Cast Adrift: The Portraits

*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

**Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-check. You have been forewarned; expect to find Miss Steaks.

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Delilah Roberts was bored; she did not care for the music the hired piano player and violinists were playing, did not care for large groups, did not feel like engaging in stilted, pretentious chit-chat with the guests. But when William Carter, her immediate supervisor at Tri-Carter had invited her to his house-warming party, she could not think of a plausible excuse so came to the uncomfortable gathering.

Idly, she wandered around, admiring William's, or William Carter's interior decorator's taste in décor. The furniture was soft, muted, comfortable. The art work, however was bold, colorful, attention-grabbing.

In a hallway between a ground-floor bathroom and two bedrooms, Delilah paused in front of a framed piece. The recessed lighting seemed to be focused onto the garish, jarring portrait of a nude red head.

Smiling softly, Delilah tugged at her own knee length carrot orange hair. The interior decorator had kept with the décor; the painting was framed in a neutral colored wooden frame, allowing the jarring, unsettling portrait to hold the viewer's eye.

Even in the soft lighting, Delilah recognized the piece as being a Barron Blouchen original. The numeral 8 with a vertical line bisecting the 8 in the lower right corner of the painting verified that it was indeed a Blouchen. The model's eyes were haunting, beautiful and Delilah stared at the canvas for a moment.

"That, that's beautiful; you think it's an original?" a soft voice breathed into Delilah's ear.

Delilah could sense that the owner of the voice had stepped very close to her, invading her personal space. The voice had been in Delilah's left ear. Suddenly, a small hand rested on Delilah's right hip. And for some reason, Delilah could not brush the intrusive hand away.

"I, it, I'm pretty sure it is," Delilah said, pointing to the artist's signature in the lower right hand corner of the canvas.

"Oh, oh yeah, I see it now," the soft voice tittered, her breasts now rubbing against Delilah's back.

"It really is beautiful. It's a Barron Blouchen. I've seen a few others of his. He somehow manages to show raw, almost tragic images but makes them beautiful," Delilah opined.

"Mm hmm," the voice agreed and reached her bare left arm over Delilah's shoulder to trace the model's garish smile, almost a grimace with her fingernail.

When the stranger reached over Delilah's shoulder, Delilah could smell the unmistakable aroma of the woman's sweat. It was not an unpleasant scent, but it was strong, earthy.

"I, don't, please don't go anywhere; but I really have got to tinkle," the voice begged.

Suddenly, Delilah felt a soft pair of lips brush her cheek and turned in surprise. She caught a fleeting glimpse of waist-length whitish blonde hair and leopard print bustier before the bathroom door shut.

Delilah moved to another framed print on the wall of the small hallway, this one a Mandy Trahan. This one was a portrait of a painfully thin young girl. The girl's clothing was filthy. The child's dirty brown hair was hacked to different lengths around the girl's small head. There was no face, just two large, empty eyes.

"Oh my, my God, that..." the blonde whispered from behind Delilah.

"Oh my God," Delilah agreed. "This, this is so sad

"It, it's all about the eyes," Candy Durmonte said just before shutting the door of the bathroom.

"I, yes, the eyes, those eyes," the blonde whispered into Delilah's ear. "It, it really makes you wonder what that poor child has seen, doesn't it?"

"I, I don't even want to think about it," Delilah agreed.

Again, Delilah felt the woman's breasts against her back. She could feel the woman's hand on her hip, her left hip this time. And Delilah could smell the wine on her new friend's breath, smell the woman's sweat and light floral perfume.

"Mandy Trahan? The artist? In all of her paintings, she has that little girl. The girl's either the main focus, or she's right behind the main focal point," Candy Durmonte offered, standing to the right of Delilah and Delilah's new friend.

Delilah recognized Candy Durmonte; Candy was the executive assistant to Mr. Blanchard. Natalie Carter was the Chief Financial Officer of Tri-Carter, but it was no secret that Rick Blanchard actually made the financial decisions within the company's structure.

"Who is she?" Delilah's friend asked Candy.

"The girl? Don't know. I heard Mandy say she doesn't know who the little girl was; she just happened to be at the Thanksgiving Day dinner at the homeless shelter and Mandy just has never been able to erase that girl's empty face from her mind, or her heart," Candy said, then walked away, leaving Delilah with her blonde companion.

"Hi. I'm Xandra," Delilah's new friend crooned into Delilah's ear.

"I, uh, I'm Delilah, Delilah Roberts," Delilah stammered as she could again feel the woman's breasts pressing into her from behind and smell the woman's scent.

