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Donna and the Fish ‘It’s all a matter of juxtaposition.’ Donna looked exquisite. It was another exhibition at her gallery and she was wearing a beautiful pair of black, high cut trousers supported by red braces over a white shirt beneath which was a white, silk camisole. When earlier I had commented how beautiful she looked, she said, ‘I have to conceal my nipples, College. If exposed they would cause a public nuisance, people might fall off bicycles. These are proper nipples, not like yours. My hamster’s clit was bigger than your nipples.’ ‘What has juxtaposition got to do with it?’ ‘Ah, it is a wile of the art exhibition producer to position the works carefully so that each is seen in the context of its peers and not as an individual. Clever, no?’ We were standing to one side at the exhibition and enjoying a moment together while Donna took the opportunity to sip half a glass of champagne with me before returning to her duties as ‘Guest Relations Officer’ for the event organised by her boss, Miss Denton-Smale. She pulled her braces forward from her chest. ‘The yanks call these suspenders, did you know that?’ I nodded. ‘And these,’ she said, stroking my suspender through the long black dress I was wearing and with a mischievous grin in her mis-matched eyes,’ are known as garters. Funny how we speak the same language but use different words. Are you wearing any knickers?’ Why does she sometimes speak louder than necessary? ‘Now then, my little knowledge fount with tits, I want you to Ataşehir Escort explain something about this artist’s work.’ The artist in question was a German lady called Friede Merks and in each of her paintings there was an image of a fish. Hence, Donna had dubbed her Freda Mare. It was the fish about which Donna wanted my opinion. ‘Could it be some religious reference?’ ‘Explain, College, bring light into my intellectual darkness.’ ‘Have you ever noticed that the worst drivers always have a stylised image of a fish on the back of their car?’ She had. ‘This indicates that they are Christian and warns drivers infuriated by their appalling motoring to avoid using blasphemous invective when berating them.’ ‘Why does the fish indicate that they are religious?’ ‘I believe that during periods when Christians were persecuted they used the fish sign to indicate secretly to others that they were of the faith. The fish because, of course, Peter was a fisherman. It is why they sometimes say that the Pope wears the shoes of the fisherman.’ ‘All the fishermen I have ever seen wear boots or,’ she said with a wicked grin, ‘waders.’ ‘I think the reference to shoes is a sort of shorthand and I am not sure that waders existed in biblical times.’ ‘They don’t know what they missed. Dead sexy, waders are. Talking of sexy, lets nip into the kitchen for a quick snog.’ There is no denying Donna when she is set on something and she led me, giggling, to the kitchen where Ataşehir Escort Bayan she kissed me passionately and her hand lifted my dress and cupped my pussy. It was a brief but delicious moment and we returned down the passageway past the toilets to the exhibition room where, at the end of the passage, Miss Denton-Smale stood sipping at a glass of wine. ‘If you have to ravage Donna in my kitchen at least make sure your lippy isn’t smeared all over her cheek when she comes back.’ I apologised. ‘Oh, don’t worry. I wouldn’t mind someone taking me back there and rogering me senseless, especially that hunk in the blue suit. Sadly he is as bent as a longbow and the art correspondent of the Chronicle, totally impervious to my womanly charms.’ Without a word Donna walked quickly across the room, picked up a glass of champagne and headed straight for the art correspondent. Within seconds she was chatting to him like they were old friends and I could see him laughing and thoroughly enjoying her. She caught my eye and did a thing with her right eyebrow that usually means she wants me to join her so I did. ‘College, meet Dave. He’s the art correspondent for the local paper.’ I shook his hand. ‘Dave questions your explanation for the inclusion of a fish in her pictures. He maintains it is like a signature just as others include, for example a mouse or a budgie.’ David was clearly taken with Donna and despite his ‘hunkiness’ that Denton-Smale had remarked Escort Ataşehir on, he had a very effeminate manner. ‘Many artists incorporate such images irrespective of the painting’s subject matter. I must, I fear, contradict your religious image theory despite seeing what you mean. Ms Merks is, I believe, Jewish.’ He delivered this with a camp fluttering of his hand and a rather patronising air which Donna obviously ignored but congratulated him on outsmarting me. ‘She’s bright, Dave, and good in the sack but she lacks training in the world of art.’ He guffawed and it was clear Donna had found his ego and was stroking it mercilessly. She smirked at me over his shoulder, knowing I would never mind. ‘Come on, College, time to continue your education.’ With that she led me away and her hand stroked my arse surreptitiously. Dave’s review of the exhibition was in the paper the following morning and enthused about it calling it a triumph of presentation, the pictures so juxtaposed as to make each appear in the context of its peers and not as an individual. I recognised Donna’s words and smiled as I read it over my coffee at work. But that was the following day and I get ahead of myself. After the exhibition had closed that evening I had helped Donna to do a bit of clearing up before she came home to my place. She was a little urgent when we got there and it was not long before my dress was lying across the sofa and Donna’s trousers were spread across it rather as one of Donna’s legs was across mine. Her other leg was curled beneath me so that our naughty bits were deliciously kissing each other as our mouths did too. Donna pulled back and smiled lasciviously. ‘It’s all a matter of juxtaposition.’ Donna’s Insecurity It had never occurred to me that Donna harboured feelings of insecurity.

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