Nightingale

"Working through the budget process takes weeks. I've only been telling you about it for the last fifteen years. And I need to set time aside for us? What about the last three March breaks when Sam and I had to go on trips without you because you couldn't spare the time?"

"That's time for you and Sam to bond!" he argued.

"NO! We beg you to join us every time, and you always make excuses. So don't talk to me about my not setting time aside for us when you are far guiltier of that! And why the sudden interest in Jamaica?"

"I was—we were invited to enjoy a stay at a resort on the island. A really nice resort!" he responded in a rush as he felt the argument slipping out of control.

She threw her napkin on the table. "Belonging to one of your out-of-town guests, no doubt. Once upon a time, you'd recognize how bad that idea is." She took a deep breath to collect herself. "The answer is no. Forget it. Thanks for ruining an otherwise perfectly lovely evening." She turned to Sam, who was sharing a sad expression with her. "My apologies, dear. Dinner was lovely. I'll see you tomorrow morning. I've suddenly developed a headache and will be heading to bed early."

With a final disappointed look at Malcolm, she stood and walked inside with her dishes.

Malcolm felt his daughter's unhappy gaze. It was too much. "Don't you have homework or Facebook or something?" he growled.

Sam picked up her dishes and followed her mother inside without a word.

He saw his plan to enjoy the Jamaican club vanish in a puff of smoke. Shit. Suzanne had become such a cold bitch. Sam was following in her mother's footsteps too.

His need for some sexy excitement was becoming unbearable.

Fuck.

-=-

Raph got home after his shift on Sunday feeling pretty good. Sore but good. Jackie seemed to be in a better mood, so he wasn't chewing everyone's ass, and business was good.

He'd fulfilled so many orders his arms were almost trembling with fatigue. He'd gotten more than his share of exercise today. He wouldn't have another shift until Thursday, so his muscles were getting a break.

He picked up a piece of meat, some onions, a little basil, some butter, and some potatoes on his way home. He was going to make a simple roast for dinner to surprise Dotty. She'd been moping around the house, and he was getting worried about her again.

The moment he stepped inside his house, he smelled it. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he quickly dropped the grocery bags in the kitchen and ran upstairs to check on his mom.

As he entered the bedroom, the smell of vomit and alcohol hit him in the face, and he grimaced.

Thankfully, she'd been able to roll onto her side and hang her head over the side of the bed before she puked. He was sure he was going to come home one day to find she'd choked to death on her own sick.

She'd gotten the bedsheets and the small throw carpet that was going in the trash. It was also in her hair. He'd have to bathe her. Fuck! She smelled... not so good. He needed a shower, and he'd be doing laundry, so getting his clothes wet wasn't an issue.

First, he'd deal with the easy things. He rolled the carpet carefully and took it outside to the garbage bin. Then down to the basement to get a bucket of hot water and the mop. Upstairs to clean the floor, then dump the pail in the basement sink.

Back upstairs to get a towel to wipe up the side of the bed and her hair. That brought some weak moans from Dotty. He picked up his mother, who was only wearing a t-shirt, and carried her into the bathroom, where he set her in front of the toilet just in time for her to puke some more as he held her hair. He got the shower started, and she moaned in protest as she knew what was coming. Hoisting her to her feet, he walked into the shower with her weakly struggling to get away. The spray hit her, and she wailed softly. He got her to stand and rinsed her hair. She was softly crying as he did it, so he grit his teeth and hurried through the process. Her arms hung by her side, and she made no effort to assist him in any way. He pulled the shirt off and grabbed the bar of soap. He hastily scrubbed her body with the soap as she moaned and cooed in her drunken state. Face burning with anger and shame, he quickly washed between her legs and her ass. She gasped and clung weakly to him.

Relieved that was over, he quickly rinsed the soap away and washed her hair. She purred at the feeling of his hands in her hair. Rinsing the shampoo away, he turned off the water and wrapped his mom in an old beach towel before seating her on the toilet.

Assured she wouldn't topple onto the floor, he stepped back behind the curtain and stripped off his wet clothes. He washed and rinsed himself quickly.

When he stepped out, he held his clothes in front of himself as he looked for another towel.

