“Unfortunately, not all those in attendance will ever see past the subject matter. They’re here simply to quench their thirst, to own something provocative, something that fills a void in their lives or provides the shock and awe factor when they hold a dinner party with a few of their closest friends.”

Ruby nodded her acknowledgment, and with Bennett acting as her silent shadow, Ruby moved across the room. She stopped in front of an oil painting depicting a metropolis skyline, except in place of towering buildings of glass and steel, there were silicone vibrators and jelly dildos. “Your collection?”

Bennett’s eyes creased at the corners, and she studied the painting for a moment. “Close, but not quite.”

It was Ruby’s turn to smile. “It’s very colorful.”

“Yes, it is. I’ll never understand, though, why pink, purple, and blue are the prevailing sex toy colors, and speaking of colors, that’s exactly what makes this painting special.”

“Okay?”

“Look closely. Just don’t touch.”

Ruby stepped up to the painting, and then she moved even closer. “It’s dots.”

“It’s called pointillism, a technique created by Georges Seurat and Paul Signac in the late 1800s. They believed that a person’s mind and eye could blend colors instead of the artist doing it, thus creating a much broader spectrum, a larger palette, so to speak.”

“Interesting.”

“Yes, and they were ridiculed for it. It’s actually how the style got its name. The art world was accustomed to the strokes of brushes and blending paint on a board, so Seurat and Signac were mocked. Pardon the pun, but they were painting outside the lines, outside of tradition, and it didn’t sit well at first. It wasn’t until Georges Seurat finished A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte when people started to sit up and take notice. What astounds me is that the painting is famous, and even those not interested in art are familiar with it, yet all they see is a bunch of people strolling in a park. They don’t see the talent it took to complete that piece, the patience, the exactness to paint something dot by dot and fill a canvas ten feet wide.”

Focused on the pointillism skyline of sex toys, when the room became quiet, Bennett looked at Ruby and saw the woman grinning back at her. “I’m sorry,” Bennett said. “I didn’t mean to lecture.”

“You didn’t, and you obviously enjoy art.”

“I do. Very much.”

Ruby moved to the next painting hanging on the wall. “So, have you enjoyed this as well?”

Already knowing the watercolor displayed a threesome engaged in gratuitous sex, Bennett laughed. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I have. Many times, actually.” When Ruby’s eyebrows rose, Bennett laughed again. “You keep forgetting I’ve been around for a while. There’s truly not much I haven’t done.”