"Delilah; that, that's such a beautiful name. Kitty? Kitty Truehart has an exhibit and auction tomorrow night at the Lopez Center," Xandra said.

"I, who?" Delilah asked, turning slightly to peer into the woman's beautiful hazel eyes.

"Kitty Truehart; she, she had suffered a horrible breakdown and now does paintings as part of her therapy. They, they're, you just have to see them to experience them," Xandra enthused, now softly rubbing Delilah's belly with her left hand.

"I, yeah, I can see that," Delilah agreed, again focusing on the Mandy Trahan painting. "I mean, this? You could describe it, but unless you saw it?"

"Come with me?" Xandra begged. "Starts at seven with the auction at nine. I'll, we'll go to Saladelight, grab a light supper then go. Please?"

Delilah felt powerless to refuse the woman's request. She felt powerless to gently push the woman's hand away from her soft, pudgy belly, even though she hated for anyone to touch her belly. Xandra's hazel eyes held Delilah's green eyes in an unblinking stare.

"I, yeah, Saladelight?" Delilah affirmed, twisting to pull her cell phone out of her purse.

"Text me your address; I'll pick you up at six," Xandra enthused, smiling happily.

Delilah wasn't sure what to wear for an art exhibit, but guessed jeans and a blouse were not sufficient. She put on her best 'weddings and funerals' dress and smiled when the zipper went up easily.

"See? See? Passing on them cakes and cookies? Paying off, isn't it?" Julia, Delilah's step-mother encouraged.

"Whatever; you ain't never been fat a day in your life," Delilah teased her step-mother.

Delilah had inherited her mother's orange hair, pale skin, green eyes and, unfortunately, her mother's weight problem. A love of chocolate, of cookies and cakes and pies did not help the weight problem one bit.

"What. Ever, Ms. Delilah Roberts," Julia tittered. "I need to show you my high school graduation picture again?"

"Uh, hey, don't be coming home with no Picasso," Brian, Delilah's father joked. "I know you think I'm made of all kind of money here, but..."

"I, oh my God, I, what, what is that?" Julia gawked out of the kitchen window.

"Holy cow!" Brian agreed as they looked at the arctic white and heavy chrome 1959 Cadillac Series 62 coupe.

Watching Xandra climbing out of the long automobile with the very distinctive tail fins, Delilah was glad she'd put on her best dress. Xandra was wearing a strapless Barragona cocktail dress of fire engine red with Amandi XII bright red patent leather pumps.

"What time I got to be home?" Delilah asked, hurrying to the front door.

"Twelve, one o'clock," Brian asked his wife.

"Uh huh, call if you're going to be late," Julia agreed.

"I, what, what kind of car is that?" Delilah asked and Xandra let out a happy giggle.

"A 'fifty nine Cadillac; my mom's step-dad actually bought it for a couple hundred bucks," Xandra said proudly. He gave it to my mom's step-brother, he gave it to my mom's husband, and now it's mine."

In front of her home, out at the curb, where anyone could have seen them, especially her dad, her step-mom, Xandra pressed her bright red lips to Delilah's lips. She gave Delilah another happy smile then bent and pulled open the very heavy passenger door for Delilah.

The car was a solid piece of machinery and was a very comfortable ride. Delilah giggled at the odd looks the automobile garnered, but Xandra seemed oblivious to the admiring and the questioning looks they received.

After a delicious salad, they drove to the Lopez Center. The valet complimented Xandra on her beautiful classic automobile and wished them a good evening. Stepping onto the walkway, Xandra took Delilah's hand into hers and nodded to the uniformed doorman that opened the smoked glass door for them.

"The Truehart exhibit is on the second floor," an usher informed them when Xandra presented him with their tickets.

Several patrons waited for an elevator; Xandra pulled Delilah to the stairs. Delilah gritted her teeth when Xandra urged her to walk in front. She knew each step she took displayed her full buttocks and heavy thighs to the slim, beautiful Xandra.

Entering the hall, Xandra again linked her fingers with Delilah's fingers. Delilah felt small next to the beautiful, poised woman. Xandra stood five three; her heels pushed her to five seven. Her bare arms were sleek, lightly muscled. The Barragona dress clung to Xandra's form, emphasizing her 32D breasts, narrow waist and slim hips. Her legs were sleek, lightly tanned, made to look all the more sleek in her bright red pumps.

