Venus Coleman walked through the East Wing gallery. Filled with pride, there was also an odd sense of regret within her while she perused the collection as if she were just another museum visitor.

It was the regret that came with endings.

She'd put together the People Through Textiles exhibit as she had done with so many others. She had picked the theme, chosen the artifacts, and designed the layout. Now nearly a year after she'd begun work on it and almost four months after it had opened, the temporary installation was coming to its end. Soon, only the unsold catalogs in the gift shop and the archived reviews in the major papers would remain as evidence that it ever existed at all.

But every end also signaled a new beginning. And while Venus loved to reminisce, her work never stopped. The iPad in her hand with a freshly drafted floor plan was evidence of that.

The space had to be completely rearranged for her next project. The room she was standing in now—with its dozen glass cases safely holding magnificent ceremonial robes from across four continents and representing a thousand years' worth of history in their threads—would have to be partitioned off into three or maybe even four smaller spaces.

Instead of conveying cohesion and precedent, the upcoming installation would need to radiate intimacy and also a little discomfort. Because the topic she'd fought so passionately to bring to the patrons of the nation's top ethnographic museum was nothing if not unsettling.

Well, for most people, anyway. By its mere definition, the exhibit would highlight the unconventional. And this got Venus very, very excited.

"Dr. Coleman?" The interruption came from behind her and Venus turned. It was one of the girls from accounting.

"Yes?"

"Hi. Sorry to interrupt. I work in central admin downstairs, and I looked for you in your office, but you weren't there and—"

"I know who you are. Taylor, right? How can I help you?" Venus cut off the rambling. Although she didn't like to use her 'polite but firm' tone—which, as a Black woman, often got her categorized as hostile rather than professional—she'd learned that sometimes you just had to get to the point.

"Right. Sorry again," Taylor said, a flush coming to her cheeks. "There was just this purchase order that came across my desk and I wanted to double check with you that it was legitimate before pushing it through with my approval."

"A purchase order?" asked Venus, puzzled by the inquiry. While financial paperwork wasn't her favorite part of the job, never had anything she'd put through been questioned before. "Was there a problem?"

Taylor glanced down at her shoes, a pair of sensible loafers in patent black leather. If possible, the young woman's face got even redder. "Well, no. I mean, there was nothing wrong technically. It's just that the contents are something that usually get flagged," she said.

"Flagged? By whom?"

If there was a hole around to crawl into, Taylor would probably have chosen that option. "Uhm . . . the FBI?"

Venus laughed. She definitely should have seen this coming. "Now I'm the one who should apologize, but your earnestness in following protocol is endearing," she said, touching Taylor's shoulder with reassurance. "Come with me."

Hoping to clear the tension before providing a full explanation, Venus led the accountant to a piece of framed cloth on a nearby wall.

"What do you see?" she asked, nodding toward the item.

Taylor cleared her throat as she furrowed her brows, intently studying the piece.

"It appears to be made of an organic material, most likely wool. The designs are geometric and follow a pattern, but certain elements seem to represent snakes or even human figures. If I had to guess, I'd say this was Native American," she said before turning to Venus. "Am I close?"

The curator nodded. "Yes, that is a more or less accurate observation. And you have told me exactly what you think you can see by looking at this artifact. But . . .."

"But?" Taylor prompted as she trailed off.

Venus pointed to the textile. "Your focus was on the piece itself, but you completely ignored the story it had to tell you," she said, drawing her finger over the part of the glass that protected the faintest section of the item. "For example, here, you can see how worn the cloth is, indicating its loving use and significance to its owner. The decorations woven into its threads also place it not only into its geographic context, but also tell us that the people who made this shared their surroundings with animals, which they found important enough to immortalize. That in itself isn't definitive, but it does lead us to ask whether those animals played a part in their mythologies and even religious systems."

Taylor bit her lip and nodded. "I think I get what you're saying. The . . . unusual items in that order shouldn't be taken at face value. And I expect they'll play a bigger role in whatever you're working on next?" she asked, still with a little hesitancy.

Although Venus had a lot of other things to do, she was willing to meet Taylor half-way. After all, she considered herself to be an educator, even if the museum was her classroom and tourists were usually her students.

"I suppose your auditors need a little bit more context," she admitted, unlocking her iPad again and scrolling to the exhibit designs. After double-checking the accuracy of her memory, she pointed to the far corner of the room. "There we'll have a display of Nineteenth Century French illustrations from Martin van Maële who'd drawn both for H.G. Wells and translations of the Sherlock Holmes series, but was best known for his somewhat satirical and highly erotic cartoons."

