Blame Picasso
Well-Known Member
BBW, XWG, Sex, Feeding -- a photographer shows a chubby beauty what she really looks like
Chapter 1
There isn’t much to complain about when you can make your living on your terms doing what you love. Drawing and painting have always been my passion, and now, at 34 years old I had paid my dues working for design companies and was making good money on my own painting beach and surf scenes. My problem on this 90 plus degrees Sunday morning was a power outage at my house, which was also my office. No central air means it was time to go do some research.
Being as it was hotter than hades even at my small home on the Jersey Shore, I decided to take my camera, a small cooler full of fruit and water and my beach chair to Island Beach State Park. I live about two miles from the park gate in Seaside Park, New Jersey, which is a smaller town next to Seaside Heights, which is where the Jersey Shore assholes of MTv infamy stay for an excruciating month each summer.
For the record, the show is called Jersey Shore because that is where it is filmed; the assholes are from North Jersey and New York and are chosen for that show because they are outrageous and stupid. Us locals have a name for people from North Jersey and New York who come down to the shore for the sun and clubs: BENNYs. The show was originally supposed to be called BENNYs but some officials thought offending BENNYs would hurt shore businesses. That's crap. They’d come anyway and drink too much, start fights and be assholes just like they always do.
BENNY stands for Bergen (County, North Jersey) Edison (A town in North Jersey) Newark, and New York. “BENNY Go Home” is our mantra from Memorial Day to Labor Day each summer. I even have a bumper sticker saying “BGH” pasted on the fender of my beach cruiser bicycle that I ride everywhere around the shore. If I’m not crossing the bridge off island, I don’t use my car. Also just for the record, I am a New York Giants fan, I love Manhattan, and I usually find New Yorkers and people from North Jersey, friendly, nice, and entertaining. There are a select few that irritate me in my hometown.
September is Heaven for us locals, the water is balmy and warm, the weather is generally nice for three or four more weeks, and the BENNYs are GONE. We have our town and our beaches back. Unfortunately, my story begins on July 1st, the BENNYs were everywhere, but at 9:00am on this particular Sunday, the beach was pretty much empty. Most of the shore visitors were still sleeping off their club prowl from the night before.
I sat myself away from the several other early birds close to the water, but not so close that I’d be in any danger of getting flooded by a large wave. I took out my camera and shot a few pictures of the morning sun glinting off the waves. I popped a bottle of water out of my cooler and had some cut up mango for breakfast. I went for a swim, keeping my eyes on my spot and my bag that held my cell phone and camera in particular from the water. No one went near my stuff, there must be an unwritten code somewhere that you do not fuck with anyone’s stuff at the beach because in all the years I’ve come to any beach in New Jersey, Florida, Hawaii, South Carolina and California, and I have NEVER been ripped off. Knock on driftwood.
At 10:00 the lifeguards show up and for some silly reason they get everyone out of the water for a minute when they go on duty. Whatever, I walked back up to my spot, pulled out a beach towel out of my bag and spread it out in front of my chair. I then lied down and let the sun dry my tanned body. I was no gym rat, but biking, surfing, and walking have kept me a toned 185 pounds. Considering I sat at a drawing table or a painting easel for a living, I was in good shape.
I guess I dozed off for a while because there were a lot more people in the water and around me on the beach when I woke up. The waves had gotten a little bigger and there were boogie boarders all over the place. I turned on my towel and laid on my stomach so I was facing the water and I got my camera back out. I laid a towel over my head so just the lens was exposed and I scanned for painting worthy subjects. To anyone near me, I was still napping with a towel covering my head and shoulders.
I had a pretty good zoom lens so I could focus on people pretty far out as though they were right in front of me. Skinny guy catching a pretty good ride on his boogie board? Click. Teenaged girl in a bikini doing a handstand in the surf? Click. Fat tourist standing in knee-deep water? Classic. Click. I wanted the situations and the rough physical references; the finished work would not resemble any of these people so I didn’t need releases or anything. If anyone asked, I was shooting for my Jersey Shore memories scrapbook. Sneaky? Yeah, maybe, but screw you.
Gang of children gathering seashells? Golden. Click. Wait a minute, pale, chubby redhead in a white and gray bikini? Her long hair blowing in the wind as she walked into the surf? Click. Click. Click. I sat up and blatantly took a dozen more pictures, she turned and looked up the beach to my left and I got several close ups of her face. She was gorgeous. She had green eyes and freckles (I told you I had a pretty good lens). With my luck she would be looking up the beach for her boyfriend to join her. I glanced in the direction she was looking and saw a short, chubby blonde in a black and pink one-piece wave and head in her direction.
I snapped a few more photos of her and stowed my camera back in my bag. I grabbed one of my business cards and I was walking toward the water before I had a chance to think about what I was doing. I got to her even before her friend did.
“Hi!” I said with a big smile. “My name is Jay, I’d like to make you an offer.”
“Really?” She asked dubiously and smiled shyly. “What offer would that be…Jay?”
I handed her my card.
“I’d like to put you on the cover of a magazine, an art gallery, and a website that gets over 500,000 hits a month.” I replied coolly.
She looked deep into my eyes for a moment, then down at the business card that was in her hand. I had smaller, 2 x 3 inch cards I used for formal meetings, but situations like this and cold calls required the full color post card that had samples of my work on both sides that she was studying now.
Her friend caught up to us by now and the three of us stood in water up to our knees with waves splashing up to our thighs.
“This is really you?” The redhead asked. Blondie peered at what she held and gave me a quizzical look. “I’ve seen your stuff in Board Baby’s in Beach Haven.”
“Yes, I’m Jay Anderson. I paint for a few surfing magazines and stuff like that. Are you a local?”
“Bayville, but you want to paint…me?” She asked like I was from Mars.
“A chubby redhead with zero tan who has never been on a surfboard in her life.” She added sarcastically.
“Who’s filling that bikini like it was put on this planet for her.” I finished looking her in the eyes calmly. She was speechless and her friend was still staring at the card.
