“She will meet you in ten minutes. Would you like a tea, coffee or water?” The girl asked.
“Water will be good, thanks.” He replied.
“Sparkling or still?”
“Tap water will be fine, thanks.”
He got up from the nubuck leather couch and walked towards the loft style gallery area. All the walls were filled with tasteful paintings except a space at the far corner, hung an empty frame, it looked a bit out of place.
“Your tap water is over there by the couch, but she is ready to see you now, if you are ready?” The girl approached him.
“Ah sure sure. After you.”
He was led to a small but functionable meeting room decorated with neutral toned modern furniture. It had a view of the Wooloomooloo Finger Wharf. He was left there to admire the view. There were cyclists and joggers. He was a little bit surprised to see them exercising in mid-morning. He turned around to the sound of the door being opened. Her hourglass body was hugged by a black knee length A-line dress, her siren red stilettos made an undeniable statement.
“Apologies for running late. I hope you got a chance to look at the gallery.” She turned around to close the door. He had a full view of her back. A metal zipper ran full length of the dress, leading his eyes to her toned and well-defined calf muscles.
To him, she looked like a queen of the night, mysterious and arousing. He quickly interrupted his own thought by thinking about the sweaty cyclist and joggers he saw earlier on.
“OK, I am all yours.” She walked back to him.
“You what?” He couldn’t be sure what he heard.
“I am all yours. No interruptions.” She said again and sat down while gesturing him to do the same.
His face turned red. He sat down and avoided eye contact before he gathered himself. “Oh, of course. I was surprised to get the call about this meeting. What I means is that I am flattered. You know I am only a start-up artist. I had my first exhibition and only sold one painting, to my grandfather.” He laughed a self-inflicted sarcastic laugh.
“I was once a new kid on the block. It’s understandable that you donât consider your first exhibition successful because you didnât sell many paintings. The mission of my gallery is to give emerging artists a platform to showcase their work and get a start in this highly bias and competitive market. I saw a few of your paintings sent to me by my curator. Sheâs right, your work is fresh and unique. I want to purchase the one titled âThe Forgottenâ and display in my gallery. I hope you see the frame I chose for it. Say no if you donât think the frame works.”
“Ah my God! I donât know what to say. Thank you! Thank you! For giving me a chance, a head start. Oh my God. Is this happening?”
She let out a string of laughter. “Donât thank me. You earned it. Your work is niche, and I love niche.” She looked into his moistened eyes, “get out of here before I change my mind. Leave your account detail before you leave so youâll get paid. I evaluated the painting and had a price in mind. You can say no to the offer, but I think youâll be happy with my offer.” She winked at him before he quickly exited the room in case his tears of joy fell.
He left his account detail with the girl at the front desk. She processed a payment straight away and gave him a printout of the transaction record. He was stunned by the high price of his first legitimate sale.
“She wants to take you out for dinner to discuss more business. Here are the available time slots, which one should I book you in?” The girl asked.
Dinner?!!! Didnât mind the business bit. His primal instinct was giving him an erection, for some strange reason. Not strange, itâs her curves and the siren red stilettos. He picked a time slot that was the soonest.
Flicker of Thoughts 