Page 18 of The Christmas Nanny

“So, what, you have paintings of naked women? I don’t mind.”

“Something like that.”

I placed the beer on the table and held Christine’s hand. When I stood, we shared a brief, succulent kiss. I’ve met women whose eyes will run you away, but Christine’s made me never want to leave. What I saw in them was part loving and part darkness that swam below the surface.

“Be careful on the stairs,” I said, flipping the light switch. The blue lights did little to illuminate a safe pathway, but a brighter light messed with my eyes for far too long once I was in the basement. “Are you sure about this?”

“I am. Quit worrying.”

Although all the paintings were covered, the furniture, tools, and devices in the room were not. I flipped another switch at the bottom of the stairs, and more blue lights illuminated.

Christine stepped forward, releasing my hand. She walked to the room’s center, where a Queen’s Chair sat. “What the hell, Jacob?” She turned to the left, facing the uncovered camera.

Looking to lessen the shock, I crossed the room and uncovered the paintings, including the unfinished one.

“I paint erotic scenes.”

She clicked on the light above the unfinished painting. “That’s you.”

“It is.”

“Who’s the woman?” She traced the woman’s figure with a finger. “She’s beautiful.” I liked the way she gazed at the naked bodies. It left me with hope.

“She’s a model,” I said.

Christine scanned the room again. “You take pictures of the scenes you create and then paint from the pictures. I don’t find them dirty or frightening at all. They’re all beautiful, and I like that you put yourself in your work.”

“Precisely.”

She ran her hand along the chair in the room’s center. “A Queen’s Chair. Nice.” She smiled. “Don’t look so surprised. Guys aren’t the only ones who watch porn.”

“Then you know what it’s for,” I said. I crossed my arms and watched her admire the chair.

“You have a model lined up?”

“Not yet. There are a few who have offered.”

Christine sat in the chair, a device I purchased from a company in Texas. Although wood in structure, the seat, arms, and back were cushioned beneath leather. Christine was the first to find comfort on the seat. She spread her legs, resting her arms. I caught a glimpse of her bare pussy and smiled.

“Oops,” she quipped. “Forgot about that.”

I stood before Christine and put my hands on the chair’s arms.

“What’s your secret, Christine? You know mine. How did you know about this chair?”

She bit her lower lip. “So, you’re not the All-American boy I thought you were. The type of guy I told Annette you were. That means Anette was right, and I hate that.”

“Are you the All-American girl?”

“I never claimed to be.”

“Like I never claimed to be the All-American boy.”

She crossed her legs, and a bit of disappointment filled my heart. “You present yourself as one. That’s all I’m saying.”

“You mean instead of being a dick. That’s what guys like Jeremy are for. I see no need to flaunt what I do in private in the open. I know how to treat a woman. I know what they like. I follow through with my promises.”

“Is that right? What if I told you to lay down and put your face beneath the chair?”

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