The Guest Artist

It had never occurred to him that the compass wouldn’t work somewhere. Even without one he would’ve assumed he could’ve easily found his way around by using the position of the Sun to navigate. Now, stuck in a forest with a thick canopy of branches hiding an even thicker canopy of dark clouds that were already beginning to drizzle, his compass going around in circles, Reggie had to admit he had no clue where he was or where he ought to go. Seeking higher ground in the hopes of finding some kind of landmark might be a good idea, but where was higher ground? He saw trees, plenty of trees, and shrubbery, plenty of shrubbery, and the ground certainly had more elevation in some places and less in others, but nowhere did he see the kind of hill that might grant him a view above the trees.
All that in and of itself would’ve been bad enough, but then Reggie went and stumbled. The pain in his ankle indicated a sprain. He had to wobble and hop ahead from that point on, keeping his weight on just one foot. He looked for a stick that could work as a crutch and found one, but it snapped and broke almost immediately. The drizzle was getting worse. It was getting darker. He was getting wetter and colder. One would expect that a person in such a situation would feel fear, but for Reggie all he felt was irritation. He’d come to the woods looking for beautiful scenery and vistas and things to draw. He’d wanted to get away from grey, dull concrete and artificial lights and mass-produced clothing and all those things that filled his field of vision with their banality in the city. It was too wet to draw though, his paper would be ruined. He’d wrapped all his pads in plastic bags of course and had those in his backpack, but if he couldn’t draw what use was being here? He wanted to leave. But where to? This annoyed him greatly. Reggie wasn’t the kind of person to consider potential threats, such as hypothermia or predators or hunger or thirst, oh no. There was nothing out here that could hurt him, he was important. He was an artist, and nature itself owed him too much to endanger him.
Reggie kept hopping along until it got too dark to really see so he found a spruce with thick branches and crawled under it. He considered taking advantage of the relative aridity of this locale to sketch out Eeyore to let his feelings express themselves. He’d heard it said that if one walked along the Ley Lines of the land and performed some sort or artistic endeavour one could encounter a Leanan Sidhe, a sort of Fairy that was in essence a muse you could carry in your pocket. He wasn’t exactly looking for one, though. It would be sufficient to find something of beauty, something good and genuine and pure, something that he could consider a feat of natural aesthetics, and then with his pen he’d sketch it out and capture it on paper. And maybe paint it. But paint was expensive and modern painting didn’t appreciate true aesthetics anyway, just post-modern trash. Reggie was too good for all that, wasn’t he? Even though he wasn’t a big name in any circles, he felt he was destined for greatness. Not for personal glory of course, but for the betterment of mankind. In nature, he believed, could the salvation of art, and through art that of the soul, be found. He wasn’t going to find anything in his current miserable condition however. Maybe if he could capture the solitude and melancholy of being lost in a forest in a rainstorm… but this returned to the problem of being able to capture anything on paper with all the water about. What he needed was a….
A light. He saw one. With all the darkness surrounding him it was rather easy to make out now. Not too far away either, for a hale man anyway. Reggie got up and began limping up the slippery, rooty, mossy terrain. The light was bobbing along, someone was carrying it. But it wasn’t moving away from him, it was moving sideways. He could intercept it…
Reggie slipped and tumbled. His knee stuck a rock. He cursed, crawled up and brushed wet leaves and whatnot off of his clothes and kept skipping along on one foot. He called out to the light now, seeing as he was close enough to see a silhouette around it. The light stopped, turned, and began approaching him as he called out again. They met and Reggie saw the person walking in the forest, holding an antique lantern in one hand and an umbrella in the other. From both shoulders there hung bags, with a massive backpack keeping the figure leaning slightly back. All bodily features were hidden by a thick, dark raincoat that ran all the way to the figure’s shins, revealing massive boots, far bigger than what Reggie wore. From under the hood and umbrella no face was visible.
“I…” he blurted out, a little taken aback by this encounter. Why was this person going through the trouble of carrying a damned umbrella on top of the raincoat? Was the lantern even of any use to someone whose head was hidden under the rim of it? If it had been something someone else had drawn, Reggie would’ve described the design as overly busy.
“You seem distraught” the figure said in a voice that Reggie could only deduce belonged to a woman.