“My name is Stephanie.” She said finally. “I think you’re insane, Jay.”
“Come sit by me and let’s talk, if I can’t talk you into posing for me, perhaps I can talk you into dinner?” I said pointing up the beach at my chair and blanket.
Stephanie looked to her companion who kind of shrugged and gave Stephanie a look that I interpreted as ‘he’s okay.’ Ten minutes later they were settled in beside me in the sand.
“Would I get paid?” Stephanie asked as she looked out at the waves.
“I pay $500 dollars.” I lied, I really wanted to paint this woman…and get to know her better.
“That doesn’t seem like much.” Stephanie said.
“To be honest, I’ve never paid a model in my life.” I admitted. “As you can see from my artwork, it gets pretty abstract.”
“Then why offer me money?’ She asked looking over at me.
“I really want to paint you…and get to know you to be honest.”
Stephanie was quiet. Carol, her sister, was either asleep or pretending to be as she lied on the other side of Stephanie on her beach blanket.
“Is the offer of dinner still on the table if I say no?” Stephanie asked after a couple of minutes.
“Absolutely, tell me when.” I replied with a grin.
She smiled at me.
“Then keep your $500 bucks. I’d be happy to model for you anyway.” She said. “How’s tomorrow night for dinner?”
I was speechless for a quick second. “Tomorrow night is fantastic. Anywhere you want…but I will admit I am a great cook and I would love to make you a home cooked meal.”
“You cook?” Stephanie asked and her eyebrows rose. “That sounds like a date.”
I stayed another hour and she let me photograph her for a few minutes as she stood in the water. I decided poor Carol was being ignored as Stephanie and I got to know each other. I took my leave; I left Stephanie my address and told her what to look for on her way home because she would pass my house anyway.
I rode my beach cruiser back to my house and stopped at the wrought iron gate in front of my driveway. I opened it and pedaled down one of the dirt grooves created by my car’s tires to the old-fashioned barn style garage. I opened the door on the left and put my bike on the workshop side of the two-car garage. My 2003 Durango occupied the other side.
I grabbed my gear and walked out across seashell shaped pavers in the thick, soft grass to the sliding glass door that led into my ground floor living room. Inside had cooled down, the power had come back on and the central air had kicked on automatically. All my clocks were blinking 2:06. The power had been back on for just over two hours.
I walked through the living room to the laundry room and dumped my towel. I stepped out of my damp swimsuit and walked back through the living room and dining area into my kitchen naked. My couch separated the living room from the dining room; a counter facing the back of the house separated the kitchen. I put my water bottle and the Tupperware container that held my mango in the sink and went down the hall toward the front door. To the left of the door were a staircase that led up to the master bathroom, two small guest bedrooms I kept ready for family and friends who visited the beach.
I stopped off in my bedroom, grabbed a pair of worn out but clean, blue sweat pants and ducked into the master bathroom for a shower. The master bathroom was pretty large and it had a skylight directly over the Jacuzzi tub. I had a separate glass shower stall and I turned the water on hot and stepped in to wash the beach off of my body.
My bedroom faced the front of the house and through a set of French doors I had a small balcony with a tiny table with a sun umbrella and a couple of chairs. I contemplated going and sitting out front, but I was afraid Stephanie would drive by on her way and think I was sitting out front to stalk her. I know, probably a silly thought, but I’m a cautious guy.
Besides, I had a better option. I glanced in the mirror over my dresser, my hair is not long, but it was kind of unruly. I ran my hand through it and padded through the hallway past the two guest rooms set on either side and turned past the one on the right and headed up to the third floor.
The stairs ended in my studio. I had windows on three sides of the large room that dominated half of the top floor and two more French doors that opened out on my back deck. I had installed a small room with a toilet and sink to the left of the doors. I stepped out onto a deck that took up the other half of the third floor. I had a large round glass table with an umbrella and six chairs on the right with two large panels of white fencing to keep the area private. On the left was my pride and joy. A huge tiki bar with a thatch roof and seating on two sides of the bar for six people sat waiting for me. Inside I had a small refrigerator and I grabbed an ice-cold bottle of water and took my spot at a stool inside the bar. Miniature surfboards, tiki’s and other tropical trinkets hung from the beams that held the thatch rook on. A cool ocean breeze blew through. The other houses on the street behind me and next to me were two stories and I could see the ocean from my vantage point.
I had brought my camera up with me and I plugged it into a laptop I kept on the bar when I wasn’t entertaining guests. I downloaded the pictures I took that day and opened IPhoto. I opened all the shots I took and was pleased I had four good painting ideas without the shots of Stephanie I took. I quickly cropped all the photos I wanted and made a few slight adjustments to the lighting on a couple more before I selected them all and hit print. The large, commercial quality printer in my studio hummed to life and I heard the paper being selected to print.
A couple of minutes later I got up and went in to retrieve 23 8x10” photos. I glanced at all of them before laying the 21 shots I took of Stephanie on the counter before me.
I selected one of her walking out of the surf with a wave crashing at her knees as she faced the camera and went back into my studio. I left that photo a couple of shots I had taken of her and Carol sitting on the beach that I promised to give her out and slid the rest into a folder. I selected a large piece of ¼ inch board I had prepped for paint out of a large rack on the wall and placed it on my painting easel. I started sketching her from the photo with a long, thin, piece of charcoal.
I awoke at noon the following day in my bed. I rubbed my eyes and leapt out of bed. I was excited, but I needed coffee. My coffee pot had a timer and I had set it to start brewing at 11:00 am. A full, hot pot of coffee awaited me when I got down stairs. I grabbed the pot and a container of half and half out of the refrigerator and headed back upstairs.
I walked all the way up to my studio. I averted my eyes from my easel and walked out onto the back deck. It was a good thing no one could see me up here, I slept naked and I regularly come out here and enjoyed my coffee fully nude. I had no tan lines. I set the pot on a small hotplate on the bar and turned it on. I grabbed sugar from behind the bar and a plastic spoon. Within a few seconds my coffee was ready and I took the steaming mug back inside my studio. I took a few tentative sips, blew on it to cool it a bit and took a larger drink.