Moving her hand, she continued. "There will also be a multimedia section covering the Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure also known as the Fanny Hill stories by English writer John Cleland. Written almost three centuries ago, it's considered one of the first examples of pornography in prose and has been one the most banned books in history."

Taylor appeared interested, so Venus went on. "Of course we won't make the mistake of having just a Western view on the subject. There'll be a display featuring eroticism in Hinduism including the Kama Sutra and stone reliefs from ancient Indian temples, along with an exhibit of Japanese woodblock prints from the grandfather of tentacle porn Katsushika Hokusai. Oh, though you may be more familiar with his 'Great Wave Off Kanagawa' art that's hanging in practically every hotel from here to Kyoto. "

"Now, all of this might just sound like a very pretentious way to present smut to the masses," Venus said, recalling the same argument she used to defend this topic when she'd first raised it with museum leadership. "But the ways in which sex has been used as both as a medium for expression, as well as a tool to fight oppression throughout history is quite fascinating."

"Look at the story beyond the item," Taylor said, recalling their conversation about the framed textile.

Venus nodded approvingly. "Exactly. But to make sure our audience also makes that connection, we'll bring in a well-known scholar to neatly tie everything together so that it's not just visitors hopping from rooms of naughty cartoons to display cases full of dildos."

Taylor laughed. "Right. So is there anything else I need to know about or is this the worst of it?"

"Everything else may seem tame in comparison," said Venus, flipping through her iPad to find her main planning document. "Although I don't think the contract for our central exhibitor has come through yet and knowing Benjamin Duc Tran, that could have some unusual requests."

Venus had expected some kind of reaction at the mention of the name, but Taylor's expression remained blank.

"Don't tell me you haven't heard of Benjamin Duc Tran," Venus said with unhidden surprise.

Taylor shrugged. "Should I have?"

"I would hope so! He's the Robert Mapplethorpe of your generation."

Still, Taylor pulled her lips into a thin line and shook her head.

"Oh, you dear child," Venus said with a sigh. "Ben's a brilliant contemporary photographer who creates thoughtful narratives through his models. Look him up. You'll love him."

Taylor nodded. "I will. But I'm still really surprised that this is the first I'm hearing of this. Usually we get a heads-up about upcoming exhibits in the prior year budget discussions. But it sounds like you've got everything practically ready to go," she said.

"Not quite everything," Venus said, thinking of the few loose ends she still needed to tie up. "But you're right, this wasn't part of our original portfolio for the season. There just happened to be a last-minute funding opportunity and the stars aligned for us to win that grant."

"A private donor, I would imagine," Taylor said.

Venus shook her head with a knowing smirk. "Nope."

"Foundation?"

"Federal, if you can believe it!" Venus replied, still not believing her luck in securing the money needed to put on such a controversial exhibit when her phone rang. "Excuse me, I have to take this."

She had already turned away when Taylor asked, "Oh, and what will this exhibit be called?"

"Did I not even mention the title?" Venus said above the sound of another ring. "I'm quite proud of it actually. We're calling it 'KINK - Attitudes Toward Sex: Then and Now.'"

Calling him the next Mapplethorpe was the worst fucking thing they could have done for his career and Ben was livid.

Sure, they were both openly bisexual men who had made their names in the art world by photographing what others would consider risqué subjects and the comparison was certainly complimentary. But Ben lived in such a different time than what his groundbreaking predecessor had experienced half a century earlier that he didn't quite feel that the accolade had been earned.

And although he pushed the envelope further and further in every project he undertook, he could never be considered a pioneer in his field. Even suggesting anything of the sort just raised expectations–from critics to patrons, and even for casual art aficionados–and frankly, it just stressed Ben the fuck out.

He clicked out of the online article announcing his participation in the KINK exhibit and tossed his cell phone on the counter. It landed without a sound, the inevitable clank drowned out by the "turn it up to eleven" techno beats echoing through his studio loft.

"Can you shut that damn noise off?" he yelled to his assistant who was setting up a light diffuser panel on the other side of the open, industrial space. Rubbing his temple, he added, "I can't even hear myself think."

Lindy scrambled for the remote to lower the volume, getting it down just in time to hear the doorbell.

Ben didn't have to move from his seat on the barstool to see who was outside his apartment. The closed-circuit TV screen next to the toaster transmitted a live feed from the camera installed in the hallway, giving an overhead shot of anyone and everyone who showed up on his doorstep. The price of his skyrocketing fame had been steep, and it was a security feature he had put in on the insistence of his home insurance agent after getting way too many uninvited visitors.

But these guests were expected even if not quite in their current state.

"You know that you could have just changed into your costumes here," said Ben as he opened the door to the two people dressed as anthropomorphic animals.

The guy on the left wearing a furry gray wolf suit that was stylized more like a cartoon than a realistic representation raised up a paw holding out a business card.

