Heaven Tastes Like Peaches

"They are more beautiful than in the pictures," said the young sheikh suddenly. "I have never seen such precise and smooth lines in wood. The sculptor had to put a lot of work and heart into them. Apparently he is very young.

"Yes. He's only eighteen."

"Really?" The sheikh was surprised. "Although ..."

His eyes wandered over the figurines depicting a naked or wrapped man in various poses expressing his warm and sensual feelings.

"Does the author have more of these sculptures?" He asked.

"Yes," admitted Henryk. "He has a few more."

Henryk swallowed. It seemed that Sławek's works were attracting more attention than he had expected. Prince Yussuf ibn Muhmud seemed genuinely interested in them.

"I don't have photos yet ..."

"I want to see them live. And get to know the artist."

This statement was surprising. The Arab prince bought works of art all over the world, but Kowalski had never heard of that he was ever interest in artist himself.

Was it because of the subject matter, he thought, assuming strange suspicions. The prince is probably not interested in Sławek in this way. After all, the sheikh's collection already included works on a similar subject, and he had never wanted to meet their author. So why exactly Domejczuk?"

"If I may ask where the interest in this boy comes from ...?"

The prince did not answer. He just smiled mysteriously. This upset Kowalski even more, and his forebodings intensified. He did not know the erotic preferences of the sheikh, but he was aware that the character of Sławek's works could arouse some unconscious desires or sophisticated fantasies. The Arab prince was spoiled and rich. Typical billionaire. People like him are used to getting what they want. They got it with money or force. For them, there was nothing beyond their reach. So if a spoiled prince had some whim about an eighteen-year-old, sensitive artist, the boy might have a real problem.

On the other hand, Kowalski had no proof that the sheikh's intentions were dangerous. It is true that the prince was a representative of culture and environment about which Henryk knew almost nothing, but he was educated in Europe - first a Swiss boarding school, then studies at Oxford - so he knew its customs and laws.

Prince was intelligent and polished, and although he was almost thirty years old, he was not involved in any scandal. He was interested in art, especially when it went beyond certain social or aesthetic norms, and the one created by Sławek definitely was. There was something unique about it that could definitely arouse curiosity towards the author. That was why an Emirati prince might want to meet him.

Besides, he was a really good customer, rich and generous, and his patronage, if he took Sławek under his wing, could bring the boy many benefits.

"Well, when will I be able to meet this talented young man?" The sheikh asked smiling mysteriously.

Kowalski swallowed. The smile was disturbing and suspicious. There was definitely more to it than just curiosity. However, he could not suspect this educated aristocrat for the worst.

"The boy is currently working on a large project ..."

"Pieta" prince guessed.

"Yes. Eventually, after a long time, he managed to get back to carving, so I don't think now is the right time to take his mind off it. Artists are very sensitive and a meeting with the sheikh will surely distract him."

"Well, you are probably right, Mr. Henryk," the prince admitted, his smile taking on a slightly predatory appearance. "So let's leave the boy alone. For now. I am looking forward to this pieta. But I would like to take the rest of the little things with these. As long as it doesn't interfere with his work."

"Of course, I will contact my man," Kowalski promised.

The prince relented, but the art dealer did not feel at ease. Something told him that this situation would result in some trouble.

***

Something in the air had changed and Sławek wasn't sure what exactly. Electricity in it felt like it was before a storm, but neither the weather forecast nor the signs in the sky pointed at it. It was true that it was raining in the morning, but without any flashes or thunders. The air was steamy, but the atmosphere thickened and took on electricity the moment Konrad appeared.

Another night, Domejczuk hardly slept. The awareness that his friend was lying next to him made him strangely uneasy. The warmth emanating from his body, the breath caressing his skin or simply the closeness of another human being prevented sleep from coming even though he squeezed his eyes shut. But there were thoughts so strange and so alien to him that they could only arouse anxiety.

"I go to the store. Do you want me to buy you something?" Konrad offered.

Sławek started and looked up at Skalski. Konrad's face was very pretty, prettier even than when he watched her through the window, though a little sleepy.

"I could use bread, but this is I who should ..."

"Bread, sure," Skalski smiled. "Listen, Sławek ..."

"Yes?"

"Oh no, nothing. I will go. See you!"

Skalski left in a hurry as if he wanted to free himself from this place or from Sławek's company as soon as possible. Or both. For some reason it hurt Domejczuk. He didn't feel so lonely with Konrad. But why would Skalski want to spend time with him? He, a rich city boy, must be bored here.

Sławek knew perfectly well that there was nothing interesting to do here. No pubs, clubs or discos. The only social entertainment for the kids was walking in the evenings on the road just not to stay at home, or drinking beer in the bushes by the playground so that their parents wouldn't see. Most of them stayed at home anyway and played some popular internet games.

Had it not been for the sculpture taught by his grandfather, Sławek would have died of boredom himself and would have left here at the earliest opportunity. After all, he was a kid from town himself. Sculpture, however, and the grandfather himself, who was an extremely warm and wise man, made him love this place so quiet and peaceful that the chirping of birds in the morning was an unbearable noise.

Grandfather repeated many times that the true beauty of the land and the countryside is not seen with the eyes, but with the heart. Sławek now understood that. He thought so. That is why he did not want to lose the heritage of his ancestors so much - the place where his heart came from. Especially now, as soon as it was left after those he loved.