Heartsong (Logan 2)

I took a deep breath, crawled through the opening, and started up and out of the wave. As I rose, my heart began to pound, my legs picked up the trembling that had begun in my fingers, and I held my breath.

"Keep your eyes open," he ordered.

I swallowed and moved another inch or two, still not revealing my breasts. He waited, his drawing pencil in his hand.

"Come up," he instructed. "That's it. Good, good."

And there I was before him. He stared a moment. I felt the crimson color in my neck and face. It was as if Kenneth had walked over and run his brush over my skin. After what seemed like an hour, Kenneth nodded. If he noticed, he didn't mention my blushing.

"Just turn a bit to your right and then, if you can, pull your shoulders back a little. Lift your chin and concentrate on the ceiling. Don't be too stiff. Relax."

"I'm trying," I said.

"I know. Easy. That's it. Good. All right. Let's start with this pose first," he said and began;

Whenever I shifted my eyes to glance at him and see what sort of expression he had on his face, I saw only the same intense scrutiny I had seen before. There was no look of appreciation and none of disapproval. The total neutrality of his eyes, his lips, his entire being surprised and then annoyed me. I jerked my shoulders back.

"Getting tired?" he asked without taking his eyes from his paper.

"A little."

"Just a few more minutes and we'll take a short break. I think I have the curve I want and the lift in your head. Yes, this will work. This is it," he said.

"What about the rest of me?" I asked sharply.

He just nodded and kept working. It amazed me that I had been right when I told Cary an artist was like a doctor when he looked at a woman. I had expected more than this--this impersonal artistic eye.

"You're perfect," he finally declared as he stepped back and looked at me. "You're just what I wanted, what I needed."

"Really?"

"There's this innocence about you, this freshness in your body that makes the statement," he said.

"Statement?"

"My statement. Beauty emerging, the birth."

"Oh."

"Okay, let's do some more." I groaned, but he didn't pay attention. After another twenty minutes or so, he put down his pencil.

"You can take a rest. I want to map out some of this on the marble. I'm getting this faster than I thought I might," he declared proudly.

"Then I'm doing well as your model?" I fished. "Outstanding."

I stood there, still undressed, facing him, waiting for him to look at me differently, to smile differently, to step up to me and take me in his arms, to kiss me long and deeply, my naked breasts turned into him, waiting.

Instead he went straight to his cold marble block and left me dangling in my own imagination. I didn't bother putting my bra back on. I slipped into my sweatshirt without it. Then I came up beside him, hoping he might still turn and look at me as a woman instead of a model, an object of love instead of an object of art.

"If you'd like to get some fresh air, take Ulysses for a walk on the beach," he suggested. "I might be a while."

"Fine," I said sharply, sharper than I had intended, but he didn't appear to notice. I don't think he even heard me. I started for the door and Ulysses got up as quickly as he could to follow.

"Come along, Ulysses. I can always count on your wanting to be with me at least," I said loud enough for Kenneth to hear.

"What's that?" he said after a moment.

"Nothing. I'll be right back."