The Sculptor and the Censor

I'd cultivated neat appearance in consideration of the day's mission: Blue blazer, brown slacks. A trim haircut and a clean shave.

Serious, but down-to-earth.

Once behind the wheel of my restored '72 Mustang, I swung onto the road to the suburb. My eyes were fixed on the street ahead.

Austin Rey was Ms. Forbearance, herself. The founder of Morality For Today was notorious as a pushy, one-woman censor of all things sexual.

Adult magazines at convenience stores? Neighborhood racy movie houses? Enlightened textbooks? Public library literature?

All had come under high-profile attack from Austin Rey and her crusading nay-sayers. She'd even become a semi-regular on regional cable TV talk shows.

And now, she'd announced a challenge to the statue I'd fashioned per the city council's request. "Overly-suggestive," she'd pronounced it to reporters.

Suggestive of what? I laughed. Personal liberty? Good! That was my creative intent.

This afternoon's casual, private meeting might deter her prudish, obstructionist legal action. At least, that's what the city council members who'd arranged this were hoping.

I sighed, contemplating the task ahead.

She was as committed to repression as I was passionate about free expression. She and I had even debated the general topic before council meetings a few times.

She was a fierce opponent. I wasn't optimistic.

I turned into her gated community's drive and continued up the path toward the august estate. The house censorship built.

Austin stood on the veranda. She was slim, tall and, I realized, elegant even in her 50s. The simple aqua dress became her svelte figure.

"Mr. Staisen? Come in, please." Her polite smile was impersonal.

I followed her indoors, taking care to wipe my feet even though it wasn't raining. Something about her palatial home and arch manner made me feel inherently impure.

"Please, sit down." She indicated a plush, velvet-covered sofa.

"I fully intend to publicly protest the smutty statue." she directed that to me over one shoulder as she examined a wall-shelf row of porcelain figurines.

"Well, you get right to the point," I replied. "Suppose I do, too."

Opening my folder, I continued. "The City Attorney has researched this. I advised him that another nude statue of mine was challenged in Toledo two years ago. That case was ultimately dismissed. Toledo's statue stands to this day."

"Then, you feel this is a settled matter?" She smiled sweetly, as if readying to pounce.

"I do, indeed. But more importantly, so do the courts."

"Perhaps, perhaps." She toyed with a porcelain figurine. "But, perhaps an important point needs to be made. One on moral virtues in civic displays."

I took a beat before replying. Her home was expensively-appointed. Attractive without being ostentatious. It practically screamed dignity.

The divorced mother of three grown children, she wore her gently-curled red hair at mid-length.

Faint lines lent character to her quiet loveliness. Her blue eyes twinkled when she laughed but flashed with intensity when she was angry. And I'd more often seen the latter.

I cleared my throat. "Ms. Rey -- may I call you 'Austin?' -- I wouldn't recommend that you embark upon what would surely turn out to be a costly and embarassing defeat for your group. And, I might add, a very public one, at that."

The Dame of Denial settled herself on a regal-looking armchair that seemed to be the center of the furniture arrangement. "Mr. Staisen -- Nicholas -- I am not easily dissuaded, I assure you."

I began to answer, but she cut me off. "However, it would seem we have nothing more to talk about,"

"I disagree." I leaned forward. "I think avoiding conflict is in both our interests and should be pursued."

She stood. "I believe our positions are quite clear. You have your responsibilities. I have mine."

She stepped to the great oak door. "Good day." Her voice was crisp, businesslike.

Outside, I paused before opening the Mustang's door. The meeting had gone about as I'd expected. Past encounters with Austin had shown me her obstinence.

"Oh well," I thought, climbing in. "I did try."

But as the motor roared into life, I sat motionless. A striking notion had presented itself.

Answering my knock, she looked surprised to see him. "Why, Mr. Staisen!"

"I just have one question." I peered intently. "Have you ever actually seen the statue?"

For the first time, she seemed unsure of herself. "Well, no. But, I've gotten reports..."

I nodded. "I had that suspicion. May I come in, again?"

I set my folder on the couch beside me and opened it. "I've got the photo I submitted to the city council upon completion of the work. Come here and take a look." I made room on the couch.

A bit hesitant, Austin perched on the cushion's edge. "It's not necessary to drink poison to know it's harmful."

"False analogy," I countered. "We're not talking about a chemically-static substance, something already established as invariably injurious. This is art. It's subjective. It's about ideas. And its meaning is open to individual interpretation."

I held the photo before her. "Don't think about what you've heard others say. Consider your own impressions. What do you see?"

She glanced quickly at the proffered glossy and looked away. "Shocking! Smut! Now, I really must ask you to go. This is pointless."

"Indulge me." I moved closer, my blazer's sleeve brushing her bare forearm. "Look closely. See what the statue represents -- what I sought to convey?"

Austin continued to face the front window. But from the corners of her eyes, she looked again. "I see a man." Her voice softened, growing a bit tremulous. "A...naked man."

"See his bold posture? The comfort his freedom allows him? The defiance in his eyes and the assured set of his chin?"

Her face now turned toward the photo. "I see... he's quite handsome." In spite of her modesty she touched the photo, turning it slightly toward her. "Muscular..."

She lifted her eyes to mine. They spoke a new introduction, one without words.

"And, look here." I whispered. "See the tremendous liberty inherent in this work? The empowering sense of self? Haven't you ever felt that same, wonderful inner strength?"

She closed her eyes. I placed a hand on hers, continuing. "Do you know that strength so invigorating and liberating that your entire body seems electrified and your heart pounds so that your chest feels close to bursting?"

