Warhol's Prophecy

said. ‘I’m not even sure it bothered him that much. With him being a vicar, he probably thought it was the Will of God or some shit like that.’ There was disdain in his voice. ‘How did you feel when Rob cheated on you?’

‘Angry, hurt and puzzled. I know it might sound big-headed, but I’d always thought I was quite good-looking – good figure and all that. I didn’t understand what she could give him that I couldn’t. Perhaps she was better in bed than I was.’

‘Aren’t mistresses supposed to do things in bed that wives won’t do?’ Walker smiled. ‘That’s the usual excuse, isn’t it?’

‘Rob never missed out on anything,’ she said defiantly.

That’s it. Tell him your sexual details too.

‘Even after I had Becky, we still had a good sex life,’ she continued. ‘He didn’t have to look anywhere else for blow-jobs or any of his little fantasies.’ She lowered her gaze. ‘I’m sorry, Adam.’

‘Are you still angry with him?’

She nodded. ‘I wanted to hurt him the way he hurt me.’ She smiled wanly. ‘Caroline said that I should have an affair.’

She looked deeply into Walker’s eyes. The silence between them seemed to stretch into an eternity.

She reached out and touched the back of his hand gently.

Go on. Do it. Do it now.

‘And what do you think about that?’ he wanted to know.

She could feel her heart thudding more insistently against her ribs, her breathing becoming a little more ragged. There was both heat and moisture between her legs as she squeezed her thighs together and shifted on the chair.

‘I think if you’re going to do that, you have to be careful who you do it with,’ she breathed. ‘It’s a dangerous game to play.’

And do you want to play it?

She was still tracing her index finger gently across the back of his hand, aware that the digit was shaking slightly.

He put his hand over hers and squeezed gently, closing his own fingers around hers.

Hailey could feel her nipples pressing insistently against her bra. Her whole body felt as if it was ablaze. Her cheeks were flushed.

Walker, too, fidgeted slightly on his chair, his gaze never leaving hers.

‘Is that what it would be?’ he said softly. ‘A game?’

He felt her foot rubbing slowly against his calf.

As Hailey crossed her legs she felt a steadily growing warmth envelope her. It was as if her blood had been replaced by liquid fire. She sat back slowly, allowing her hand to slip from his, aware of the almost palpable atmosphere in the room.

She ran a hand through her hair and swallowed hard.

‘Show me this artwork you were talking about,’ she said finally.

Walker smiled again.

41

THE ROOM ALSO lay towards the rear of the house. Perhaps twenty feet square, it was in complete darkness. Any light that might have encroached was kept out by a pair of thick velvet curtains.

As Walker flicked on the lights and the two fluorescent tubes in the ceiling sputtered into life, Hailey could smell paint. She could also see that the walls on two sides were covered by illustrations of various kinds, and in assorted styles and mediums.

Paintings, sketches, pencil drawings, even watercolours.

There were a number of empty canvases to her right and, at one end of the room, several others of varying sizes, covered by sheets. There was a desk with a single high-backed chair, the desk surface littered with all the paraphernalia of an artist. Tubes of oil paint, brushes, pencils.

She took a step inside the room and Walker closed the door behind her.

‘Well, this is it,’ he said. ‘It used to be a dining room but it’s my studio now.’ He smiled thinly. ‘That sounds so grand, doesn’t it?’

He walked to the other end of the room and pulled open the velvet curtains, allowing some natural light to flood in.

Hailey looked around, mesmerized by the array of pictures, amazed at their diversity and also at the skill that had gone into creating them.

‘Tell me about them,’ she said quietly, moving towards one painting on the wall. It showed a pair of red, cat- like eyes leering towards the viewer, framing a clenched fist that held a long knife.

‘That one was a book cover,’ Walker said. ‘I forget the name of the book. The one beside it was for a record company.’

It showed a slender, naked woman reclining in the arms of a powerfully muscled creature bearing the head of a goat and looking down at her. She was smiling towards the viewer, the tip of her tongue touching her upper lip.

‘I called that “Animal Passion”,’ said Walker, smiling.

Hailey then noticed that the goat-headed body sported a large erect penis.

‘Did they actually use it?’ she wanted to know, nodding towards the massive erection.

Walker shook his head.

Next was a pencil drawing, about ten by eight, of two beautiful women, both naked, facing each other. The one on the left had her hand on the other’s breast; the one on the right had pushed one index finger between the labia of the other.

‘What about this one?’ Hailey asked.

‘That was for me,’ Walker chuckled.

‘Did someone model for it?’

‘I should be so lucky.’

‘Was it done from memory?’

‘One of the girls was a friend.’

Hailey ran her own index finger over the sketch, then moved to the next one.

This was a painting of a small baby being held aloft by its ankle, dangling over the gaping, tooth-filled mouth of a tiger.

‘Feeding Time,’ said Walker, standing close beside her. ‘Another one for a record company.’

‘Which band used it?’

‘They didn’t tell me. Just said what the album was called, and left it up to me.’

There was another nude: another woman. One arm stretched above her head, nipples painted to appear erect. The eyes were closed as if she was in ecstasy, the legs open. Her other hand rested between them, fingers stirring the carefully painted pubic hair.

‘Another one from memory?’ Hailey asked, her voice catching as she stared at the picture.

It was so detailed, so accurate, it might have been a photo.

Walker nodded.

She was aware of how close he was standing. She could practically feel his breath on her neck, but she made no attempt to move.

You don’t want to move, do you?

Her eyes remained on the painted breasts. Hailey’s own nipples were stiffened points now.

You want his hands on you, don’t you?

There was another large painting towards the end of the room.

This was a crucifixion. Christ was naked, his face upturned to heaven, but the eyes were closed not in agony but in pleasure. He was smiling, despite the nails driven through his wrists and feet, the blood dripping from the