Next to her, Delilah felt short, fat and frumpy. But, turning and looking into Xandra's hazel eyes, Delilah saw the happiness in her hostess's gaze. Delilah did not see rejection in Xandra's eyes.

The very first painting caused Delilah to gasp out loud. A shattered glass sat on a Formica table, a large puddle of milk on the grayish table top. Ye, a male hand continued to pour milk into the remains of the glass.

"I, oh, oh goodness, I that? That would give me nightmares," Xandra agreed, looking at the painting.

Each one of the paintings displayed broken household items and displayed the items in use, as if the piece was not broken. Or as if the person was ignoring the fact that the piece was broken. The woman cooking two sunny-side up eggs on a skillet with melted sides caused Delilah to step back. The woman grinned as she watched the eggs sliding off of the ruined pan, as if delighted by the waste she was witness to.

The painting of a scruffy man, smiling loutishly as he sat astride a girl's bicycle with a missing front tire and torn wicker basket suspended on the grotesquely bent handlebars somehow evoked an angry response in both Delilah and Xandra. Delilah wondered when Xandra had released her hand and had looped her arm around Delilah's flabby waist. Delilah wondered when she had wrapped her chubby arm around Xandra's slim waist.

The portrait of a young girl, nude and holding a decapitated teddy bear that was also missing a leg captivated Delilah. The girl's pubic mound was covered by the remaining leg of the stuffed animal and the extended arms of the teddy bear covered the child's nipples from sight, so it was not an obscene portrait. The eyes of the girl truly hypnotized Delilah; Delilah could see raw, excruciating pain in the eyes.

"SP zero one," Xandra mused.

At eight forty, Dr. Melanie Leblanc urged the guests into a separate room for the auction. Delilah saw no reason to go into this room; she would not be bidding on any of the pieces. Xandra, however, pulled Delilah into the room and guided Delilah to a seat.

"Hello. I am Kitty Truehart. Thank you for coming, thank you for viewing my art," a very beautiful blonde woman quietly said when the doors of the room were closed.

Delilah listened as Kitty spoke, bluntly, honestly of the horrific sexual and physical abuse she'd suffered as a child. Kitty then spoke of the callous, thoughtless treatment she'd endured at the hands of boys that pretended to love her, only to be discarded by them once they'd had their way with her. She spoke of the young man that had promised a beautiful future together, then dumped her for another young woman the moment they'd had sex. That had been painful enough, but the young man and his new girlfriend compounded the heartbreak by spreading rumors, untrue rumors about Kitty to their peers.

These rumors brought on much unwanted attention from the males and unfair shunning from the females at her high school. Somehow, though, Kitty had managed to graduate high school and had enrolled in college.

"One night, I was in the bedroom of a young man, a truly, genuinely loving and caring young man," Kitty said, voice strong, clear. "We were kissing, we were touching one another. It was consensual; in fact, I had instigated it all. Then his finger entered me. He did not force his finger into me; it was a natural progression from the kissing and touching we'd done up to this point. However, when his finger entered me, it was not his finger. It was not the finger of a man that loved, that genuinely cared for me. No; it was the penis of a foster father and that foster father's sons and that foster father's two drunk friends. And I snapped. I, my mind could not and would not accept the soft, gentle and loving touches of this young man. I could not, I would not ever be touched down there again."

Kitty paused to take a gulp of water. She put the glass down on the podium and cleared her throat.

"I ran out of his condo, jumped into my car and drove straight to my sister's home. There, I could not even tell my sister what had happened. I could only scream, begging her to please help the baby, please help the little girl. Please, please protect the little girl; I just wasn't strong enough to do it anymore," Kitty said, pausing to catch her breath.

For several long moments, no one spoke. Kitty again sipped from the glass. She fumbled and found a tissue and wiped her leaking eyes.

"At the Paulton Wellness Center, Dr. Hillary Monroe had an art therapy class," Kitty finally said. "There, I put onto canvas what I could not put into words."

On the wall behind Kitty, a slide show began displaying the various pieces of art displayed in the first room. Kitty described the feelings, the moments of each painting. Delilah found that she and Xandra were clutching each other's hands as they listened to the courageous young woman as she spoke.

"Thank you," Kitty quietly concluded her presentation as the last painting, 'Raggedy Andy's Friend' flickered across the screen.

As one, the audience rose to their feet and applauded. Kitty humbly waved and bowed, waved and bowed, then urged the audience to please cease, please stop.

"People, people, please, please take your seats, please take your seats; the auction is about to begin," Dr. Danielle Hill, the Dean of the University of Louisiana at DeGarde's Arts department called out.

