Renaissance of the Heart - Part 2 - Sex Stories

Renaissance of the Heart - Part 2

... am!” “Don’t worry then, sexy pants. Everything is just fine.” “I just want to do the right thing,” I said, sounding slightly insecure. “Nawww… Cindy.” Elizabeth footsied me under the table and stroked my calf with her toe. Then she held up her glass by the stem. “Let’s make a toast,” she said. “Okay, what are we toasting?” “Ummm… to whatever,” she said, with a giggle. “Okay. To whatever!” Life was good and we were young. The world was our oyster and each day a new little pearl to treasure. Three days later… I had moved ten thousand pounds from my main savings account into my current account. I was ready to pay Paul whatever the painting made and from there the auction would pay Elizabeth minus their fifteen percent commission. The auction was only slightly busier than normal and two telephones had been set up, plus the internet. The reserve was three thousand and it started at a commission bid of fifteen hundred. Craig described it as ‘in the manner of high renaissance by unknown artist.’ The bids went up in one hundred at a time and then went past the reserve and quickly advanced to five and a half. Suddenly the internet kicked in and before I knew it, it had made six thousand. Paul stood in the doorway nodding nonchalantly, his eyes half obscured by his checked cap. Whoever was on the internet was keen and pushed it to seven thousand nine hundred, but then the bids dried up, with Paul motioning his bid of eight thousand and that was it. I phoned Elizabeth as soon as she ...

... was on her lunch. “Eight thousand! That’s more than you thought, isn’t it,” she said, brightly. “It is. I think it made the top end of what Craig figured it would get. You’ll get a cheque for six thousand eight hundred in a day or three.” “Oh Cindy! That will so buy me some time!” “It’ll eat into your credit cards. You gotta pay them off first.” “I will, of course. But you must let me buy you a meal before you go to Italy.” “That would be lovely, but you don’t need to, hun.” “I want to, Cindy. I’ve got to have some fun!” “Well, if it’s fun you want…” “Ha yes! Anyway, have to go, the boss is looking at his watch.” “Okay then. Speak soon.” Celebrations aside, I now had a job to do. Happily, I had secured my bank loan, which was mainly down to never having a loan and paying off credit cards when they hit the mat. I knew my parsimonious life-style would pay dividends one day. Of course, if the painting didn’t come through, I was toast. I had made every possible precaution when meeting my cousin, deliberately making the hand over at a solitary location. He said I was being paranoid. I know it sounds stupid, but I thought that somehow he would get followed. He didn’t of course and it went under my bed, wrapped in special protective paper. I contacted the insurance company, who whacked up my monthly repayments. They have you with your pants round your ankles. Obviously, I didn’t say, “Yeah, it’s probably by Michelangelo.” But as soon as you start talking Renaissance oil painting, they ...