raw carnality of sex. The women were stunningly beautiful and the symmetry of their perfect bodies was adroitly complemented by the placement of the colorful food. There was so much to take in—the rolls, the fat salmon- and tuna-draped fingers of rice drizzled and adorned with pops of brightness from avocado and shaved ginger and fish eggs—the whole scene was both visually stunning and beautifully balanced. And sensual. The food had not been displayed to hide the beauty of the women’s bodies. Everything—everything—was on full display.

I couldn’t look at William. I stood stock still, took a deep breath, and kept my eyes glued to the table. After the handcuffs and the blindfolding and the dominance he was showing of late, I didn’t quite know what to expect here. I detected the lure of a darker sexuality and my heart quickened in response, but I prayed he didn’t have some kind of kinky group thing in mind. I wasn’t ready to go there. And why had he asked me to bring my camera?

He must have sensed my uncertainty because I felt his large strong hand on the small of my back. Gently, he guided me forward, leaning down and whispering, “It’s incredible, isn’t it?”