Desperate Measures(112)

 

“Okay, I am ready. Please come and sit. Just make yourself comfortable.”

 

He gestured to a raised sort of stage. It was small, just big enough for a person to sit or lie down on. There was a cushion on it, covered in a black drape.

 

“How do you want me to sit?” she asked walking over to it.

 

“However you want. Just be sure to face me, so I can see you. You may even lie down if you like. Maybe that would be better.”

 

She looked at him through narrowed eyes, trying to figure out if he was making some kind of move, but he was too busy mixing paint colors feverishly to even look at her. She shrugged, deciding that he was so wrapped up in what he was doing that he probably wouldn’t even notice her much. She felt as though she’d gone from being a living, breathing person, to an art object. She didn’t mind at all. It actually made her feel free and beautiful, in a weird way. She was flattered that a man so talented saw something in her that made him want to express himself.

 

She went over to the stage and sat down, testing the cushion a few times with her butt, bouncing up and down on it lightly. It was very soft, one of those memory-foam things that molded to the body. She suddenly felt very tired, remembering her workout and lack of sleep from doing the financials into the wee hours of the morning. “Were you serious? Can I lie down?”

 

He waved a paintbrush at her, looking only at the blank canvas in front of him. “As you like,” he said distractedly, turning it so it was no longer in portrait position, but landscape instead.

 

She sighed. So much for stimulating conversation. She laid down on the stage and reclined on her side, kicking her heels off and letting them drop to the floor. The warmth of the room and the tiny buzz from the champagne, mixed with the sounds of brush strokes and his occasional humming, quickly send her into la-la land. Her head dropped from her hand to rest on her outstretched arm, and the last thing she remembered thinking before falling asleep was how amazingly beautiful he looked standing there - consumed by his passion, in front of his canvas. Dressed in all black with his hair in disarray and framing his angular and strong-featured face, he looked like a sexy character out of a fantasy novel.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 31

 

 

 

 

 

AIMEE WALKED INTO THE TOWNHOUSE and called out, “Hello! Kiki? Are you home?”

 

“In the kitchen!”

 

Aimee found her eating another cookie. “Your butt’s gonna get big if you keep eating those cookies like that.”

 

“I’m stressing, okay? Cookies are good for stress.”

 

“They’re good for celebrating, too,” said Aimee, grabbing one herself and winking at Kiki. She couldn’t keep the smile off her face for even two seconds to worry about whatever was stressing her roommate out.

 

“Tell me your good news,” said Kiki. “That goofy smile can only mean good things.”

 

“Oh, it does. But it can wait until tomorrow, if you’re too tired.”

 

“Oh, hell no. You’re not going anywhere. It’s only one-thirty. Tell me about your date.”

 

Aimee related the story of her first date with Joe, leaving out the details of what occurred at his house, but giving Kiki the basic idea.

 

Kiki hugged her spontaneously. “Oh, I’m so happy for you! Didn’t I tell you? He’s a keeper. And you just got right back up on that horse and everything was fine.”

 

“Better than fine, actually.”

 

“We were right about the veiny hands, weren’t we?”

 

Aimee blushed. “I’ll never tell.”

 

“You don’t have to. Your freshly-fucked afterglow is giving you away.”

 

Aimee slapped Kiki on the arm. “Watch your mouth, girl.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I offend your puritanical sensibilities? How about this: your post-coital glow is giving you away … is that better?”

 

Aimee screwed up her face. “Not really. I think I prefer the other.”

 

“So, are you going on a second date?”

 

“Yep. He already asked me.”

 

“Wow, not even waiting the three-day period. This must be serious.”

 

“It is. I think it is. No, I know it is. Or I hope it is.” She started to feel stressed. “God, I hope it is. I’d just die if it wasn’t.”

 

“No, you wouldn’t die. You’d move on. That’s life. The key is to enjoy what you have while it’s good, and either fix it or get the hell out if it’s not.”

 

Aimee nodded in appreciation. “Wise words from a very smart girl. Now tell me about your night.”