Now I was ready. I stood back and looked at the painting that stood before me. A stylized version of the photo I took was completed. The figure that was Stephanie was a little smaller in the bosom, and wider in her hips. The bikini I painted was identical to the one she had worn. Water crashed around her in whites, blues, and yellows. A wave arose behind her in yellows and greens. Her red hair blew about her head and was set off by the contrast of the greens water. Sunlight sparkled in oranges and yellows on the ocean and the sky was a pale, hazy blue with wisps of thin clouds.
I had worked from the time I sat and drew her until almost 3:00 am with only a brief break to eat dinner at 8:00 pm last night. She was finished and she was awesome if I do say so myself. I set down my coffee and picked up my paint palette. I always looked at a painting with fresh eyes the next day to ensure it was in fact finished. This one definitely was so I took a thin brush from a jar beside the easel and dipping it in a bit of orange I had used for the sky, I signed J.Anderson 2012 in my barely legible signature.
I took the paining off the easel and set it out on the deck leaning against the railing before I took my coffee to the tiki bar and sat staring it.
“Man she’s beautiful. I whispered as I admired her. I was still naked and I noticed I had a raging hard on.
An hour later I had showered, placed the painting of Stephanie against a wall inside and I was sketching the photo I had taken of the fat man sitting on his chair in the surf on another large board prepped for painting.
My goal was to have four paintings in addition to Stephanie’s finished by Friday afternoon so I could set up my camera and lighting to photograph all of them to send to my agent and the guy who took care of my website. I already had 1o paintings sitting against my walls ready to shoot. Then, unless I was really inspired, I could take the rest of the summer off except for a few promotional trips to music and surf events around the country. Those fifteen paintings would net me about 2,000 dollars a piece.
My phone beeped as I was about to start painting a couple of hours later. It was Stephanie. ‘Have you started my painting?’ She texted.
‘Already finished.’ I texted back.
‘No way!...exciting!!’
I thought of the raging erection I had gotten looking at it. You have no idea I thought to myself, but I just texted back ‘Lol’
‘I can’t weight to c it!’
I looked at the text for a minute. She was a schoolteacher in a small town across the bay from where I lived. Surely that was an odd misspelling. I ignored it before responding: ‘U will c it tonight.’
‘Awesome…7:00?’
‘C U then.’ I replied and she did not text again. I put my brushes down and went into the bathroom to wash the charcoal off my hands. I went down and started preparing the sauce for my special lasagna for Stephanie’s dinner.
At 7:00 I was standing out on the sidewalk beside my opened gate waiting for her to arrive. She had texted me at 6:40 that she was leaving her house in Bayville.
I chatted with my neighbor next door as she was walking her annoying little yap yap dogs. Her name was Grace and she was close to 80 years old I figured. Stephanie pulled up and I waved her into the gate. Grace looked at me with a smile.
“Oh, she’s pretty.” I smiled and walked through the gate, closing it behind me. Stephanie had parked in front of the garage and she was getting out of her car by the time I reached it.
“Hey there.” I said with a grin. “You look lovely.” I added. She did. She wore a light, sea green sundress that accentuated her curvy figure and made her red hair stand out. She was very tan from the day before at the beach and she wore a pair of cute flip-flops. She wore little makeup and to my surprise she gave me a little kiss on the cheek and light embrace.
“Hi!” She said and her eyes sparkled.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
“Starving.” She replied and I guided her to the glass door and into the house. The lasagna was ready, but I left it in the oven to keep warm.
“Cocktail first?” I asked.
“Do you have wine?” She asked setting her small bag down on the couch.
“I do.” I replied. “Shall we go up and have them on the deck?”
“Oh that sounds great, it’s so beautiful out.”
It was a bit cooler than yesterday and the humidity had dropped quite a bit with a brief storm that had blown through that afternoon while I was painting.
I guided her through the house all the way up to my studio. Once she saw my work area she whirled around.
“Ooh, where’s my painting?” She asked with big, excited eyes.
“Later.” I said with a grin and took her elbow gently as I walked toward the glass doors.
“Oh my, this is amazing!” She marveled when she saw the bar and the table I had already set. I had blue and green Christmas lights strung through the rafters of the tiki bar roof. Candles burned in small holders on the railing and the deck…no fire was allowed by the tiki bar’s thatch roof.
Stephanie sat at a swivel chair by the bar; I went in took a bottle of Merlot from the wine rack.
“I like this room temperature…would you like ice?” I asked.
“I’m not a heathen.” She replied with a smile. I poured us each a glass and sat beside her.
“Do you mind if I smoke?” She asked with that look all smokers get these days when asking that question.
“Not at all. I smoke cigars occasionally with my friends, I’m not a smoke Nazi.” I leaned over the bar and produced a crystal ashtray.
I’ll paraphrase most of our conversation before and during dinner. It was the usual getting to know each other conversation. I told her I had been pretty much unattached since the Christmas before last. I had been engaged and shortly after that holiday season I realized I was marrying a girl I had little interest in, but she was pretty and perfect and everyone had expected me to settle down i.e. my mother, so I was taking the plunge.
My best friend Joe and I had been drinking a bottle of rum one night between Christmas and New Years and out of the blue he simply asked me why I was marrying a boring, self centered, materialistic woman such as Jane? I didn’t have an answer for him. The following day I was sober and I still didn’t have an answer. Two days later was the day before New Years Eve and I sat downstairs on my couch with Jane and ended our engagement. I was never so certain in my life that I was doing the right thing even as she completely melted down in front of me. Jane is now married to the very next guy she dated and we are no longer friends.
