Fetish

iv. one million dollars

When Cathy arrived at the Rascal Gallery to pose for Professor Russell's students once again, she was surprised to see a new student - and that student was no one other than the young man who had been sitting next to her during Russell's lecture at Columbia. Catherine felt immediately embarrassed at being noticed by him, and she is not an easy person to embarrass. Russell seemed to have noticed her discomfort when asking if she was ready.

- Something wrong? - He asked.

- Who is that guy? - Cathy asked. - The new guy. I thought you didn't accept new students after the course started.

- Oh, that's Alex. Alexander Kirst, he was my student at NYU during graduation, so I accepted him. And because his father owns a dozen galleries… But I never said that.

- He's the guy I was teasing that day during your lecture. What a bad coincidence.

- Welcome to the art world, love. You can't hide from anyone.

Alex Kirst seemed to have recognized Cathy, but he seemed to be twice as embarrassed as she was. She pretended not to recognize him, to see if he would talk to her or something, but he wouldn't meet her eyes – a curious attitude for someone who would spend two hours staring at her naked body. He was young, nothing too special about his appearance, some weird quirks like snapping his wrist all the time. At the end of class, he introduced himself to Catherine, as if he'd never seen her before. Cathy chose to act accordingly.

The weeks flew by and Catherine had to juggle her duties at Columbia, the Bastille, and the Rascal Gallery. Professor Myers was very impressed with the new insights and improvements to her thesis; Cathy was living and breathing art. By the end of the course, works produced by Russell's students had a limited showing at Rascal and Cathy was present at the opening, walking through the gallery with a glass of champagne in her hand, watching sixteen representations of herself through other people's eyes. People at the opening stopped her to chat, which was perhaps just an excuse to admire her up close, as if she were part of that exhibition. It was a little exhausting, even for a girl who is used to dancing all night for a living.

The money Cathy made in the art world was very good, but it didn't make her rich. Two months later, she was still performing on the Bastille stage. She wouldn't let go of poles until all her loans were paid off, that was for sure. Instead of inspiring men to make art, she inspired them to throw money at her. One Friday night, she was backstage getting ready to perform in lingerie made solely of tiny gold chains, customized for her. A big surprise for her was seeing Professor Russell sitting in the front row to watch her show.

- A month of staring at my t**s regularly wasn't enough? - Catherine said, after her dance. They went upstairs and sat at a more reserved table on the mezzanine. Russell laughed.

- Good to see you too. - He said.

- How was Paris? - Cathy asked. Russell raised his left hand and showed his ring finger; he was wearing his wedding ring.

- I'm very happy for you, but I should punch you in the face now. - Catherine said.

- Why?

- You just got your wife back and the first thing you do is come to a strip club!?

- We are not monogamous.

- Bullshit, she doesn't know you're here, does she?

- No. - he rolled his eyes - But I'm not here for the strippers, I'm here for you.

- I happen to be a stripper.

- I have good news, do you want to hear it or not?

- Of course. - She smiled - While we wait for the bottle of Veuve Clicquot that I ordered in your account.

- I won't complain. Champagne is for celebrations and you, Ms. West, have plenty of reasons to celebrate.

- Continue.

- One of the Rascal Classes paintings was sold a few hours ago for half a million dollars.

Half a million dollars… That number didn't even seem real. The paintings weren't for sale yet, but there were so many interested buyers that the gallery planned to organize an auction in a few weeks. A buyer offered five hundred thousand dollars to take the painting before the auction. Catherine left the club in a hurry and headed home, incredulous at what had just happened. She told the news to Ella and they both jumped on the couch until the neighbors complained. If not for Ella, it wouldn't matter if the painting was sold for five or five hundred million dollars, but thanks to her Catherine was entitled to 15% of that sale. She received an email from the gallery requesting a meeting. She knew they would try to get her to back out of the deal somehow, but it didn't matter - that money was hers and no one was going to take it away from her. Ella defended her interests, even with the help

from other lawyers in her firm. The gallery had no choice but to accept her terms, otherwise they wouldn't be able to go through with the auction. And there were still another fifteen paintings to be sold.

By the end of the auction, Catherine J. West had more than a million dollars in her bank account.

It wasn't just the money from the sale of the paintings that transformed Cathy's life. She was getting paid for basically breathing. Rascal's phenomenon turned her into a kind of star, everyone wanted a piece of her. Invitations to fashion shows, plays and terrace parties kept coming. Photographers hungry for a shoot with her. But Cathy was smart and knew that this kind of attention came at a price, it would only saturate her image and make her look dull - maybe even cheap. Knowing better than that, she carefully chose her works, doing her best to keep around her an aura of mystery and secrecy; who was Rascal's muse? The girl who put unknown artists in the public eye? Nobody needed to know very well. The less realistic she looked, the better.

Freshly graduated in French Literature from Columbia University, Catherine stared at her diploma on the wall of her new apartment and wondered: what's next? Officially retired from strip poles and ballet shoes, she thought about what to do. She never thought of doing anything with that degree, she studied for the pleasure of studying and for the satisfaction of saying that she had studied and earned a degree at a very competitive university. Her life was pretty comfortable at the time, but money eventually runs out and she knew she would never want to be in financial trouble again. In the midst of this dilemma, Ella knocked on her door with a bottle of wine for a movie night.

- Cat, something crazy happened today. - Ella said, even before saying “hi” to her friend.

- Hello for you too. - Cathy said, rolling her eyes.

- Did you order sushi from that place we like?

- Yes, I did. Go back to that crazy thing.

- Oh yeah! - She said excitedly. - I got a call at work today, they were asking about you.

- About me? Who is they?

- He was an assistant to one of our clients. His boss wanted your contact, I said you weren't available. The assistant said he is interested in hiring you for a session.

- Session of what? Photos or s*x?

- No, i***t. An art session, he wants you to pose for him!

- And you again said that I'm not available, right?

- I said I'd pass you the message.

- Ella, I need to preserve my image! If I pose for anyone, every art inspired by me loses its value, my face loses its value!

- He's not just anyone, Catherine. It's Andrew Lowe. He's a f*****g billionaire! Well, his father is a billionaire, but soon...

- I have no idea who this guy is, I've certainly never seen a painting of his.

- His family runs a luxury holding, art is probably just a hobby, but it doesn't matter! He's a hot thirty-five year old billionaire, and, if I googled it right, single.

- How hot are we talking?

Ella pulled out her cell phone and opened the gallery to show Cathy the few recent photos of the mysterious man known as Andrew Xavier Lowe. “He's cute,” Catherine admitted, but in addition to being handsome, he was eerily familiar.

- Let me negotiate with his assistant. - Ella said. - Money, image rights and everything else.

- Ells, this guy wants to f**k me. - Catherine said. - He's probably using this art session thing for this. You and I have only been single so far because we know the rich are completely insane.

- What if I research more about this guy? Look through the company files, see what kind of s**t we had to do for him in the past… Maybe he's normal. Just very rich and mysterious.

- I'll think about it. Why are you so excited about this?

- I'm not excited about this. - Ella said, laughing. - I'm excited about you becoming a billionaire divorcee!