Warhol's Prophecy

42

FOR LONG SECONDS she stood in silence, looking first at the picture-covered walls and then at Walker.

‘You told me earlier you’d done work for both record companies and publishers,’ she said.

‘I have. I’ve submitted work, but they’ve always rejected it,’ he admitted.

‘But, Adam, this stuff is brilliant. I know some of it’s a bit controversial, but it’s great.’

‘I wish everyone else agreed with you.’ He lowered his gaze. ‘I should have come clean. I shouldn’t have lied, but I didn’t want you to think I was a failure. I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. You’re not a failure when you can produce work like this.’ She turned and made an expansive gesture with her hand, designed to encompass the contents of the room.

‘I’m a failure until someone pays me for my work.’

‘But if you haven’t sold any paintings, how do you survive? How do you manage to live here and support yourself?’

‘There’s no mortgage on the house, and I’ve got money in the bank. When my grandmother died, she left me some money. It’s been in a trust fund since I was a child. It keeps me going if I’m careful: the interest is enough to pay for my expenses every month. I just paint every day. I love it. I still submit things to publishers and record companies, and the rejections still keep coming back. But, you never know, one day I might crack it. Perhaps with your help.’

She nodded.

He moved towards one of the sheet-covered canvases, took hold of one corner of the material and gently pulled it free.

‘I did this for you,’ he said quietly.

Hailey stepped forward, eyes widening.

‘Adam, it’s beautiful,’ she whispered.

The painting was of Becky.

Hailey reached out to touch the image. It was perfect. As if her daughter had sat for hours while Walker painstakingly fashioned this portrait.

‘From memory,’ Hailey murmured, still awestruck by the painting.

‘It’s what she was wearing the day she got lost,’ he reminded her. ‘The day I found her.’

Hailey nodded, her eyes drawn particularly to the bright red coat. It was virtually luminous in its brilliance.

‘I hope you don’t mind,’ he said, almost apologetically. ‘I wanted you to have it.’

‘Thank you,’ she murmured, turning towards him.

He smiled. ‘At least someone likes my work. I hope Becky likes it too.’

‘She’ll love it,’ Hailey told him, reaching out to gently brush his cheek with her hand.

As she did so, she stepped forward.

He leant towards her and their lips brushed.

She closed her eyes as they kissed more passionately. Hailey pushed her tongue past the hard white edges of his teeth and stirred the warmth within.

He responded with surprising tenderness, drawing her closer to him, into his arms, kissing her deeply.

When they finally parted, she was breathing heavily, gazing up into his eyes.

‘I want you,’ she breathed and kissed him again.

She felt his erection pressing against her as they clung to each other, and with one hand she squeezed it through the material of his trousers.

Walker groaned as he felt her urgent movements and he allowed one hand to glide up inside her skirt, brushing the smooth flesh of her thighs, his fingertips trailing over her skin with featherlight delicacy.

Hailey parted her legs slightly, allowing him better access.

Wanting him to touch her in that most intimate place.

When his fingers caressed the damp cotton of her panties she gasped aloud, feeling the pressure slowly and gloriously build.

Walker’s touch was expert, teasing. Allowing her excitement to build to even greater heights.

She allowed her head to loll back, allowed him to flick his tongue into the hollow of her throat, and then across to her earlobe.

He pushed her back towards his worktop, closing strong hands around her waist. Lifting her until she was sitting on the edge of it.

She lay back, stretching one leg out before her.

He slipped off her shoe, his gentle fingers stroking her foot, gliding between her toes. Then he dipped his head and took her little toe into his mouth. He sucked it gently for a moment, then moved to the next one, and the next, his tongue now probing where his fingers had been.

Hailey arched her back as she felt that slippery tumescence gliding up the inside of her ankle – then her calf. He paused at her knee, kissing the soft flesh at the rear, and she gasped aloud as he pushed up her skirt and continued to lick his way up her slender leg.

She felt his warm breath between her legs, even through the flimsy, sodden material of her panties.

He kissed her there, tasting her through the cotton.

Hailey lifted her bottom slightly, gripping the edge of the desk with both hands, pushing her pubis towards his eager mouth. Allowing him to slide her panties down her thighs.

Her skirt was up around her waist now.

She opened her eyes as she felt his tongue glide into the slippery wetness of her sex.

The pleasure was exquisite and growing by the second.

When the tip of his tongue slid across the stiff nub of her clitoris, she felt the first unmistakable feelings of warmth spread through her lower body.

She gripped the worktop even more tightly, her breathing now almost uncontrollable.

Hailey pushed herself against his tongue and mouth, her back arching once more as the sensations became stronger.

She turned her head to one side.

The portrait of Becky stared accusingly at her.

What are you doing?

Hailey could feel his tongue working more urgently, playing in and around her swollen vaginal lips and clitoris, as anxious to bring her to a climax as she was to reach one.

No, you can’t do this.

She felt two of his fingers outlining her labia, smearing her moisture through the downy hair of her pubis.

Stop it now. Stop him!

She stared across at the portrait of Becky, and those painted eyes fixed her in a piercing gaze.

No more. This isn’t just betraying Rob. It’s betraying Becky.

The waves of pleasure were building. Her climax was seconds away.

No.

She said it aloud.

‘No,’ she gasped.

For a second, Walker continued with his expert ministrations.

‘No,’ she insisted.

This time she pulled away from him, squirming across the worktop, her face flushed, and flecked with the perspiration of pleasure.

Walker stared at her.

At the expression on her face that had turned from one of pure pleasure to one of

(shock?)

distaste.

‘What’s wrong, Hailey?’ he asked, genuinely concerned.

‘I can’t do this,’ she breathed, pulling up her panties, pulling down her skirt.

He opened his mouth to say something.

‘This isn’t right,’ she said, stepping into her discarded shoe. ‘I can’t.’

Walker was also breathing heavily, his own excitement evident.

‘I’m sorry,’ she told him, and she was already heading for the door.

‘Take the painting,’ he called helplessly, motioning towards Becky’s portrait.

He heard the front door slam.

Heard the sound of her car engine bursting into life.

Walker bowed his head and exhaled deeply.

Almost painfully.