"Good," he said, nodding. "Come in and meet the other faculty members. Some of the senior students are here as well. Enjoy."
We spent the next half hour examining the artwork on the walls and eating canapés and drinking wine. The art was amazing and varied, everything from abstract works to extreme realism to impressionism.
While Claire spoke with Nial, I stopped and examined a series of works by an S. deVilliers. It was quite dark in content, featuring people in various shabby locations in what I imagined were the slums of Nairobi. Old men sitting on oil bins in front of shacks, their faces weatherworn, and their bodies bony under clothes that were too big. Small children picking through mounds of garbage in the slums outside the city, walking beside rivers of sewage with sticks in their hands. The backgrounds were drab grey, but the colors in the trash were overly bright, almost neon.
I felt someone behind me and thought at first it was Claire.
"Rather grim, isn't it?" a male voice said, the accent sounding slightly British with some kind of twang I couldn't identify.
I turned only to find myself looking into the brown eyes of a tall very handsome man with longish blond hair bleached by the sun, considerable growth of fair whiskers on his very square jaw. He glanced at me briefly and then turned back to the painting, his expression very studious.
"It's dark in subject matter," I said, cocking my head to the side. "But the colors in the trash are so vivid. Like it's purposeful." I pointed to the painting of the children. "Contrasting the darkness of the content with the brightness of the colors. The children's clothes are grey, but the trash is bright, and the sky is so blue behind the mountain of garbage."
"You think it's deliberate? A statement?"
I nodded. "Probably something about consumerism. All the brightly colored packaging from wealthy people's trash, but the people affected are dull. They almost blend into the dirt."
"Are you an art student here?"
I inhaled. "Not yet, but I'd like to take a class. I haven’t registered because I'm too late, but Nial," I said and then thought better of it. "Mr. Mbuno said I might be able to take one of the open studio classes."
"I hope so," he said and I thought there was a hint of something suggestive in the tone of his voice. "Most of the students in the studio classes are older, housewives, seniors. It will be nice to have someone younger."
"You teach here?"
"Yes," he said but before he could introduce himself, he pointed to my collar. "That's a lovely necklace you're wearing. Is it symbolic? Chokers aren't really very fashionable these days. They're mostly from the Victorian era. Or the 60s."
"It was a gift and it is symbolic."
He nodded, waiting for me to explain. "Symbolic of?"
"It's private."
"Ahh," he said and smiled. "From a lover, then."
I nodded without speaking, not trusting my voice.
"Hmm," he said, raising his eyebrows. "A symbolic choker around your neck. From a lover… Are you a submissive?"
I stared at him for a moment, not knowing what to say, my cheeks heating. "A what?" I said finally.
"Never mind," he said, almost under his breath. "It's very lovely. Suits you. Long chestnut brown hair parted in the middle, green eyes and a black choker. Very retro. Very sixties, free love, the Age of Aquarius and all that."
I fingered the choker, wondering why he'd suggest I was a submissive only because I wore a choker. Sure, they weren't in fashion, but still… Then, it struck me. I wore this choker to the dungeon.
A shock went through me. The last thing I wanted was to meet someone from the dungeon, especially around Claire. I decided to try to divert him with a different explanation.
"The diamond is a teardrop. It's in memory of my dead mother."
He raised his eyebrows at that. "Really?"
"Yes."
"You sound American," he said, tilting his head.
"I'm here from Manhattan. With my fiancé, who gave this to me," I added, hoping he wouldn’t get any ideas.
"Hmm," he said and smiled, his eyes half-hooded. "Your fiancé, you say? I guess that means I'll have to stay away. Message received, loud and clear although it's a shame. I think you and I have a lot in common. Is he here?" the man said, glancing around.