A Thousand Words Pt. 01

Summary: 'A picture is worth a thousand words', and it was never more true for what Rhea had in mind for herself and her husband.

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The Rake:

(It's fascinating how the perception of people towards an activity, thought and sometimes even a person changes with a change in environment). At least, that is what Rhea contemplated as she walked the length of the art gallery, admiring and sometimes abhorring the paintings and photographs on display. The exhibits were based on the theme of the Seven Deadly Sins, and naturally, the section which saw the most foot traffic was 'Lust.' A topic which has been heavily frowned upon in India, for both cultural and political reasons.

(But, take erotic paintings and photographs, place them in a lavish gala, charge an arm and a leg to view them, and it's considered a high society event). Rhea smirked at the thought and shook her head.

If one were to look upon 'Lust' as a brand, then Rhea would be the perfect brand ambassador. While her height was an average five and a half feet, what was above average were the curves of her body. With the mixed heritage of a Russian Father and an Indian mother, Rhea boasted a body that had a perfect blend of both gene pools. Her skin was a natural bronze color, which according to her friends gave her the perfect tan all year round. Light green eyes, full lips which looked best unadorned and a body that was seemingly fashioned on the sculpture of a voluptuous Indian goddess.

She wore an elegant white cocktail dress that hugged her figure in all the right places, raven black hair cascading down her back but kept clear of her forehead, cream colored heels that complemented her skin and in her hands a flute of champagne. She stood in front of an erotic painting and admired the flourish and brushwork of the artist, taking particular interest in the expressions of the lovers as they wrap their arms around each other in a passionate embrace.

(The expressions are nowhere near as good as the bodies, what a pity), she thought and strolled ahead. Hips swaying gently as she walked, if anyone would look carefully -and many were- they could make out that she was not wearing any undergarment to avoid pantie lines on her dress. This raised quite a few eyebrows and not to mention several heartbeats. As she continued her implicit critique of all the exhibits while being secretly observed by most of the men in the hall, one man's scrutiny of her beauty was a mixture of both professional curiosity and primal lust.

The gentle sway of her hips with each step, the slight rolling of the lips over the rim of her flute as she contemplated every piece of art on the wall. (She's a hell of a piece herself), the man mused and made his way towards her through the crowd.

Rhea had almost dismissed the art collection as nothing more than enthusiastic scribbles and superficial images when her attention was drawn to a Black & White nude photograph. She stepped closer and examined it with interest. The back of the model was towards the viewer, her legs spread open, her back arched and her head thrown back in an expression of genuine ecstasy. Eyes half closed, lips parting only slightly to show a bit of her tongue. (Not an expression that can be faked easily.) she thought and twirled the champagne in her glass.

"I'm glad you like it."

Rhea glanced over her shoulder towards the source of the voice and perceived a tall man, with striking blue eyes, chiseled facial features, and pale skin tone. His hair was a darker shade of blonde, long and tied in a ponytail.

"How do you know if I like it or not?"

"You haven't spent more than a minute on any exhibit. And you've been standing here for a good three minutes, so I take it you liked what I've put up on here," he smiled in an almost innocent way, but his eyes betrayed more than a hint of carnal desire.

Rhea smiled and raised a toast to him, "Well, your work is certainly worth admiring." She looked at the expression on the model's face, "She's quite the actress."

"Actress?" the man inquired.

"Well, that expression is rather hard to fake, and she has done it extremely well."

"I am rather hurt by your conclusion my dear." the man feigned injury and placed a hand on his chest, "What kind of a still life photographer would I be if I asked my models to fake their expressions?"

"So, the expression is genuine?"

"It certainly is. And I should know, I was there." The man pointed at the photograph.

Rhea chuckled, "Well, of course, you were there."

"No no, my dear, I mean, I AM there." He pointed once again to a particular spot on the photograph. Rhea leaned in to look and found that she could just make out the silhouette of a head between the open legs. The muscles of the model's shoulders were taut with exertion, and it was clear that he was clutching someone's head between her thighs.

Rhea raised an eyebrow and smirked, "So, you use your lover as your model?"

"Well, it was just for the photo shoot." the man grinned ear to ear and flashed a set of perfect teeth.

"I see, and you've used her in your other works as well?"

"A few others yes. This was the best of the lot. The others are well, not for this country's sensibilities." The lustful glint in his eyes only grew brighter as his eyes took in Rhea's lips and body.

"Nor, do I suspect, are you from this country." The man stated.

"Well, you are partly correct. I am of mixed heritage."

"Your English is impeccable. The best I've heard from any Indian woman."

Rhea nodded at the compliment and sauntered ahead to examine a few more erotic photographs. Each one was perfectly framed and composed. The models looked relaxed, playful and above all, real. None of the size zero women that adorned the front pages of fashion magazines these days. These women were naturally beautiful and no artificial enhancements were necessary. In fact, the subtle imperfections in their bodies only served to make the overall picture more believable and arousing.