"Twenty percent of tonight's proceeds will be donated to the Paulton Wellness Center," Dr. Melanie Leblanc informed the patrons before the first piece was again displayed on the screen. "The first piece is 'Milk.' What do I have for this?"

"If I got this one? I'd burn it," Xandra said bitterly.

Three thousand dollars?" Delilah gasped, incredulous when Melanie called out 'Sold!'

Delilah observed that Kitty Truehart seemed as surprised as she was at the prices the pieces were fetching. The young blonde looked at Dr. Leblanc, Dr. Hill, mouth open in shock.

"Now, S. P. zero one..." Melanie called out. "The teddy..."

"Ten thousand," Xandra called out.

"Ten..." Delilah stared at Xandra.

"Twenty," William Carter smirked.

"Oh you mother fucker," Xandra snarled under her breath. "He's just doing that because I turned him down when he asked me out."

"He's, that's my boss," Delilah whispered.

"That snake? You have my sympathies," Xandra whispered back then called out 'Fifty thousand.'

Kitty clutched the podium, mouth and eyes open in stunned disbelief. She twisted to look at the slide displayed on the wall, verifying which painting was fetching the obscene bids. Again, she turned and stared at Xandra, then William.

"One hundred," William said, now scowling darkly at Xandra.

"You can have it, fucker," Xandra smiled sweetly at William.

Xandra did manage to get another Truehart painting; a 'self-portrait' of a little girl drawing a stick figure happy family while a sneering woman tore up other drawings the girl had drawn. The little girl's dress was torn from one shoulder while the woman was dressed in an elegant evening gown and glitzy jewelry and mink fur wrap, ready for a night on the town.

"Ten, you, you got ten thousand? Dollars?" Delilah asked.

"Oh Sweetie," Xandra tittered, not answering Delilah's question.

Afterward, there was a brief moment when Kitty personally thanked each person that had bid on her paintings. She did not make any reference to how much money each person had spent, just quietly gave each person her genuine thanks.

"I, I truly did want the one with the Teddy bear, but hearing your tale of 'self-portrait,' of how your hopes for a happy family were ripped from you, how everyone kept up the pretenses that everything was fine, while you were being stripped of even your hopes; I knew I would leave here with your self-portrait," Xandra told the quiet artist. "I, it, it will be in my library and believe me, every person that sees it will be told of how brave you are."

"I, I'm not brave," Kitty whispered. "If I was brave, I'd try again. I'd try to have a husband, have a baby, a beautiful baby girl. I, I'm not brave; I'm broken."

"May I hug you?" Xandra asked, eyes shiny.

"I, please, please don't," Kitty begged, stepping back, arms up in a defensive posture.

"Okay," Xandra smiled sadly. "A handshake, then?"

"Okay," Kitty tremulously agreed.

"You are brave," Xandra whispered. "You are brave. You, you put you onto canvas where everyone can see it. If you weren't brave, you'd hide yourself far, far away."

Xandra and Delilah were almost out of the door when they heard a shriek and a slap. Turning, they saw William Carter clutching his cheek and Dr. Melanie Leblanc comforting a sobbing Kitty Truehart.

"God damn! Spend a hundred thousand on...least she could do is give me a damned hub, huh?" William spat angrily.

The valets jumped to retrieve Xandra's claim ticket and the young woman that won the tussle smiled triumphantly as she scampered off to the attached parking deck. Xandra kept her arm casually looped around Delilah's waist as they waited.

"Here you are ma'am; I, I love your car," the young woman said, holding the door for Xandra.

Thank you," Xandra smiled, first opening Delilah's door for her.

"Oh, thank you, ma'am!" the valet beamed as Xandra pressed a ten dollar bill into her hand.

It was nearly eleven o'clock so Xandra drove Delilah home. Pulling to a stop in front of the Roberts' home, Xandra shut off the engine and leaned over.

Their kiss was a soft, unhurried kiss. Delilah allowed Xandra to work her tongue into Delilah's mouth. She melted into Xandra's embrace as they kissed.

Then Xandra got out of the car, walked around and helped Delilah out of the car. She held onto Delilah's hand as they walked to the front door.

"I, I'm going up to Ohio; need to take care of a few things," Xandra whispered, hand softly touching Delilah's face. "I, I'll call you, okay?"

"Okay," Delilah whispered.

With a soft kiss, Xandra turned and walked back to her car. Delilah watched the beautiful woman, illuminated by the streetlight as she floated to her car. Then she turned and let herself into the home.