"Do I disgust you?" Dotty asked in a weak voice.

He looked at her and saw her eyes were glazed and very sad.

"No, mom. I'm disappointed," he growled.

That was enough to start the tears, and he cursed himself.

He was such an ass. "Sorry, Mom. I didn't mean it. I love you."

There was only one more of the larger towels, so he grabbed it and held it in front of himself as he dropped the clothes into the hamper. He then turned his back on his mother and dried himself as best he could, knowing she was watching him. He didn't resent her for doing it. He knew she was still very drunk. He knew how much he reminded her of—

"Mateo?"

He sighed, then jolted as he felt fingers touching his ass. He pulled away and wrapped the towel around himself.

"No, mom. It's not Mateo. It's Raph. Your son," he said stiffly, and her tears started up again. Fuck!

He scooped her up and carried her back to her room, but he hadn't changed the sheets yet. He forced back a snarl of frustration and sat her in the chair by the foot of the bed. Her tears were tapering off as she faded. Then he rushed off to get the other set of sheets for her bed but discovered they were in the wash. He went to his room and pulled the sheets off his bed to put on hers. He had to do laundry anyway.

Raph quickly made her bed, then lifted his mother again, laid her down on the bed, and pulled the sheets up over her. She made an odd sound, so he glanced down at her.

She was pressing the sheets to her nose and inhaling his scent. He stared at her and shook his head. At least she wasn't crying. She was mumbling in her semi-conscious state, but he didn't want to know what she was saying, so he turned and left to get dressed in his room. The ratty shorts and an old t-shirt went back on.

He went downstairs and put away the groceries. The roast would have to wait until he got home tomorrow night when she got back from the club. He sighed. He still had lots of work to do before he'd be able to enjoy his bed.

He dropped into a kitchen chair for a moment to just catch his breath. Suddenly it all seemed too much, and he was tempted to get up, walk out the door and never come back. He sat facing the door for long minutes before he stood and carried the laundry basket to the basement.

He couldn't do that to Dotty. She'd had enough of people abandoning her.

Chapter 6

Monday morning found Raph wearing an apron again, but this time he was in a classroom. Helen Aikens' art class, to be precise. He stood before a small table upon which sat a huge block of reddish clay. Arranged around a central podium were other small tables with their own blocks of clay of different sizes, each with a student standing beside them. Sam was standing at the desk to his left and, as promised, she ignored him. Some of the other ladies in the class did not. He did his best to pretend not to notice their eyes on him.

He tried to hide his nervousness as this was a medium he'd never worked with before, and he didn't want to screw up. The teacher liked him, but he didn't take anything for granted.

Speaking of the teacher, Helen walked into the room with a woman who was wearing a white silk robe. "Good morning, people!" she chirped, and the students returned her greeting. "We have a special treat this morning. We have a guest with us today. I want to introduce you to a professional model and my friend, Patricia Lockheart." They said good morning to her as well, and she smiled and nodded to them in return.

Helen continued. "We're going to work with clay today, venturing into the realm of the third dimension. Firstly, I want you all to relax. This is an interpretive assignment. You're not going to be graded on your ability to mirror reality. We certainly won't have enough time in this class to complete your piece. I want you to express your perception of the model through the clay. While you're working, I'll be passing amongst you to pick up clues as to your process, and I may ask you to explain your vision so I can see how you're progressing." She watched her students' faces, then turned to the model and gestured for her to disrobe. Contrary to expectations, she wasn't nude under the gown but instead wore a two-piece outfit. On top was a thin four-inch-high band of white cloth around her torso covering her small breasts, and on the bottom, a white g-string.

The woman was in her late twenties and obviously worked out diligently. There was very little fat on her body, and her muscles weren't large, but they were nicely defined. Raph realized she would've been an excellent model for anatomy drawing. Sculpting, though, he was still unsure.

Patricia sat back against a tall stool with her left foot up and resting on a crossbar. She kept her legs together, which made her body seem to curve. Her hands relaxed on her hips in a defiant gesture, and she looked slightly to the right. Then she settled into the pose.

"Now that our subject is ready, I'd like you to take a moment to study her. See how the light plays across her body. Observe her stance. Think about what that evokes in you. Does it trigger a memory? Does it ignite your passion?"

