Mummy's Good Girl

Part 2

A couple of days ago, my whole life turned upside-down, all in one day, Wednesday the 16th of Tishrei 5780, the middle of Sukkot. Actually, it's more like my whole life had been upside-down, and it suddenly came rightway-up. I suddenly found myself in a relationship with Joyce Urquhart, the smartest, sweetest, sexiest, cuddliest woman in the universe, my wonderful Mummy. Somehow she fell in love, nearly at first sight, with weirdo me -- me?! -- and I fell in love right back at her. All my myriad weirdo qualities and embarrassing inadequacies turn out to be things that she adores and wants me to be proud of. She took charge of my life, getting me out of my dead-end convenience store job and into a fine arts degree program. She rescued me from my rat-hole apartment, and now I'm living with her in her cozy duplex, with my own studio space in the basement. She even got my parents to apologize for treating me like the black sheep of the family all these years. And then there's the mind-blowing, heart-melting sex, available on demand -- her demand or mine it doesn't much matter which -- I feel like the proverbial kid turned loose in the candy store. I'm Mummy's good girl.

* * *

Well, the arts program part isn't a done deal yet. When Mummy first presented the idea to me, I was a bit distracted by the immediate prospect of SEX with this gorgeous, fantastic woman; I didn't really have time to ponder what this new direction for my life would mean. If it works out, I'll be able to give all my time to my colou -- my art ... and to pleasing Mummy. That still sounds too good to be true; Mummy herself seems too good to be true, but she's real all right: the well-used state of my pussy confirms it. Anyway, Mummy's friend Dr Masha Olenkova is coming over this morning to look at my drawings. I've got a lot riding on what she thinks of them -- though she has seen a few of them already. She might look at the rest of my stuff and say sorry, no talent here after all. But even if that happens, even if the whole art career idea goes up in smoke, I know Mummy will still love me and want to take care of me. She told me so last night, as she held me in her arms.

When Masha arrives at our house (I'm still excited to call it that), I'm a little intimidated at first by her get-up -- a mint-green felt cape, big dangly earrings, mint-green horn-rim glasses -- I guess this is what artsy people wear. Mummy bustles around the kitchen, making tea, serving slices of the strudel she baked for us.

'So this is Chavah, our prodigy', Masha smiles. She kisses me on both cheeks, European-style. Masha has a mild Russian accent, tinged with British English; her voice is low and reassuring. Maybe Mummy warned her not to come on too strong, or maybe Masha herself has a kind of maternal energy that puts me at ease. It helps that Mummy is sitting right beside me, holding my hand. Masha begins to look through my collection of drawings. I had arranged them in chronological order, but she rearranges them by theme: butterflies, cats, flowers. She smiles.

'Your colours are exciting. There's a lot of raw power here, yes, and a good eye. Your challenge will be in developing nuance. Your pictures scream, my dear; sometimes it's only necessary to whisper. This one,' she holds up one of my recent butterfly pictures, 'is heading in the right direction. The juxtaposition of colours works perfectly with the design, it doesn't go overboard.'

I nod. That is the butterfly picture that I am most proud of. It feels good to hear Masha confirm my own judgement. In the last couple of days, I've churned out six more pictures of Mummy, three of them nudes (at Mummy's request). Masha now turns to these.

'Ah! Now these ... these are not screams, nor are they whispers. These, my dear, are poetry. Congratulations. This is exactly what I meant by nuance. You have great power, and you have sensitivity too. These nudes combine a kind of innocent naiveté with a powerful erotic awareness.'

Yup, I think, that's me to a T: naive and erotically obsessed with Mummy.

'I told you Masha! Isn't she amazing?' Mummy kvells, squeezing my hand excitedly.

This feeling of having someone be actually proud of me is still so new to me -- it feels so freaking good -- if Masha weren't here, I could totally come just from the way Mummy is squeezing my hand, just from the look of love in her eyes. As soon as Masha leaves, I'm gonna need some serious love-making time with Mummy.