Character in Development

Greetings to all who follow this blog.  

I apologize for my absence these past few months.  Life is busier than ever, preventing me from posting anything for a while.  But, I assure you that I am always working on something relevant to this muse that forever fuels my imagination.  Most recently I have been firming up the image of my latest character; Maxy Coates.  I spent a bit of time developing a proper title page for her prologue https://lctdadrms.blogspot.com/p/the-cameo-of-aveline.html to replace the initial photoshop sketch I posted there.  

This is closer to my vision of what Maxy Coates looks like.

I also commissioned artist Carlos Rodriguez to produce an illustration of Maxy.  His original work can be seen at https://www.deviantart.com/crcarlosrodriguez/art/Maxy-Coates-791020878  I altered the image slightly to fit my concept of her as seen below. 

She is the leading lady in "The Star of Ascania"
https://lctdadrms.blogspot.com/p/the-star-of-ascania-by-cuirbouilli-what.html and I do intend to write much more about her. Unfortunately, her story will unfold slowly over months and years as my free time is very limited, but my intention to create and share this embodiment of the lady in the leather coat shall abide, and hopefully be realized to a full extent someday.

For now I share this brief excerpt of just one short story idea I have featuring Maxy that corresponds to the illustration above. A handsome French curator from the Louvre is waiting to introduce an American woman to Ms. Coates:

“Ah!  There she is now!” Jacques announced suddenly, smoke smoldering from his nostrils.

He inhaled again deeply, anxiously finishing off his cigarette and mashed the butt on the ground beneath his foot.  

Nancy gazed obliviously in the same direction he was staring across the street.  She had no idea what the woman they were waiting for looked like, although she pictured the name Maxine Coates belonging to a dowdy sixty-five year old woman with glasses and stringy gray hair who volunteered as a docent at art museums.  She searched for a woman of this description among the pedestrians on the opposite sidewalk and quickly picked out a middle-aged woman who was conspicuously a tourist in a floral print windbreaker, blue jeans, and gym shoes; sporting a red beret atop her gray perm.   

“The lady in the beret?” Nancy asked.  

“No, no,” Jacques chortled, shaking his head and grinning at the suggestion.

“The beautiful brunette in the hat and leather coat.”

His description did not seem terribly helpful to Nancy as she looked beyond the lady in the beret.  After all, there was hardly anything but beautiful women in Paris.  Countless would-be models flocked to the city hoping to get noticed by a designer label.  Willowy, fresh-faced girls dressed in the latest trends strutted their stuff along every street corner.  Even the local French women going about their daily business struck Nancy as generally being more attractive and better dressed than American women.  Picking out the “beautiful” one was not necessarily going to be obvious.  

Furthermore, leather fashion was at the height of its popularity.  Many people around them were clad in black leather of some sort, including Jacques himself.  Men wore bomber jackets and car coats.  Women were wrapped in an endless variety of leather blazers, jackets, and trench coats, accessorized with leather pants and leather skirts.  She had seen at least half a dozen ladies in full length leather coats pass by just that evening alone.  

Then Nancy spotted her.  And there was no further question who Jacques was talking about.  

Indeed, Maxine Coates would truly be difficult to miss in any crowd.  She was a striking woman of statuesque build and glamorous silhouette in a big black hat and long black leather coat.  She paused at the edge of the sidewalk as a motorcycle buzzed by before stepping off the curb to cross the street.  

Nancy meticulously scrutinized every visible detail about her.  One thing was certain: she could not have been more wrong about Maxine Coates’ appearance.  There was nothing remotely aged or frumpy about the stunning lady walking toward them.

Her posh hat was made of wool felt with a black leather band and an elegantly curved brim that flared the width of her shoulders.  Her oval face was framed by voluminous waves of chocolate brown hair that cascaded to the middle of her back.  Her porcelain complexion was radiant and her features exquisite with finely arched brows, dark sultry eyes, and full red lips.  She regarded her surroundings with an aspect of serene sophistication.   

Her sleek black leather coat was semi-fitted with princess seams and flowed to her ankles, flattering her slender figure as perfectly as a ballgown.  It had a notched collar that was popped confidently about her graceful neck with a crisp white shirt spilling from the lapels at her throat.  Five polished horn buttons sealed the coat along a single-breasted placket from her perky bustline to her glossy leather-gloved fingertips.  A belt was knotted at her narrow waist between the second and third buttons, gathering supple ripples around her hourglass torso.  A sweeping hem of liquid-smooth leather billowed open in front to reveal her long legs encased in tall, shiny black leather boots.

She sashayed with a long, self-assured stride; hair bouncing, back straight, and curvaceous hips swaying with natural feminine allure.  The leather soles of her high heeled boots clicked nimbly on cobblestones that were still slick with a wet blue sheen from the afternoon rain.  Her right arm swung with carefree poise, carrying a folded red cane umbrella like a baton.  Her left hand caught the strap of a black leather satchel purse on her shoulder with a carnelian gemstone ring glimmering on the outside of her glove.  

In a city teeming with lissome beauties Ms. Coates was easily the most gorgeous woman Nancy had seen yet.  At a glance she might have easily been mistaken for Eugenia Silva doing a photoshoot for Vogue.  Her svelte, leather-enclosed form gleamed from head-to-toe with a resplendent golden luster in the rays of the setting sun.  “Venus” by Bananarama played on a stereo speaker nearby as if on cue, for indeed she was a “goddess on the mountain top”.  

A glass shattered on the sidewalk as a waiter at the brasserie absently tipped his tray while gaping at her. 

Jacques stepped forward.

“Bonsoir chéri,” he crooned, spreading his arms.

Ms. Coates’ expression brightened as she met his burning gaze with glittering eyes and her red lips parted in a dazzling smile that would make any red-blooded man weak in the knees.

“Bonsoir Jacques!” she replied vivaciously.  

She bounded up to him and they embraced, exchanging an affectionate kiss on each cheek.