As I mentioned earlier, Stephanie is a teacher in a small school in a small beach community on the bay. Last year she had moved back in with her parents following a nasty breakup with a fiancé. She had dated a few guys since then, so I wasn’t afraid of being a dreaded rebound boyfriend. I had dated a few girls myself, so I was open to whatever the future had in store for us.
We were well into our meal by the time she was finishing up her romantic history. She grew quiet for a moment before she casually. “I guess I had a hard time after the breakup…and my mother is a very good cook.”
I looked up at her face and she kind of smiled awkwardly and just shrugged. I inclined my head a bit because my mouth was full, but I had no idea what she meant.
“I…put on quite a bit of weight.” She said with a laugh.
“I’ve lost quite a bit but I still have a way to go.” She added and looked down at her plate.
I was quiet. I was not very comfortable with where the conversation suddenly took us. I didn’t know what to say. Before I could stop my self I simply said. “I think you look great.”
She of course rolled her eyes. I was stuck. I…have a thing for bigger girls. Part of why I couldn’t figure out why I was marrying Jane was the fact that she was a fitness freak and was completely obsessed with how she looked and how other people saw her. I had already gone on as much as was prudent about Jane, I wasn’t going to bring her up again. Suddenly it dawned on me. I got up quietly, wiping my mouth with my napkin and smiling at Stephanie. I quietly went inside my studio. I was glad I gave her the seat looking out over the ocean because she didn’t see me coming back out.
I cleared my throat quietly and she turned around and saw the painting I did of her held out before me.
“Oh my!” She exclaimed and her hands went to her face. She stared at the image for several moments before she looked up at me. Her eyes were moist.
“I’m guessing here…but you…like it?” I asked tentatively.
“I love it, it’s so beautiful.” She got up and carefully hugged me tightly so as not to brush against the painting.
I hugged her back and then her mouth was on mine and her tongue was deep in my mouth. We kissed for a very long time before we slowly separated and she looked at me sheepishly. “I’m sorry, that was sudden…”
“That was amazing.” I said with an equally sheepish grin as I set the painting aside and we sat to finish our dinner. I left the painting against the bar where we could both see it. I considered getting the photograph I used as reference for the painting but decided against it. I didn’t want her comparing her image to my creative license.
“That is how I saw you on the beach yesterday, and it’s how I see you now,” was all I said regarding her weight or body issues. Her eyes were still shiny, but her smile was beaming.
“So, what are you going to do with it?” She asked.
“I already took a picture of it with my cell phone and sent it to my agent, the art director and the editor of New Jersey magazine.” I said proudly. “It’s going to be the cover of the September issue.”
Stephanie dropped her fork. Her mouth was open and she stared at me, then the painting.
“You weren’t just giving me a pick up line about putting me on a magazine cover…” She whispered.
“Oh that was totally a pick up line.” I said smugly. “But I backed it up.”
Stephanie burst out laughing and I chuckled as well.
We finished our meal and she helped me take the dishes down to the kitchen and clean up. While I was loading the dishwasher Stephanie walked around the house looking at the various artworks. Paintings and prints by myself, my friends, and other artists I admired hung on the walls. When we were done we went back up to my studio and I showed her some of my other works.
Stephanie noticed that I named my paintings.
“What are you going to call my painting?” She asked, her eyes going back to the painting I had moved back into my studio and set on an easel.
My eyebrows went up and I shrugged. “Stephanie, of course.” I said plainly.
I smiled as her face lit up and she was beaming again. Stephanie asked me many questions about how my paintings made it to postcards and magazines. I explained that once a month or so I set up a lighting rig and I photographed whatever paintings or drawings I had done that month and with a high-resolution camera. They then went to printers, my agent’s files, my own files, and to my website developer and blogger. Stephanie laughed at the fact that I had a blogger, but I explained I had 15,000 followers and there was no way I could or wanted to keep up with the questions, requests for art and fan posts.
“You pay someone to post for you?” She asked.
“I have an assistant, or an intern I guess. No pay, he works for college credits. His name is Tommy.” I explained.
“He’s young, he’s still in college. He comes by a couple of times a week and takes notes on what I’m working on, maybe he’ll take a photo or two of stuff in process and he keeps the throngs of my fans happy.” I added with a grin.
“I figured you’d have a sexy young girl doing it.” Stephanie asked with a sideways glance.
“Oh no!” I said with a laugh. “I went that route a couple of times and it ended badly.”
“Then it’s smart you figured that out.” She said.
“Not really.” I replied. “Tommy’s gay.”
Stephanie roared at that.
“It’s cool.” I said quickly. “He doesn’t like guys my age.”
I kind of regretted that as soon as I said it.
“Well he can’t be much younger than me, I’m 24.” Stephanie said. “How old are you?”
“Tommy’s 20, I’ll be 34 the end of this month.” I replied casually. “Do you mind an older guy?”
My heart was pounding all of the sudden.
“You seem so much younger.” Stephanie replied. “But no, I don’t care.”
To prove that she didn’t care, she crawled over from where she sat on the floor looking at various prints to where I sat against the wall and once again our mouths met and our tongues flirted with each other.
We kissed much longer this time as we slid to lie on the floor. Stephanie lied on top of me. I was acutely aware of her large breasts pressing against my chest and I had to fight the urge to slide my hands down her back to her wide behind that her thin summer dress was clinging to. I rubbed her back as we kissed instead. Her hands played with my hair and caressed my face and chest. I was painfully aware that I had developed an intense erection. Her thigh slid over my hard cock a few times but she made no noticeable reaction.
Stephanie slowly drew back after a long while and looked me in to my eyes. “I would like to see you again.”
Her hair hung down in my face, it smelled of jasmine. She chewed her bottom lip nervously.
“I would like that very much.” I whispered back.
“Then I should go now.” She said slipping out of my arms and sitting up on her heels. “I don’t want to…go too fast with you.”
“I would love to go too fast with you.” I said softly. “But I think you’re…special, and I want to do this right.”
Stephanie smiled at my response and slowly stood. I got up and took her hand. Her purse was on my drawing table, she grabbed it and we walked downstairs.
