The Sexy Art Gallery

11:15 am.

I was standing in Bellas Artes observing an art gallery on a school filed trip. There were many interesting pieces; some were sad, others joyful yet I’ve never truly appreciated art so I was just drifting by from one to another, not spending more than a dozen seconds on each.

This particular section of the gallery was empty for the moment as I had been the first of my class to go through the first four rooms, taking no interest in them. The only other person in the room apart from myself was one of those annoying guards they have in every room of every gallery in the world just so they can annoy you with their high-point-of-the-day-phrase: “Please don’t step over the line sir” even though just an inch of your foot is over it.

I was just about to leave the room when a voice made me stop:

“Hey handsome…” It was a sexy voice.

I turned around yet saw nothing but the guard standing all the way on the other side of the room giving me the occasional warning glance as to not step over the line because my foot being an inch over it could ruin the painting.

I was confused as to where the voice had come from, the only logical explanation was the guard. He was a man. Therefore I immediately looked away and made my way towards the door quickly.

“Oh don’t leave now babe…” came the sexy voice again. However this time I managed to look at the guard before the voice finished saying the phrase and managed to see he wasn’t the source of the voice. Relieved as I was, I was still freaked out about a mysterious voice coming from someplace.

“Look over here…” it said again.

So I did. I looked around and I couldn’t believe it. There, in front of my very own eyes, on the wall hung a painting of a naked woman and she was moving!

What the f*ck?! I thought to myself
“Come over here beautiful…” the painted lady beckoned. I moved closer until I was dangerously close to the line, the guard looked at me but said nothing, he was listening to music with his headphones so he heard nothing out of the ordinary.

“What are you standing around there for?” she said “Take me”
“Wha…hmm..who..say..wha…?” I managed to answer.
“Don’t you find me sexy?” she said and softly stroked her fun parts.
I was speechless.
“Well go on, take me, take me now, here…” she continued.
“Excuse me? You’re a painting! How can this be real, how, what are- why? Ugh…”
“Do I make you nervous honey? Is this too much? Should I cover up?”
“What? No!” Was my instinctive reply, I don’t know why but my instincts told me never to ask a naked woman to put on some clothes.
“So then…what’s the problem, am I not attractive enough?” as she said this she got into a very enticing pose and started touching herself.
“I…uh…no…very attractive…” I trailed off, I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
“Then take me! Make love to me you handsome beast!”
“What? Are you insane?! We’re in an art gallery! And by the way, just in case you haven’t noticed you’re part of it, you’re a painting for Christ’s sake!”
“So?” she said as she continued rubbing herself and moaning.
“So?! What the hell do you mean so?! I can’t have sex with a painting! It’s not possible!”
“Oh isn’t it? The how come people have sex with all other kinds of things?”

I didn’t reply, I wasn’t quite sure what she meant.
“Come on, you know what I mean my love, zoophilics, necrophilics, etc. Why can’t you be a paintaphilic or something? Come on, you know you want me you sexy man…Plus I bet it feels better than normal sex, think of all the colors and emotions this painting contains swirling around you…”
“That’s crazy! I’m not doing it with a painting!” I shouted a little too loudly for the guard turned his head towards me. I smiled at him inoffensively.
“Oh well…” she said innocently “I guess I’ll just have to sleep alone with no one to rub this oil all over my body…” she took a tube of massage oil from a corner of her painting and started to pour it all over her naked body.

My jaw was hanging open, I couldn’t resist her any longer. I took the painting from the wall and ran as fast as my feet could carry me.

The guard sprang to action.
“Hey! What are you doing?!” he shouted as he ran towards me.
“Something unspeakable!” I shouted back and ran away holding the painting all the way home.

By, Carlos Zozaya