The writing below is part of a serial piece of erotic fiction. You may wish to start at the beginning, here.
The New Canvas:Chapter 2
She sat in her car, staring over the steering wheel. Am I really going to do this?
The sun was setting in an explosion of colors over the lake. The address he’d given led her to the exclusive gated community and then to this isolated home on the isthmus. Alexandra couldn’t fathom how much the place had cost, though it wasn’t one of the newly built monstrosities that peppered the shoreline.
She looked at her watch for the fifth time. 7:53. If she was going to do it. . .
Swinging her legs from the car she tucked her purse under her arm and took a deep breath. She wanted to do it. It had taken a year of coaxing, begging and bribing to get his name. “Victor Svitov.” Alexandra whispered to herself. She could still feel his piercing blue eyes examining her and butterflies danced in her stomach.
Her footsteps crunched on the gravel path and seemed to boom on the steps. She felt loud and out of place on the porch with its cool serene colors and relaxing secluded surroundings. Rapping her knuckles on the door sharply she waited with growing impatience.
Finally, the door swung open. “Ah, you’re here.” His voice was just as rich and warm as she remembered, like a perfect, strong cup of coffee. “Come on in.”
It occurred to Alexandra as she followed him through his house that she was taking a huge risk. No one knew where she was. The nerves in her stomach intensified. “The studio overlooks the lake. From now on when you come out for a session, just come on in. I don’t lock the door.”
She smiled thinly at him and he opened a door, motioning her through. Alex gasped. His studio jutted out from the house. It was, for all intents and purposes, a sun room, with glass walls on three sides. Hinged rice paper screens waited on either side of the doorway against the only solid wall in the studio. As she stared he began to pull them along tracks recessed into the floor and ceiling, blocking the lower two-thirds of the room from few. The sunset filtered through the screens, lighting up the art worked upon them.
The space was breathtaking and soothing and her nervousness faded. She walked along the screens, taking in the variety of images. “These are gorgeous,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. He stood with his arms crossed, watching expectantly. “Oh,” she said, blushing, “sorry.” He motioned her to towards a waiting bench that reminded her of her masseuse’s.
“Please strip from the waist down.”
Alexandra would have blushed still further had his manner not been so business like. He turned to his table of waiting implements and Alex swallowed against her nervousness. You can do this, Alex, she berated herself and quickly loosened the wraparound ties of her skirt. The fabric puddled to the floor and she stepped out of it and her wedges. The floor, highly polished bamboo, was cool against the soles of her feet.
“Panties too, please. Next time do not even wear them. You won’t be putting them back on after. They can damage the fresh tattoo.” Alexandra jerked her head up to glare at him and found only the broad expanse of his shoulders. “There’s nothing prurient about her request, I assure you.” He turned to look at her. “You are a canvas. Nothing more.”
And she believed him. His gaze swept her length and his expression remained cool and dettached. “If you know who I am, then you know I take no sexual interest in her patrons.” His icey eyes met mine once more and her stomach clenched. Alex nodded. “Good. Now, lie on the table please.”
She pulled her bikini cut panties down and bent to pick them and her skirt up, placing them on a nearby chair. He unfolded a sheet and shook it out over the cushioned table surface. The chill of the vinyl still shocked her through it as she sat.
Victor picked up one of the screens from the far wall, one she hadn’t realized wasn’t attached. He set it close to her head and Alexandra looked up, gasping as she took in the image upon it. A woman’s form outlined in faint, sketchy lines stood before her. Her form. But what took her breath away was the beginnings of the tattoo she realized he meant to put upon her flesh. She shivered and somehow managed not to jump when he laid his hand on her back.
“Are you ready?” Without waiting for an answer his hands guided her onto her back and pushed her shirt up under her breasts. A point pressed against her flesh and she realized he was drawing the tattoo on her. “Tonight will be our longest session. We will not stop until I have lined in the whole tattoo. If you need a break, tell me. Otherwise, I will not stop. It will hurt. I suggest you let the endorphins take you into a meditative state. . .”
His voice continued on and she stopped listening as his lining pen swooped in lines across her belly. His arm lay over her mound, onto her thigh, hand pressing and pulling her skin. Alex looked down to find his dark haired head bent close to her and felt his breath fan against her flesh. Her body broke out in a hot wave of goosebumps. Nothing prurient. I can’t say that I’m going to be able to lie here and not think of you, Victor Svitov, in prurient ways. The dimple of his pen dipped towards her mound and she held her breath.
Can he smell me, I wondered, does he know I’m reacting to his hands on my skin? She shivered without realizing it and his movements paused. “Sorry,” Alex whispered, and he grunted once before returning to his work. Her mind drifted and she let it.
It was going to be a long night.
Continue reading in part 3 of The New Canvas.