The man paced behind her slowly, his eyes never leaving her swaying hips and the soft curves of her full ass cheeks bouncing with every step she took, "I'm glad you like them."

"Why is it so important to you that I like them?" Rhea spun and looked him in the eyes with a playful smile on her lips.

"Well, I was going to ask if you'd be interested in a modeling assignment?"

The silence that followed was laden with anxiety and apprehension and then Rhea replied, "A kind offer but I'm afraid I shall have to decline." she placed her now empty flute onto a floating tray and stepped away from the man.

"Too forward?"

Rhea turned around and flicked the wedding band on her finger, "Too delusional."

The sight of the ring brought back the lusty grin on his face, "Well now, this certainly is awkward." Rhea spun on her heels and walked away. The man's gaze never left her receding form. Especially her bulbous ass cheeks.

The Husband:

Rhea parked her car in the garage and entered her bungalow. The light clicking of her heels did not go unnoticed by her husband, who was in his study, "Ah, she finally returns." he called out and approached her.

In the context of art, if Rhea were Botticelli's wet dream then her husband would qualify as a certifiable nightmare. The contrast did not end at their physical appearance alone, for as wealthy as her husband was, he was also a classless brute, for whom 'beauty' was just the amount of zeros in front of his net worth. He also for some reason fancied himself a ladies man, "There she is, the eighth wonder of the world." he grinned and delivered a customary smack on his wife's rump.

"God, I love the way it bounces." He breathed slowly and looked at his wife's passive expression.

"Did you keep your doctor's appointment?" she asked, much to his chagrin.

"Can't you let me enjoy a moment's peace woman?" his hand caressed the curve of her ass cheeks and groped gently. Rhea side-stepped and continued, "The doctor gave me a call. He says you're not to go overboard with the drinking and also take it easy on the pills."

Her husband was visibly upset by this remark and took a step back from her, "Why do you always bring up this stuff?"

"Because I can't afford to have you in the hospital," she replied evenly.

"You know how all this makes me feel," his breathing quickened, as did his temper, "You always do this to me when I try getting physically intimate."

'Physically intimate,' Rhea said mockingly, "Been reading relationship columns again?"

"FUCK YOU! You horse assed cunt!!"

"Ah! I knew the decency wouldn't last." Rhea grinned and stepped in closer to her husband.

"Alright my love," she whispered and slipped her palm under his enormous belly and stroked the bulge in his pajamas, "let's get physically intimate," saying so she slipped her hand inside, and gently stroked his semi-erect cock.

Rhea's lips hovered close to his but she did not lean in for a kiss. Instead, she quietly watched her husband's face go red and the beads of sweat that built up around his temple.

"Well, the pills seem to be working today," she whispered and felt the modest sized shaft twitch and thicken in her grip. Her husband's mouth opened in a silent scream and the sweat began to pour down his face.

"See, the problem is not that I don't want to get physical with you," Rhea continued to whisper in his lips and stroked his cock expertly, sliding her palm down to cup his heavy sack and give it a firm squeeze before sliding her palm up and rolling it over the shaft.

With a loud groan and shiver from him, she felt her husband's cock melt in her palm and perceived the wetness in her fingers as her husband blew his small and watery load. She slid her hand out of his pants and finished her statement, "The problem is, there isn't any point in getting physically intimate with you."

She looked into his eyes with an intensity that crushed his soul. He slowly collapsed into the chair behind him and looked up at her. His face now a sweaty red mass and his breathing ragged and urgent. Rhea stepped forward and wiped her palm on his shirt, "Good night my dear, and don't forget to turn off the lights in your bedroom."

She strolled off towards her own bedroom upstairs and shook her head in disgust as she heard the pitiful sobs of her husband in the living room.

The morning began for Rhea as early as 6 am. She got up and went through her morning Yoga exercises, followed by an hour on the treadmill and then breakfast promptly at 8 am. As she ate her breakfast, she asked the butler to go and check on his husband. He returned and informed her that he had gone to the airport early in the morning without leaving any word. Rhea merely nodded and made an educated guess that he's gone out of the country to reaffirm his 'manhood' with someone who's paid to help him do it.

She was surprised, however, to learn that a parcel had been delivered to the house late at night and was currently kept in the foyer, awaiting her inspection. She went immediately and beheld the familiar sight of a model with her legs spread and boasting the expression of pure bliss on her face. The picture arrived, apparently with a card and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. The card contained only a number and address and on the flip side a message, 'Please share my delusion'.

Rhea smirked and looked at the photograph in front of her, "Place it in my bedroom," she instructed her butler,"And have my wardrobe sent for from the cleaners. I may have dinner plans."