“Well, yes, I, my ankle, I…” he babbled.
“I see”
The figure closed her umbrella, put it through the lantern’s handle and thus held it up with the umbrella, offering her freed arm to Reggie, who leaned over. Thus supported he began to follow along the anonymous woman. He was beginning to shiver a little and noted that no warmth was forthcoming from her. Must’ve been the thick raincoat…
“Where are we…?” he tried to ask.
“Home” came the reply. Her home?
“And how far is that?”
“Not far”
How reassuring.
“If you can’t manage I will carry you”
“That’s fine…”
“Fine”
“Yes”
“Hm”
They continued along in silence until they arrived at a dirt road. As far as Reggie could tell the road merely started here, in the middle of nowhere. Or did that mean it ended here? In any case there didn’t seem to be anything here. They walked along this road for a bit until they came to a gate, a wrought iron gate, attached to an iron fence sitting atop a stone foundation that ran in both directions as far as the eye could see (though in this darkness that wasn’t very far) and Reggie wondered if he’d somehow gotten lost and trespassed into a private area. The woman supporting him waved her umbrella-lantern and the gate opened with a creak. Motion censors?
They stepped through and the game closed behind them. The road was now surrounded on both sides by neatly planted hedges and the occasional trees. Other roads crisscrossed and intersected them, running into the darkness, but they didn’t step on any of these, just kept on walking. Reggie was beginning to feel feverish. He wondered if it might not have been better for him to have carried the umbrella and shield himself from additional rain in these past few moments. He raised the subject.
“This did not occur to me” the woman admitted.
“Well can I have it now?” Reggie asked.
“Fine”
She gave him the umbrella and held on to the lantern herself. Reggie was now shielded from additional rain but found it a slim comfort, he’d been plenty wet as is. He’d get pneumonia from this, he just knew it, and when you’re sick what can you draw? Nothing! Fevers bring on visions and none of them will mean a damn thing because when you see them you lack the coordination to capture them on paper and when you’re all better you can no longer SEE them so you’ll never get them right…
He saw another light. In a window. There was a house… no. A mansion. It had to have at least three floors from what he could tell, and it ran to the left and to the right further than he could see. The woman led him to the steps of the front porch, stone steps that led them under a protective balcony. Another wave from the woman opened the massive front doors, which shut themselves behind them. At last indoors!
The woman let go of him and he slumped against a rickety chair that seemed to appear there very conveniently.  His hands let go of the umbrella, but it was caught.
“I will be back” the woman said and disappeared through a door with the lantern. Reggie was left in the darkness, listening to the ever increasing torrent of rain drum against windows, walls and roofs, to water gurgling in gutters and to the creaking of an old house. This place was his salvation, and he would draw it come morning, oh yes. It’s the least he could do, immortalize the place. He began to tug at his shirt collar and open his coat. He was so damned warm all of a sudden…
A door opened and the woman with the lantern returned. She was no longer dressed in rain clothing, but in a plain blue dress and an apron. Her skin looked rather pale and there was something funny about her head, like her hair some ornaments that he couldn’t quite…
“You’re forming a puddle. Desist” she said, and dropped a basket on to the floor.
“Place your wet clothing in there and wear the robes” she pointed to the robes in question inside the basket, “and you will then accompany me to the bath”
Having said that she turned her back to him and Reggie saw something fluffy hanging at the back of her dress. This is exactly the kind of thing that a fewer caused, he thought. He could’ve sworn she had a tail, there.
Reggie put his wet clothing in the basket, left his bag on the chair and slipped into the robes. He had trouble staying up but the woman grabbed him again and told him to carry the basket. They went through a door, entered a massive hall with marble floors and Persian carpeting on it and portraits on the walls and too many other details for Reggie to comprehend. They went up a staircase, then down a hallway, and arrived in a room with war moisture in the air. Reggie didn’t mind that so much, though he had no real desire of getting wet again. A nice, warm bath might be nice, though…
“So this is the poor thing, Milja?” a voice asked, and Reggie looked into the pool of water built right into the floor, seeing the figure of another woman hidden by foam and steam.
“Yes ma’am. His foot seems hurt”
“Oh, that must be awful. Do you think he’s terribly cold?”
