September 4th

Hello Doctor Bedford,

Yes, we are on, and I’m beginning to enjoy this already. Well, to the matter in hand. As I have said, I live in a place called Dorking, with my husband. We met when we were nineteen and have been married for six years. My husband, Douglas has a very high- powered job in ship insurance, which takes him out of England on various work functions, so naturally he is often tired when he is home because he works so hard.  I am very in love with my husband Doctor Bedford and very grateful for all the hard work he does to keep us in a lovely big house, which is by far the nicest on the street. However, about three months ago I went with Sara to the opening of one of her friend’s art gallery where I met a young art artist who I will call T for now to protect him in the unlikely event of any future case study public debate. I felt an attraction to T, or perhaps felt he was attracted me, so when he asked me what I did for a living I said I was an artist too and didn’t tell him that I have a husband.  I don’t usually lie, but for some reason felt ashamed that I didn’t really do anything in the day apart from tidy the house or even do that much in the evening since Douglas is away so much of the time these days. 

Anyway, I got an email from T about a week ago asking me over for a weekend to his house in Dundee, where he lives. He said he wants to paint me so that he can use the picture for an exhibition of his work in Scotland. He says he can do it from a photo but would prefer to have me sit for him in a classical Goddess type of pose. My heart races at the thought of it! I would love to be painted and hung up in an exhibition gallery, but I think if I go there T may want something sexual to happen or I might. I don’t know what to do; I have never cheated on Douglas and never would. I’m not saying I’ve never found another man attractive, or imagined what it might be like to set the table for George Cloony, or hang up Brad Pit’s pants –but that’s as far as it has ever gone. As far as I know that’s not a crime even by my mother's catholic standards.

 So you see, I face a dramatic dilemma! What should I do, stay in Dorking in a lovely but empty house kept up by my husband or, unleash the shackles of my provincial life and fly off to Dundee to be painted by some artist I hardly know?

Tell me what I should do?

Charlotte Lott.