Continued...
The Girl On the Beach
By Blame Picasso
By Blame Picasso
Chapter 1
There isn’t much to complain about when you can make your living on your terms doing what you love. Drawing and painting have always been my passion, and now, at 34 years old I had paid my dues working for design companies and was making good money on my own painting beach and surf scenes. My problem on this 90 plus degrees Sunday morning was a power outage at my house, which was also my office. No central air means it was time to go do some research.
Being as it was hotter than hades even at my small home on the Jersey Shore, I decided to take my camera, a small cooler full of fruit and water and my beach chair to Island Beach State Park. I live about two miles from the park gate in Seaside Park, New Jersey, which is a smaller town next to Seaside Heights, which is where the Jersey Shore assholes of MTv infamy stay for an excruciating month each summer.
For the record, the show is called Jersey Shore because that is where it is filmed; the assholes are from North Jersey and New York and are chosen for that show because they are outrageous and stupid. Us locals have a name for people from North Jersey and New York who come down to the shore for the sun and clubs: BENNYs. The show was originally supposed to be called BENNYs but some officials thought offending BENNYs would hurt shore businesses. That's crap. They’d come anyway and drink too much, start fights and be assholes just like they always do.
BENNY stands for Bergen (County, North Jersey) Edison (A town in North Jersey) Newark, and New York. “BENNY Go Home” is our mantra from Memorial Day to Labor Day each summer. I even have a bumper sticker saying “BGH” pasted on the fender of my beach cruiser bicycle that I ride everywhere around the shore. If I’m not crossing the bridge off island, I don’t use my car. Also just for the record, I am a New York Giants fan, I love Manhattan, and I usually find New Yorkers and people from North Jersey, friendly, nice, and entertaining. There are a select few that irritate me in my hometown.
September is Heaven for us locals, the water is balmy and warm, the weather is generally nice for three or four more weeks, and the BENNYs are GONE. We have our town and our beaches back. Unfortunately, my story begins on July 1st, the BENNYs were everywhere, but at 9:00am on this particular Sunday, the beach was pretty much empty. Most of the shore visitors were still sleeping off their club prowl from the night before.
I sat myself away from the several other early birds close to the water, but not so close that I’d be in any danger of getting flooded by a large wave. I took out my camera and shot a few pictures of the morning sun glinting off the waves. I popped a bottle of water out of my cooler and had some cut up mango for breakfast. I went for a swim, keeping my eyes on my spot and my bag that held my cell phone and camera in particular from the water. No one went near my stuff, there must be an unwritten code somewhere that you do not fuck with anyone’s stuff at the beach because in all the years I’ve come to any beach in New Jersey, Florida, Hawaii, South Carolina and California, and I have NEVER been ripped off. Knock on driftwood.
At 10:00 the lifeguards show up and for some silly reason they get everyone out of the water for a minute when they go on duty. Whatever, I walked back up to my spot, pulled out a beach towel out of my bag and spread it out in front of my chair. I then lied down and let the sun dry my tanned body. I was no gym rat, but biking, surfing, and walking have kept me a toned 185 pounds. Considering I sat at a drawing table or a painting easel for a living, I was in good shape.
I guess I dozed off for a while because there were a lot more people in the water and around me on the beach when I woke up. The waves had gotten a little bigger and there were boogie boarders all over the place. I turned on my towel and laid on my stomach so I was facing the water and I got my camera back out. I laid a towel over my head so just the lens was exposed and I scanned for painting worthy subjects. To anyone near me, I was still napping with a towel covering my head and shoulders.
I had a pretty good zoom lens so I could focus on people pretty far out as though they were right in front of me. Skinny guy catching a pretty good ride on his boogie board? Click. Teenaged girl in a bikini doing a handstand in the surf? Click. Fat tourist standing in knee-deep water? Classic. Click. I wanted the situations and the rough physical references; the finished work would not resemble any of these people so I didn’t need releases or anything. If anyone asked, I was shooting for my Jersey Shore memories scrapbook. Sneaky? Yeah, maybe, but screw you.
Gang of children gathering seashells? Golden. Click. Wait a minute, pale, chubby redhead in a white and gray bikini? Her long hair blowing in the wind as she walked into the surf? Click. Click. Click. I sat up and blatantly took a dozen more pictures, she turned and looked up the beach to my left and I got several close ups of her face. She was gorgeous. She had green eyes and freckles (I told you I had a pretty good lens). With my luck she would be looking up the beach for her boyfriend to join her. I glanced in the direction she was looking and saw a short, chubby blonde in a black and pink one-piece wave and head in her direction.
I snapped a few more photos of her and stowed my camera back in my bag. I grabbed one of my business cards and I was walking toward the water before I had a chance to think about what I was doing. I got to her even before her friend did.
“Hi!” I said with a big smile. “My name is Jay, I’d like to make you an offer.”
“Really?” She asked dubiously and smiled shyly. “What offer would that be…Jay?”
I handed her my card.
“I’d like to put you on the cover of a magazine, an art gallery, and a website that gets over 500,000 hits a month.” I replied coolly.
She looked deep into my eyes for a moment, then down at the business card that was in her hand. I had smaller, 2 x 3 inch cards I used for formal meetings, but situations like this and cold calls required the full color post card that had samples of my work on both sides that she was studying now.
Her friend caught up to us by now and the three of us stood in water up to our knees with waves splashing up to our thighs.
“This is really you?” The redhead asked. Blondie peered at what she held and gave me a quizzical look. “I’ve seen your stuff in Board Baby’s in Beach Haven.”
“Yes, I’m Jay Anderson. I paint for a few surfing magazines and stuff like that. Are you a local?”
“Bayville, but you want to paint…me?” She asked like I was from Mars.
“A chubby redhead with zero tan who has never been on a surfboard in her life.” She added sarcastically.
“Who’s filling that bikini like it was put on this planet for her.” I finished looking her in the eyes calmly. She was speechless and her friend was still staring at the card.