“I don’t know ma’am”
“Well lower him here just in case, will you dear?”
“Aye”
With one gesture the woman called Milja took the basket from Reggie’s hands and pushed it aside, undid his robes and lifted him up as if he was a child, lowering him into the heated water. At first the heat made him cry out, but as his body got over the initial shock he felt very, very good all of a sudden.
“I will be seeing to the guest’s clothing now” said Milja and pattered out. Reggie was left in the water feeling dizzy, weak and bodily tired but mentally somehow very awake. Or maybe his mind was groggy and his body was awake. In any case he felt powerless and as if he should lose consciousness but his awareness refused to give out. The room was lit by candles. There was a scent of flowers and things in the air. It was nice… from somewhere soothing music was playing and sloshing of water sounded as someone neared him…
“Are you awake?” a woman’s voice asked from somewhere close by, but he was too enamoured by the fresco on the ceiling to look at her. It was too dark to make out properly what the fresco was about, but…
Something moved his head from side to side and he saw an eerie blue glow, but it was gone before he could really think about it. Fever again…
“You’re awake but awfully quiet. I hope you’re not too sick…
“I’m fine” he mumbled.
“Ah, the mystery man speaks!”
“Reggie”
“What’s that dear?”
“Name’s Reggie. Short for Reginald”
“Enchante, Reginald. I’m Ilona, and you’ve already had the pleasure of meeting Milja, who is my maid. Are you sure you’re quite alright? You seem a little out of it”
“Out of what?”
“Indeed”
The glow returned and something held him by his shoulders, correcting his posture so he was now facing the woman Ilona. Her hair was wet and her skin just as pale as her maid’s. In such hot water and still so pale…
“You’re pale” Reggie mumbled.
“Well, that’s only to be expected. You’re rather pale yourself and that might not be such a good thing. I fear I must take action for the preservation of your life, just in case it is in jeopardy from hypothermia, you understand”
“No…”
“Oh really now! You’re so cold you think you’re hot and don’t even realize it! Happens to the living all the time, I’m sure…”
Reggie shrugged. Maybe it did…
“Now don’t you go nodding off on me or I’ll be very cross with you Reginald”
“Hm?”
She was very close to him now. Her breasts were almost touching him as she crouched over him in the water. There was an uncertain look in her eyes as she regarded him. A slender hand came out of the water and felt his forehead.
“I’m afraid I can’t tell at all how it should feel” she sighed. “Better safe than sorry, of course…”
“What?”
“In scenarios such as this, it is not uncommon for one to share their body heat with the patient, yes? I’ve not much to give, usually, but with the bath water, why, I’m sure I’ll snatch you from death’s door to your, hm, eternal gratitude?”
“If you say so”
“Oh I do say so! You just relax while I…”
Reggie jumped when Ilona’s fingers squeezed around his dick.
“Wait a minute now…”
“Oh hush! It’s for your own good, you know”
She rubbed him and he responded accordingly. Something held his arms from moving.
“Now don’t you go looking at me in that way young man! You’ll embarrass me!” she rebuked him when he stared at her dumbfounded, and somehow without either of her hands moving the belt of his bathrobes wrapped itself around his eyes.
“There, that’s better” Ilona said, caressing him, her breasts pushing against his chest.
“Just you hold on and I’ll make it all better…”
“Ma’am, what are you doing?” Milja’s voice asked.
Ilona flinched away from him and suddenly the pressure keeping his arms still disappeared.
“O-oh, nothing, I, well you see his fever…”
“He has a fever?”
“I… I wouldn’t know, would I dear? This seems like it requires more, hm, expertise?”
A brief silence filled the room, during which Reggie began to feel his consciousness fade.
“Perhaps ma’am would like to leave such frivolity for when the guest is more capable of performing?” Milja asked.
“Oh, must I?”
“In his current state he’s hardly any good, ma’am. He’ll be more, eh, fun, when he’s fit and fine”
“But he’s soooo waaaaarm~”
“I see no harm in enjoying that a little” Milja admitted, and Reggie felt the maid kneel behind his head, petting his hair, running her fingers through it.
“He’s positively hot” she pointed out, feeling his forehead.
“Oh Milja you filthy animal!”
The giggles of the two women was the last thing Reggie remembered that night.

			***