Several of the students giggled.

"Yes, yes, get it out of your system," Helen sighed with a smile, and she caught the eyes of the gigglers. "Today, we study life, light, shadow, shape, beauty, and creativity. Inside the block of clay before you is the image forming in your minds. You've only to remove that which isn't part of the image. Begin!"

Raph shared a small smile with the teacher and looked towards the model. The first thing that struck him was the sinuous lines running from her neck, over her shoulders, racing outwards and around the tight bend of her elbows to return to the curve of her hips and legs. She... flowed.

Image set in his mind, he reached out and began pulling chunks of the clay away from the tall block. It was harder than he thought, and he had to use a fair amount of strength to do it. He let his mind roam over the contours of the image, following the lines. His hands began to move faster to clear the excess away to get to the lines trapped within the block. The unused clay fell unseen to the floor at his feet. He stopped when he had roughly the shape he was looking for. He found he was panting from the effort of working with the dense material.

He began squeezing and pressing his strong fingers across and into the clay to chase the lines he saw within it. Fingers, palms, wrists, and even his forearms were used to smooth the rough surface until he could see the lines emerging. His hands began to move slower with more deliberate motions to bring out the sleek curves of her torso. Pressing his fingertips against the smooth expanses he'd created, he added the fine detail lines of the model's defined musculature. He almost had it.

The bell rang to announce lunchtime, jolting Raph back to the now. He blinked and looked around the room and saw many of the other students were watching him with wide eyes. He glanced at the teacher, who had tears of joy in her eyes, and held a hand over her smiling mouth. She began clapping enthusiastically, and a few others joined in, almost including Sam, who caught herself abruptly when he glanced in her direction. She turned away and began preparing to leave.

"Oh my, Raphael! You've discovered untapped potential!" Helen gushed.

"If he'd found the tools in the table first, he could've done it a lot faster and stayed clean," Stephie Dulane noted in a snide tone and chuckled at her cleverness. The big-haired brunette was co-captain of the cheerleading squad and Sam's chief rival. She was smiling at Sam to share the joke with her, and Sam had to smile and nod to avoid suspicion.

"Ms. Dulane, what we've all just witnessed was raw artistic passion! It needs no tools!" Mrs. Aikens chastised her and gave Sam a disapproving look as well.

Raph frowned as he wasn't happy at all about the attention he was getting. Stephie was right about him being dirty. The skin on his hands, arms, and face felt tight from clay residue. He'd have another night of laundry duty.

The students began filing out of the room as they handed their aprons in and gathered their books. Some moved to get a closer look at Raph's work before they left. A bold few took pics with their cell phones.

Patricia walked down from the podium to take a look at what she'd inspired. The statue was of her torso, displaying the sleek and sensual curves from her neck to her knees. She smiled in appreciation. "That's really good!" she gushed.

Raph gave her a distracted nod then noticed what was missing. He pressed the tip of his pinky finger into the sculpture and gently stroked the result to contour it. Instant belly button and it was a pretty close match for her own. He gave it a little nod and stepped back.

The room emptied except for Helen, Patricia, and Raph. "Could I take a picture of you two standing on either side of the piece?" Helen asked, and they nodded.

Patricia copied her pose, and Raph crossed his arms in front of his chest and tried to smile for the camera. Helen got her pictures and smiled as she reviewed them.

"I should go clean up. Thank you for the experience. It was... interesting," Raph said quietly, still a little disturbed at having zoned out so completely in the classroom. He looked to the almost nude woman standing before him. "It was nice to meet you." She smiled and gave him a nod.

Helen walked up and touched his arm. "The art will be on display here in the school until the end of the term. Then you can take it home."

"I don't want it. I can't take it home," Raph said bluntly. He looked at Patricia. "Ms. Lockheart can have it if she wants it." The woman in question nodded enthusiastically. "I'd feel better if she took it right away. The less attention I get, the better it is for everyone. There's also a better than average chance someone will damage it if it remains at the school," he said with a frown.

Helen went to protest, then nodded sadly. Patricia looked between them in surprise, then mirrored Helen's sad look.

