“Not fair.” Kia’s eyes drifted down Sullivan’s body. “You’ve seenmenaked.”
“Not on purpose. Not that I minded.”
Kia turned away, but Sullivan could see she looked pleased.
“You said you didn’t have anything to do today, right?” Kia said. “I want to take you on a date.”
Kia poured Sullivan a cup of coffee.
“Are we lagging in the algorithm?”
“No. I just want to show you something special. There’s a new exhibit at the Portland Art Museum, and we can picnic inside.”
“I don’t think they let you picnic in the museum.”
“They’ll let me.” Kia gave her a sweet, self-deprecating smile.
An hour later, raincoats dripping, Kia and Sullivan arrived at the side door to the museum. A man with a museum name tag ushered them inside.
“The exhibit isn’t open yet, so you’ll have it all to yourself.” He led them up a concrete staircase and pushed open a door at the top. The door led into a high-ceilinged gallery with white walls and gleaming blond wood floors. And the biggest Janice Domingo nudes Sullivan had ever seen.
“I saw on the website that they were having aDivine Nude Museexhibit. I thought you’d like to see it.”
Sullivan was mesmerized. Her paintings were tiny by comparison; these nudes towered over them. Not all of them had been hung. Some rested against the wall. Others were still wrapped in protective cloth.
“Obviously don’t touch anything,” the man said and disappeared down the staircase.
“How did you…?” Sullivan looked at Kia, who’d set her picnic basket on a bench in the center of the space.
“I asked.”
“You can’t just ask to picnic in a museum exhibit that isn’t even open yet.”
“I can.” Kia took off her turquoise sunglasses and tucked them in the picnic basket.
“You want to look around?” Kia asked.
Sullivan absolutely wanted to look around at the nudes. The paintings that had already been hung had been placed so that the women’s vulvae were at eye level. The nearest one showed the woman’s vulva peeking out beyond her pubic hair.
“I didn’t know they’d be quite so… close,” Kia said.
Her light brown skin did not hide her blush.
The next painting was even more explicit. Kia tried to hurry past it.
“Don’t you want to admire the composition?” Sullivan teased. “You’re blushing.”
“Of course I’m blushing.” Kia motioned to the painting’s vulva without looking at it.
“Whyof course?” Sullivan paused to admire the painting.
Kia didn’t answer. When Sullivan looked at her, she was fidgeting with the edge of her Kia Gourmazing T-shirt.
“I can’t believe you’renotblushing.”
“Look at the brushwork here.” Sullivan pointed to a curl of pubic hair at the juncture of the woman’s legs. “Do you think that’s oil or acrylic?”
Kia laughed. “Read the plaque, Sullivan. I don’t look at the bushwork and think,Is it acrylic?”
