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Armand Charon, a very handsome man about 35, had black, curly hair and was a muscular 6’5”. He owned an art gallery in the upscale part of town where he catered to the wealthy, beautiful people. Women were attracted to him, and every day, two or three or four women would go to his gallery and walk around looking at an endless array of art pieces, all the while glancing at Armand and fantasizing.  He would acknowledge their glances with a smile that made the ladies swoon.

Jane Somers was drawn to Armand, and visited the gallery at least twice a week.  She was attractive, and, in a bikini, would have men drooling. Being single, she was free of guilt feelings the other married women had because they were so attracted to Armand.   Jane wandered around hoping to find a reason to talk to him.  As she wandered near him, she stopped at a statue of a beautiful woman.  “Uh, excuse me.  I was wondering about that statue,” she said pointing.

“Ah, yes. That is Aphrodite.  She was the goddess of love, beauty, pleasure and procreation.”

“She is beautiful.   I think every woman would want to look like her,” Jane said.

“The only difference between you and her is she’s not real, you are very real and as beautiful a woman as Aphrodite.

Jane blushed and fanned herself with her hanky.  “Well, you are very kind,” she said and felt weak as she looked into his eyes.  Uh, what was I saying? Oh, yes. Uh, how much do you want for her?”

“I’m sorry, but she is not for sale? If you look around, you’ll see that I have a number of statues you might like,” he said smiling and looking at her as though he was undressing her with his eyes.  Feeling herself blush, she turned and looked at the other statues.

“They’re nice, but…”

“I’ll tell you what.  I’m expecting some statues in a few days, and I’m sure one will be what you want.”

“Okay, I’ll drop by in a few days,” she said and left the gallery

Armand went to a painting that he wanted to straighten, and, as he put the step stool in front of the painting, a beautiful woman entered the gallery. She looked at Armand, who had his back to her, appeared put out, and put her hands on her hips. “You there, I’m waiting.”

Armand turned and looked at her.  He stepped down and went to her. When she looked in his eyes, she felt a wave of warmth surge through her body and her arrogance melted away. “Uh, I, uh, was looking for a painting,” she said captivated by his eyes.

“Any particular painter?”

“Uh, no. Just a nice painting.”

“How about the one I was straightening.  Come, take a look,” he said and she followed him to the painting.

“Yes,” she said.  “I like it. Do you deliver?”

“Of course. Would I be disturbing you if I delivered it at 8:00?”

“Not at all. I’m single, so there’s no one to disturb.

Janine Combs paid for the painting, gave Armand her address, and left.

At 8:00, Armand was greeted by Janine in tight-fitting leggings and a tight-fitting, sheer shirt. “Come in, Armand,” she said and he entered.

“Where would you like me to hang the painting?

“Oh, that can wait. Come have a glass of wine to celebrate.”

“I’m going to be in a movie, my first, and I’m excited. Come,” she said.  He leaned the painting against a wall and followed her to the living room where a bottle of wine and two glasses were on a coffee table in front of a couch.

After two glasses of wine, she stared into his eyes and appeared mesmerized.  “Why don’t we go back to my studio?  I have some excellent champagne that’s perfect for celebrating.”

“Yes. Yes. Let’s go,” she said staring into his eyes.

At the studio, they sat at a table reserved for customers, and he poured a glass of champagne for her. “Here, drink this.”

“She looked into his eyes, nodded, and drank the champagne. After a minute, Janine was unconscious.  Armand picked her up and carried her into his back room, placed her on a table, and undressed her.

“Yes, you are beautiful.  You are perfect,” he said, draped her long hair over her shoulder, then dragged a pump to the table, and sprayed her, front and back, with a coat of thick material.  Next, he dragged a form to the table, put her in, and closed the lid.  Then he stood on a ladder and, through a hole in the top of the form, sprayed a thick coat of liquid that covered her and, after an hour, he opened the lid, and inside was a beautiful statue.  He took her out of the mold, carried her into the show room, and stood her on a pedestal.   Two days later, Jane Somers returned to the gallery.

“Ah, Ms. Somers. I have a beautiful statue that just came in,” he said and led her to Janine.”

“Yes, she is beautiful.  Could you deliver her to my house?

“Would 8:00 be convenient?”

“Yes, it would.  I live alone, so there’s no one to be disturbed. She paid, gave Armand her address, and left.

“I’ll see you at 8:00,” he said and watched her leave.  “Nice.  Very, very nice.”


The End


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