“My name is Stephanie.” She said finally. “I think you’re insane, Jay.”
“Come sit by me and let’s talk, if I can’t talk you into posing for me, perhaps I can talk you into dinner?” I said pointing up the beach at my chair and blanket.
Stephanie looked to her companion who kind of shrugged and gave Stephanie a look that I interpreted as ‘he’s okay.’ Ten minutes later they were settled in beside me in the sand.
“Would I get paid?” Stephanie asked as she looked out at the waves.
“I pay $500 dollars.” I lied, I really wanted to paint this woman…and get to know her better.
“That doesn’t seem like much.” Stephanie said.
“To be honest, I’ve never paid a model in my life.” I admitted. “As you can see from my artwork, it gets pretty abstract.”
“Then why offer me money?’ She asked looking over at me.
“I really want to paint you…and get to know you to be honest.”
Stephanie was quiet. Carol, her sister, was either asleep or pretending to be as she lied on the other side of Stephanie on her beach blanket.
“Is the offer of dinner still on the table if I say no?” Stephanie asked after a couple of minutes.
“Absolutely, tell me when.” I replied with a grin.
She smiled at me.
“Then keep your $500 bucks. I’d be happy to model for you anyway.” She said. “How’s tomorrow night for dinner?”
I was speechless for a quick second. “Tomorrow night is fantastic. Anywhere you want…but I will admit I am a great cook and I would love to make you a home cooked meal.”
“You cook?” Stephanie asked and her eyebrows rose. “That sounds like a date.”
I stayed another hour and she let me photograph her for a few minutes as she stood in the water. I decided poor Carol was being ignored as Stephanie and I got to know each other. I took my leave; I left Stephanie my address and told her what to look for on her way home because she would pass my house anyway.
I rode my beach cruiser back to my house and stopped at the wrought iron gate in front of my driveway. I opened it and pedaled down one of the dirt grooves created by my car’s tires to the old-fashioned barn style garage. I opened the door on the left and put my bike on the workshop side of the two-car garage. My 2003 Durango occupied the other side.
I grabbed my gear and walked out across seashell shaped pavers in the thick, soft grass to the sliding glass door that led into my ground floor living room. Inside had cooled down, the power had come back on and the central air had kicked on automatically. All my clocks were blinking 2:06. The power had been back on for just over two hours.
I walked through the living room to the laundry room and dumped my towel. I stepped out of my damp swimsuit and walked back through the living room and dining area into my kitchen naked. My couch separated the living room from the dining room; a counter facing the back of the house separated the kitchen. I put my water bottle and the Tupperware container that held my mango in the sink and went down the hall toward the front door. To the left of the door were a staircase that led up to the master bathroom, two small guest bedrooms I kept ready for family and friends who visited the beach.
I stopped off in my bedroom, grabbed a pair of worn out but clean, blue sweat pants and ducked into the master bathroom for a shower. The master bathroom was pretty large and it had a skylight directly over the Jacuzzi tub. I had a separate glass shower stall and I turned the water on hot and stepped in to wash the beach off of my body.
My bedroom faced the front of the house and through a set of French doors I had a small balcony with a tiny table with a sun umbrella and a couple of chairs. I contemplated going and sitting out front, but I was afraid Stephanie would drive by on her way and think I was sitting out front to stalk her. I know, probably a silly thought, but I’m a cautious guy.
Besides, I had a better option. I glanced in the mirror over my dresser, my hair is not long, but it was kind of unruly. I ran my hand through it and padded through the hallway past the two guest rooms set on either side and turned past the one on the right and headed up to the third floor.
The stairs ended in my studio. I had windows on three sides of the large room that dominated half of the top floor and two more French doors that opened out on my back deck. I had installed a small room with a toilet and sink to the left of the doors. I stepped out onto a deck that took up the other half of the third floor. I had a large round glass table with an umbrella and six chairs on the right with two large panels of white fencing to keep the area private. On the left was my pride and joy. A huge tiki bar with a thatch roof and seating on two sides of the bar for six people sat waiting for me. Inside I had a small refrigerator and I grabbed an ice-cold bottle of water and took my spot at a stool inside the bar. Miniature surfboards, tiki’s and other tropical trinkets hung from the beams that held the thatch rook on. A cool ocean breeze blew through. The other houses on the street behind me and next to me were two stories and I could see the ocean from my vantage point.
I had brought my camera up with me and I plugged it into a laptop I kept on the bar when I wasn’t entertaining guests. I downloaded the pictures I took that day and opened IPhoto. I opened all the shots I took and was pleased I had four good painting ideas without the shots of Stephanie I took. I quickly cropped all the photos I wanted and made a few slight adjustments to the lighting on a couple more before I selected them all and hit print. The large, commercial quality printer in my studio hummed to life and I heard the paper being selected to print.
A couple of minutes later I got up and went in to retrieve 23 8x10” photos. I glanced at all of them before laying the 21 shots I took of Stephanie on the counter before me.
I selected one of her walking out of the surf with a wave crashing at her knees as she faced the camera and went back into my studio. I left that photo a couple of shots I had taken of her and Carol sitting on the beach that I promised to give her out and slid the rest into a folder. I selected a large piece of ¼ inch board I had prepped for paint out of a large rack on the wall and placed it on my painting easel. I started sketching her from the photo with a long, thin, piece of charcoal.
I awoke at noon the following day in my bed. I rubbed my eyes and leapt out of bed. I was excited, but I needed coffee. My coffee pot had a timer and I had set it to start brewing at 11:00 am. A full, hot pot of coffee awaited me when I got down stairs. I grabbed the pot and a container of half and half out of the refrigerator and headed back upstairs.
I walked all the way up to my studio. I averted my eyes from my easel and walked out onto the back deck. It was a good thing no one could see me up here, I slept naked and I regularly come out here and enjoyed my coffee fully nude. I had no tan lines. I set the pot on a small hotplate on the bar and turned it on. I grabbed sugar from behind the bar and a plastic spoon. Within a few seconds my coffee was ready and I took the steaming mug back inside my studio. I took a few tentative sips, blew on it to cool it a bit and took a larger drink.