Austin moved her free hand, sandwiching mine now between her own.

On impulse, I touched her dangling red curls. "Austin...Austin..." The impulse grew stronger. I caressed her soft cheek with daring fingertips. "You are beauty," I whispered, only just noticing the depth of her loveliness.

She opened her eyes and looked to me questioningly.

I smiled slightly, nodding that my words were indeed true ones.

Suddenly, she pulled back. "We mustn't," she whispered.

I touched my fingertips to the supple flesh of her bare forearms. "We are human, and we must. It will forever be our treasured secret."

"Promise me," she breathed. Her lids fluttered. "You must promise me..."

In a maddeningly and wonderfully gradual fashion, our faces inched nearer to one another. Until finally our lips met.

Whether new lovers's ardent kisses number in the hundreds or are all of one whole is neither known nor consequential. Indeed, in those minutes all that truly is significant is the rapturous joy of intimate contact.

I rose and stood before Austin, reaching out my hands. She took them, and I thrilled to feel her dainty clasp.

When she'd risen to parallel me, we again kissed. Deeply, excitedly and passionately. And now our bodies pressed to one another, each knowing for the first time the wonder of the other's form.

A new and spontaneous joy flowered, a fulfilling ebulliance at the honest intimacy kindled.

Stooping slightly and encircling her with both arms, I lifted fair Austin and strode with manly purpose toward her open bedroom door.

Her shyness dictated that she not switch on the light. Satisfyingly behind her, I slowly and respectfully unzipped her stylish aqua dress and let it fall to the rug below.

It lay around her stylish black heels. She kicked them off.

Her basic, white silk slip clung to her every delicious womanly curve. Her shapely legs were sheer verse.

"Nicholas...Oh, Nicholas..." Her aroused delirium was that of a sensuous woman too long untouched.

"Austin," I breathed in her ear, sliding my hands around her slim waist to her stomach, then up until they settled on her yearning bosoms.

She writhed in slow-motion ecstasy.

Squeezing, massaging and caressing her milky breasts through petty silk restraint, I pressed the length of my hardness against her full derriere. Thrilling at their good fortune, my lips brushed the tender nape of her delicate neck.

Emboldened now by passion's fury, she stepped from my embrace and turned to face me. Her heavily-lidded blue eyes shone with happy tears. She shrugged the slip's straps from their places on her shoulders and let the garment fall.

I undid her white, scalloped bra, tossing it to the floor. Smallish and finely-nippled breasts swung free.

Reaching through the shadows, I brushed one nipple with my fingertips.Austin shivered, a feminine blush coloring her cheeks. The nipple hardened.

Then her fingers were at my dress shirt's buttons, ripping away one and then the next in fevered abandon. Once it was open she stripped me of it and pressed hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses across my stout chest and flat stomach.

Soon, she lay on her bed and watched with apparent anticipatory lust as I shed my slacks.

I lay stretched out against her. Our kisses resumed. My full erection throbbed against her tender pubic mound. I trapped her ankle between both of mine. My hands squeezed her hips, thighs and buttocks.

She twisted onto her back and drew her knees up toward her chest. With anxious arms, she pulled me atop her.

First, the tip of my erection brushed oh-so-gently against her widened and well-lubricated lips. My mouth then was on her throat, my aroused breath hot against fine skin.

She scooted down on the mattress, locking me to her with her legs. And I was suddenly fully inside her.

Again, our lips met. And this time, it was as familiars. Ours was now the kiss of reunited, knowing lovers. Our tongues played and sparred.

I planted my palms on either side of her, depressing the firm mattress about her head. My coarse chest hair tormented her luxurious nipples.

Together, we perfected a symbiotic rocking motion most satisfying.

Flesh became art.

I sought to be a patient lover and an attentive one. My hands sought out her most private areas, the ones that surely cried out for a caring lover's hand.

Her moans and trembling fingers further guided my touches.

Again and again and again I thrust the length of my member up into her. Over and over she desperately pulled me to the task, using legs and arms, alike.

I peppered her lovely face with kisses as we continued in steamy carnal union. Her deep moans swelled into frantic cries.

The thrusting became faster. I could feel her heart race. I breathed her name against her ear lobe.

And in time, we climaxed as one. All then was wetness, spurting and flowing. Fluids met and mixed in glorious union, covering our joined privates and bonding them in earthy commonality.

Feverishly, we grappled, rolled, kissed and thrashed. Hot skin rejoiced at friction against other hot skin.

Our flailing arms and legs tangled. Hair lost all design.

In this tumultuous erotic encounter, we were as close as any two humans have ever been. Art in perfection.

We lay together in the heat of aftermath. Austin's head fell to my chest, sharing its rise and fall. My arms held her close. Her fingers stroked my stomach.

I murmured the inspired romantic poetry of such moments, my nostrils filled with her frank and natural scent.

After a joyous time, we moved to her old-fashioned, claw-footed white tub. It was cramped. But we wouldn't have had it any other way.

She nestled in my arms and gazed upon the sweet-smelling soap bubbles piled high before us. I watched water beads dance down her half-submerged breasts. Candlelight flickered in her eyes.

Again, we kissed. All afternoon.

True, we would thereafter persist in differing views on art and propriety. In fact, our stormy debates at public meetings were to become legend.

And had the public ever learned of our most unlikely and hot-blooded detente, the shock would have been immeasurable.

But the public never did discover our secret affair. It continues to this day.

(end)