Benjamin Duc Tran

Ben read his own name followed by his contact info. "Yup, you're in the right place," he said, realizing that he might have gotten himself into more than what he'd bargained for. "Come on in."

The girl–he assumed it was a girl dressed as the pink cat–gave him a furry thumbs up and entered first, followed by the wolf.

"Lindy over there will fill you in on the details and then we can get started," Ben said, pointing the two toward his assistant who was still arranging the cabling for his equipment while he grabbed his favorite camera.

Today's shoot was something new and while he had a general premise planned, he was ready for any deviation. Those spontaneous, spur-of-the-moment ideas usually gave the best images anyway, but that wasn't the only reason he wanted to remain flexible today.

In all honesty, he didn't know much about the furry fandom and from what he originally read, the subculture had very little to do with sexual attraction. Given that much of Ben's professional brand revolved around edgy depictions of sexuality, he was taking a risk that could backfire. If the furry community didn't understand that this series of photographs was an homage to the 1980s erotic comic strip "Omaha" the Cat Dancer about the adventures of a feline stripper, then he could be seen as misrepresenting or even worse, maligning, a much-loved fandom.

Ben could already feel his anxiety spiking as he watched Lindy patiently explain the storyline to his models and he popped an Adderall for good measure just as his phone pinged.

The interruption was a good reminder to set the cell to "do not disturb" mode, but as Ben picked it up, he saw that it was a private message through his Grinder app that had triggered the notification. He knew it should wait, but his thumb had already hovered over the icon.

Ready2Mingle (832 feet away): hey gorgeous. I'm a top looking for fun and I'd love to add a load in you.

Ben rolled his eyes and sighed. What was wrong with some men?

MaskedBendit: Gross. Not the way I roll. Sry.

He was about to put the phone down when another message popped up.

Ready2Mingle: Apologies. This is my first time doing this.

That caught his attention. If the claim was genuine, then he might have just found his first gay hookup app virgin. If it was a lie, then it was a pretty damn good line.

Before responding, Ben clicked on the user's profile. Taken in a high-end residence's bathroom, the mirror selfie blocked out the man's face with his phone, but he had an okay body rocking that polo shirt and khakis.

He was intrigued.

MaskedBendit: Okay. You got me. What did you have in mind?

Now that he was engaged, the wait for a response was agonizing. Meanwhile, he watched the furries continue to get directions from Lindy until the phone pinged again.

Ready2Mingle: Capitol Hill Hotel Monday 7pm. I'll text you the room # then. Strictly anonymous.

Ben was ready to immediately type "OK," but getting an idea, he hesitated. This could actually work in multiple ways. Could he get away with it? What if it went wrong?

But his struggle of conscience lost to his desire for professional recognition, so Ben ended up responding another way.

MaskedBendit: time and place good, but if ur worried @ being found out let me get the room. No papertrail and all.

Ready2Mingle: I like the way you think. See you then.

After being ushered out of a meeting by a gaggle of staffers, a tall man with silver hair slipped his phone into his suit pocket and stepped to a portable lectern. The assembled reporters thrust their microphones toward him and clamored for his attention.

"Congressman Wight. Congressman Wight! Do you have a comment on the breaking news that federal funds have been appropriated to an upcoming exhibit in DC featuring pornographic content?" asked a young journalist as various television cameras and cell phones began to record.

"Just like I told representatives of the Traditionalist Council who I just had the pleasure of hosting, I want to assure my constituents in the great commonwealth of Virginia and every other Republican voter in our country that never have I ever voted for a bill that undermines Christian family values and basic human decency." Wight's voice boomed across the marble lined hallway just off the Capitol rotunda.

"Your party is in the majority so how could something like this happen?" Another question was thrown out from among the media as flashes strobed.

The Congressman made a fist, thumb up and shook it in emphasis as he spoke. "It is true that my party and I supported the President's latest budget reconciliation measure, which funds—among many other programs—the National Endowment for the Humanities. But the fact that a federal entity would make such a grave error in approving the use of taxpayer money in this manner is not only disgraceful, but also—in my opinion—illegal."

"Do you have a plan for next steps?" A woman's voice rang out from the others.

"Well, I'm glad you asked," Wight said, a smile creeping over his previous stoic expression as he turned toward her. "People who break the law must be held accountable. It is for this reason that I will be submitting a request to the ranking member of the House Appropriations Committee for a full, Congressional hearing not only on the planned use of these federal dollars, but also on the content we allow our public museums to display. I hope to God that this has all been a misunderstanding, but believe me when I say that I will do everything in my power to make sure that our children remain safe from filth and depravity. Thank you and God bless."

ONC rolling word count: 5,113