Now I was ready. I stood back and looked at the painting that stood before me. A stylized version of the photo I took was completed. The figure that was Stephanie was a little smaller in the bosom, and wider in her hips. The bikini I painted was identical to the one she had worn. Water crashed around her in whites, blues, and yellows. A wave arose behind her in yellows and greens. Her red hair blew about her head and was set off by the contrast of the greens water. Sunlight sparkled in oranges and yellows on the ocean and the sky was a pale, hazy blue with wisps of thin clouds.
I had worked from the time I sat and drew her until almost 3:00 am with only a brief break to eat dinner at 8:00 pm last night. She was finished and she was awesome if I do say so myself. I set down my coffee and picked up my paint palette. I always looked at a painting with fresh eyes the next day to ensure it was in fact finished. This one definitely was so I took a thin brush from a jar beside the easel and dipping it in a bit of orange I had used for the sky, I signed J.Anderson 2012 in my barely legible signature.
I took the paining off the easel and set it out on the deck leaning against the railing before I took my coffee to the tiki bar and sat staring it.
“Man she’s beautiful. I whispered as I admired her. I was still naked and I noticed I had a raging hard on.
An hour later I had showered, placed the painting of Stephanie against a wall inside and I was sketching the photo I had taken of the fat man sitting on his chair in the surf on another large board prepped for painting.
My goal was to have four paintings in addition to Stephanie’s finished by Friday afternoon so I could set up my camera and lighting to photograph all of them to send to my agent and the guy who took care of my website. I already had 1o paintings sitting against my walls ready to shoot. Then, unless I was really inspired, I could take the rest of the summer off except for a few promotional trips to music and surf events around the country. Those fifteen paintings would net me about 2,000 dollars a piece.
My phone beeped as I was about to start painting a couple of hours later. It was Stephanie. ‘Have you started my painting?’ She texted.
‘Already finished.’ I texted back.
‘No way!...exciting!!’
I thought of the raging erection I had gotten looking at it. You have no idea I thought to myself, but I just texted back ‘Lol’
‘I can’t weight to c it!’
I looked at the text for a minute. She was a schoolteacher in a small town across the bay from where I lived. Surely that was an odd misspelling. I ignored it before responding: ‘U will c it tonight.’
‘Awesome…7:00?’
‘C U then.’ I replied and she did not text again. I put my brushes down and went into the bathroom to wash the charcoal off my hands. I went down and started preparing the sauce for my special lasagna for Stephanie’s dinner.
At 7:00 I was standing out on the sidewalk beside my opened gate waiting for her to arrive. She had texted me at 6:40 that she was leaving her house in Bayville.
I chatted with my neighbor next door as she was walking her annoying little yap yap dogs. Her name was Grace and she was close to 80 years old I figured. Stephanie pulled up and I waved her into the gate. Grace looked at me with a smile.
“Oh, she’s pretty.” I smiled and walked through the gate, closing it behind me. Stephanie had parked in front of the garage and she was getting out of her car by the time I reached it.
“Hey there.” I said with a grin. “You look lovely.” I added. She did. She wore a light, sea green sundress that accentuated her curvy figure and made her red hair stand out. She was very tan from the day before at the beach and she wore a pair of cute flip-flops. She wore little makeup and to my surprise she gave me a little kiss on the cheek and light embrace.
“Hi!” She said and her eyes sparkled.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
“Starving.” She replied and I guided her to the glass door and into the house. The lasagna was ready, but I left it in the oven to keep warm.
“Cocktail first?” I asked.
“Do you have wine?” She asked setting her small bag down on the couch.
“I do.” I replied. “Shall we go up and have them on the deck?”
“Oh that sounds great, it’s so beautiful out.”
It was a bit cooler than yesterday and the humidity had dropped quite a bit with a brief storm that had blown through that afternoon while I was painting.
I guided her through the house all the way up to my studio. Once she saw my work area she whirled around.
“Ooh, where’s my painting?” She asked with big, excited eyes.
“Later.” I said with a grin and took her elbow gently as I walked toward the glass doors.
“Oh my, this is amazing!” She marveled when she saw the bar and the table I had already set. I had blue and green Christmas lights strung through the rafters of the tiki bar roof. Candles burned in small holders on the railing and the deck…no fire was allowed by the tiki bar’s thatch roof.
Stephanie sat at a swivel chair by the bar; I went in took a bottle of Merlot from the wine rack.
“I like this room temperature…would you like ice?” I asked.
“I’m not a heathen.” She replied with a smile. I poured us each a glass and sat beside her.
“Do you mind if I smoke?” She asked with that look all smokers get these days when asking that question.
“Not at all. I smoke cigars occasionally with my friends, I’m not a smoke Nazi.” I leaned over the bar and produced a crystal ashtray.
I’ll paraphrase most of our conversation before and during dinner. It was the usual getting to know each other conversation. I told her I had been pretty much unattached since the Christmas before last. I had been engaged and shortly after that holiday season I realized I was marrying a girl I had little interest in, but she was pretty and perfect and everyone had expected me to settle down i.e. my mother, so I was taking the plunge.
My best friend Joe and I had been drinking a bottle of rum one night between Christmas and New Years and out of the blue he simply asked me why I was marrying a boring, self centered, materialistic woman such as Jane? I didn’t have an answer for him. The following day I was sober and I still didn’t have an answer. Two days later was the day before New Years Eve and I sat downstairs on my couch with Jane and ended our engagement. I was never so certain in my life that I was doing the right thing even as she completely melted down in front of me. Jane is now married to the very next guy she dated and we are no longer friends.
As I mentioned earlier, Stephanie is a teacher in a small school in a small beach community on the bay. Last year she had moved back in with her parents following a nasty breakup with a fiancé. She had dated a few guys since then, so I wasn’t afraid of being a dreaded rebound boyfriend. I had dated a few girls myself, so I was open to whatever the future had in store for us.