"I have to go if I'm going to get cleaned up before my next class. Thanks again," Raph said as he pulled off the apron, grabbed his books, and headed out.

He made his way to his locker and dropped off his books. He carefully took off his over-shirt and left it in the locker so he could wash up in the bathroom without getting the shirt wet.

As he locked up, he heard someone clearing their throat behind him. He turned, and Mr. McConnell was standing outside his classroom door, smirking at him. He was flanked by four members of his football team. They were all grinning smugly.

"I hear you've gone completely queer. It makes sense now why you won't join any of the teams. Look at you! Covered in shit!" the teacher said with a laugh, and his players joined in.

"If it makes you feel better to think that, sure," Raph said and walked away.

"Hah! I knew it!" the teacher barked out behind him. "Nothing but a faggot!"

As he reached the bathroom entrance, Ms. Lockheart rounded the corner and called out to him. He stopped and smiled as he admired her figure as she approached. She'd slipped on some shorts, a short top that left her hard stomach exposed, and some strappy pumps that accentuated her toned legs.

"I wanted to thank you again for that amazing art piece before I left. I'm going to have a bronze made from it," she said with an excited look.

"You're welcome. I hope it turns out," he said.

"Listen, if you ever wanted to do another piece, I'd be willing to model for you again, no charge. With less clothing as well," she said with a cheeky grin.

He looked into her eyes and saw she was serious. He noticed she had pretty hazel eyes. He nodded politely, then she was suddenly pressing her body against him, and her mouth was on his. Damn! She was a good kisser, but it was a little jarring to feel hard muscles instead of a soft female form. Not bad, just different.

As quickly as she kissed him, she pulled back and grinned as she walked backward down the hall towards the exit. He felt a painful pinch and absent-mindedly adjusted himself in his pants to relieve the pressure. She grinned happily, biting her lower lip, then turned and rushed away. She squeaked in surprise, then giggled at the dumbfounded looks on the teacher and the four young men with him as she quickly passed. They saw two clay handprints on the ass of her shorts as she hustled away.

Mr. McConnell turned to look back at Raph, who finally noticed his audience and shrugged. He stepped inside the bathroom. He had clay to wash off.

-=-

Sam felt terrible for joining in on ridiculing Raphael in the art class. Truth be told, she'd been in awe of the piece he'd created and tingled as she thought back on how intense he'd been while he worked on it. She agreed with Mrs. Aikens. They saw his raw passion, and it was thrilling. She trembled a bit.

"Hey, Sugarlips!"

Sam squeaked and jumped as Victor's arms went around her from behind. He pulled her tight against his hard muscles and rubbed her ass with his groin. A thrill went through her body, and she almost moaned, but she got control of herself and pushed his arms away to spin out of his grip.

"What are you doing?!?" she hissed.

"What the hell? I was just hugging my girl!" Victor growled indignantly.

"Humping. That wasn't hugging!"

Victor gave her a crooked smile and shrugged. "What can I say? You bring out my passionate side!"

Sam's mind flashed to an image of Raph's dark eyes intense with concentration and his strong hands caressing the clay into the sensuous shape of the model's torso. She bit her lip as she recalled what real passion looked like.

Victor misinterpreted her gesture and moved to pull her against him again.

"No!" she said, pushing his hands away and looking around at the other students in the hall. She caught a few watching them.

He frowned and leaned back to look at her. "What is with you? Acting all hot then cold, then hot and back to cold. Such a tease!"

She blinked at him, and then her brows came down in anger. "I'm not a tease! I just don't like being pawed in public!"

He leaned in to whisper to her. "Then how about we go somewhere private?"

Her body tingled with the idea of being with Victor in her bedroom or even his, but she knew that would screw up everything! No, she had to stick to the plan. Even when her body wanted to enjoy the bliss right now, she had to think of her future. She sighed and saw him deflate as he realized she was going to refuse him once more.

"I have a class now, and later I need to study for this week's midterms," she explained quietly.

"I'm getting the most intense case of blue balls!" he groaned.

She snorted and grinned at him. "I never said you couldn't touch yourself."

Victor's jaw dropped at her cheeky comment, and he burst into a loud laugh. She giggled as she grabbed her books for her next class, locked the locker, and skipped away as he watched her leave.