We were well into our meal by the time she was finishing up her romantic history. She grew quiet for a moment before she casually. “I guess I had a hard time after the breakup…and my mother is a very good cook.”
I looked up at her face and she kind of smiled awkwardly and just shrugged. I inclined my head a bit because my mouth was full, but I had no idea what she meant.
“I…put on quite a bit of weight.” She said with a laugh.
“I’ve lost quite a bit but I still have a way to go.” She added and looked down at her plate.
I was quiet. I was not very comfortable with where the conversation suddenly took us. I didn’t know what to say. Before I could stop my self I simply said. “I think you look great.”
She of course rolled her eyes. I was stuck. I…have a thing for bigger girls. Part of why I couldn’t figure out why I was marrying Jane was the fact that she was a fitness freak and was completely obsessed with how she looked and how other people saw her. I had already gone on as much as was prudent about Jane, I wasn’t going to bring her up again. Suddenly it dawned on me. I got up quietly, wiping my mouth with my napkin and smiling at Stephanie. I quietly went inside my studio. I was glad I gave her the seat looking out over the ocean because she didn’t see me coming back out.
I cleared my throat quietly and she turned around and saw the painting I did of her held out before me.
“Oh my!” She exclaimed and her hands went to her face. She stared at the image for several moments before she looked up at me. Her eyes were moist.
“I’m guessing here…but you…like it?” I asked tentatively.
“I love it, it’s so beautiful.” She got up and carefully hugged me tightly so as not to brush against the painting.
I hugged her back and then her mouth was on mine and her tongue was deep in my mouth. We kissed for a very long time before we slowly separated and she looked at me sheepishly. “I’m sorry, that was sudden…”
“That was amazing.” I said with an equally sheepish grin as I set the painting aside and we sat to finish our dinner. I left the painting against the bar where we could both see it. I considered getting the photograph I used as reference for the painting but decided against it. I didn’t want her comparing her image to my creative license.
“That is how I saw you on the beach yesterday, and it’s how I see you now,” was all I said regarding her weight or body issues. Her eyes were still shiny, but her smile was beaming.
“So, what are you going to do with it?” She asked.
“I already took a picture of it with my cell phone and sent it to my agent, the art director and the editor of New Jersey magazine.” I said proudly. “It’s going to be the cover of the September issue.”
Stephanie dropped her fork. Her mouth was open and she stared at me, then the painting.
“You weren’t just giving me a pick up line about putting me on a magazine cover…” She whispered.
“Oh that was totally a pick up line.” I said smugly. “But I backed it up.”
Stephanie burst out laughing and I chuckled as well.
We finished our meal and she helped me take the dishes down to the kitchen and clean up. While I was loading the dishwasher Stephanie walked around the house looking at the various artworks. Paintings and prints by myself, my friends, and other artists I admired hung on the walls. When we were done we went back up to my studio and I showed her some of my other works.
Stephanie noticed that I named my paintings.
“What are you going to call my painting?” She asked, her eyes going back to the painting I had moved back into my studio and set on an easel.
My eyebrows went up and I shrugged. “Stephanie, of course.” I said plainly.
I smiled as her face lit up and she was beaming again. Stephanie asked me many questions about how my paintings made it to postcards and magazines. I explained that once a month or so I set up a lighting rig and I photographed whatever paintings or drawings I had done that month and with a high-resolution camera. They then went to printers, my agent’s files, my own files, and to my website developer and blogger. Stephanie laughed at the fact that I had a blogger, but I explained I had 15,000 followers and there was no way I could or wanted to keep up with the questions, requests for art and fan posts.
“You pay someone to post for you?” She asked.
“I have an assistant, or an intern I guess. No pay, he works for college credits. His name is Tommy.” I explained.
“He’s young, he’s still in college. He comes by a couple of times a week and takes notes on what I’m working on, maybe he’ll take a photo or two of stuff in process and he keeps the throngs of my fans happy.” I added with a grin.
“I figured you’d have a sexy young girl doing it.” Stephanie asked with a sideways glance.
“Oh no!” I said with a laugh. “I went that route a couple of times and it ended badly.”
“Then it’s smart you figured that out.” She said.
“Not really.” I replied. “Tommy’s gay.”
Stephanie roared at that.
“It’s cool.” I said quickly. “He doesn’t like guys my age.”
I kind of regretted that as soon as I said it.
“Well he can’t be much younger than me, I’m 24.” Stephanie said. “How old are you?”
“Tommy’s 20, I’ll be 34 the end of this month.” I replied casually. “Do you mind an older guy?”
My heart was pounding all of the sudden.
“You seem so much younger.” Stephanie replied. “But no, I don’t care.”
To prove that she didn’t care, she crawled over from where she sat on the floor looking at various prints to where I sat against the wall and once again our mouths met and our tongues flirted with each other.
We kissed much longer this time as we slid to lie on the floor. Stephanie lied on top of me. I was acutely aware of her large breasts pressing against my chest and I had to fight the urge to slide my hands down her back to her wide behind that her thin summer dress was clinging to. I rubbed her back as we kissed instead. Her hands played with my hair and caressed my face and chest. I was painfully aware that I had developed an intense erection. Her thigh slid over my hard cock a few times but she made no noticeable reaction.
Stephanie slowly drew back after a long while and looked me in to my eyes. “I would like to see you again.”
Her hair hung down in my face, it smelled of jasmine. She chewed her bottom lip nervously.
“I would like that very much.” I whispered back.
“Then I should go now.” She said slipping out of my arms and sitting up on her heels. “I don’t want to…go too fast with you.”
“I would love to go too fast with you.” I said softly. “But I think you’re…special, and I want to do this right.”
Stephanie smiled at my response and slowly stood. I got up and took her hand. Her purse was on my drawing table, she grabbed it and we walked downstairs.
Continued...
