Flash Serial:The New Canvas ~ Part 8

This is a continuation of a serial piece of erotic fiction.  You may wish to start at the beginning, here.

The table was familiar and cool against Alex’s back.  She lay back, her skirt hitched up over her knees, a flutter of nerves making her breath come too quickly.  Victor readied his tools with his back to her.  He hadn’t said a word beyond “Hello”.

She worried she wouldn’t be able to lay still this time, her thoughts scattered and unsettled by his demeanor.  Alex’s eyes clung to the sliver of his profile, trying to read him.  His expression held smooth and betrayed nothing.

“Victor?” His name escaped before she could help it and she watched his jaw and shoulders tense in response. You say my name as if uttering a curse.  His words came back to her, as they had many times over the week.  Their middle of the night phone call still rattled her on recollection, remembering how she’d responded to his quiet voice, his tender concern.

He looked back at her and her heart jumped; his cool blue gaze stripped all thought from her mind.  “Yes, Alexandra?”

Her tongue snaked out to moisten her lips and his eyes followed it, a muscle in his jaw jumping.  “Are you angry with me?” It took effort to get the words out and they still emerged breathless.

Victor closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  “No,” he answered, turning back to his table without meeting her eyes again.  “I just need to concentrate.”

“I distract you?” Her stomach tumbled end over end; a tingle slithered down her spine.

His dark head shook from side to side; she swore she heard a low sound like a growl.  “Alexandra.”  Her breath stuttered when he turned, his expression tight and closed.  He sighed at whatever he saw reflected in hers and scrubbed his hands across his face.

Her stomach tightened with nerves.  “Close your eyes, Alex,” he said.  She met his clear blue gaze for a moment; Victor reached, brushing his fingers against her lashes.  In the darkness behind her eyelids her heart sounded louder.  “Slow your breathing,” he instructed, his voice dipping back into that timber she’d heard on the phone.  “Settle yourself.  I know you know how.”  He was close, near enough his breath brushed against her face.

“You’re upset with me,” she whispered and he sighed.



“Hush.  I need to work on your tattoo.  Can you be still for me?”  He was closer still; she could smell the crisp tang of his cologne.

“Yes,” she breathed.  He touched her shoulder and a shiver traveled down her spine.

“Good girl.”

It was strange listening to him instead of watching him.  He moved around in something close to silence, just the quiet click and ting of his tools.  She jumped when his warm hand finally touched her calf, turning it gently.

She was prepared and yet not for the first bite of the needle.  Alexandra wanted to be still for him, hoped if she did, he would smile at her after.  Her desire for him baffled her, but she wanted him.  Her mind fought her attempts to meditate, to quiet it and drift on the blurry edge of endorphins.  His hands delivered caress and agony in the same stroke, fingers sliding over her skin, needles punching ink into her dermis.

Her eyes watered, filling until tears threatened to escape.  Alex’s hands twisted in her skirt, bunching the fabric, every muscle above her waist pulled tight.

“Breathe, Alexandra.”  The attacking needles never paused but his words forced an exhale from her chest.  The first tear escaped and she sobbed.  She wanted to look at him; but didn’t dare.


continue reading in part 9 of The New Canvas


Flash Serial:The New Canvas ~ Part 7

This is a continuation of a serial piece of erotic fiction.  You may wish to start at the beginning, here.

Victor brooded.  A lukewarm glass of beer sat half empty before him, his fifth, and his meal cooled, untouched.

He couldn’t get Alexandra out of his mind and it was driving him to distraction.  Kept hearing her drowsy sexy voice in his head, kept imagining what might have happened if he hadn’t hung up on her.

“Want me to pack that up for ya, hon?”  He looked up at his waitress and watched her smile and straighten as she took in his features.  It was a response to which he was accustomed and one he normally ignored.

But tonight. . .

“Would you please, Sherry” he asked politely, flashing a smile at her as his eyes dipped to her nametag, lingering on the exposed cleavage.  She preened under his appreciative gaze and gathered his food.  Her hips swayed provocatively and she glanced over her shoulder more than once to be sure he was watching.

It wasn’t his style.  It also wasn’t his style to down a pitcher of beer by himself nor let a woman like Alexandra get to him.


Sherry rode his fingers, pinned between his chest and the door to her apartment.  His cock strained against his fly, his buzz filling his head with debauched images of the waitress bent and taking him there in the hall.  Somewhere on the way she’d asked his name and she gasped it as she hooked her leg over his hip.


He froze.  In the back of his mind he heard Alexandra’s voice, husky and soft, comparing the way she said his name to uttering a prayer.  The thought poured ice water on his alcohol enflamed arousal and he pulled his mouth from Sherry’s skin with a growl.

“What’s wrong, baby,” she cooed, tugging at the back of his neck, reaching to stop his withdrawing hand.

“I’m sorry.  I can’t do this.  I thought I could, but I can’t.”  She sputtered and stammered as he untangled her limbs, her color rising until they shone bright red even in the dim hallway.  “Really.  I’m sorry,” he ground out one last time, patting her hands and turning away.  He could see the rising emotion, feel it in the air.  “Please,” he said, low and gentle, “you’re beautiful, Sherry, and sexy.  But you deserved to be with someone who’s not trying to drive another woman out of his head.”

Sherry caught her breath and he watched as a bit of the tension eased from her shoulders.  He lifted his hand, touched her cheek and leaned in to press his lips to her brow.  “Good night.”

She didn’t respond, simply watched him walk away in silence.  His shoulders itched with the pressure of her gaze and he waited for her to hurl an invective after him.  Victor glanced back when he reached the stairs and she was gone.


It was a four mile walk around the lake to his house; the events in the hall sobering enough he didn’t try to drive.  Half way around he toyed with the idea of telling Alexandra he couldn’t finish the tattoo.  A mile from home he considered telling her she drove him insane.  By the time the spit of land his house occupied appeared ahead; lit by the soft glow of a half moon; he’d decided he would wait and see how the next session went.

Then he found his answering machine blinking.  One message waited for him.

“Victor…hi….this is Alexandra.  I.  I guess you’re not around.  umm.  I’m not sure why I called.  Just…hi.”  There was a long silence at the end before the line went dead and the artist stared at the machine.



Continue reading in part 8 of The New Canvas

Flash Serial: The New Canvas ~ Part 6

The writing below is part of a serial piece of erotic fiction.  You may wish to start at the beginning, here.

She sat in his driveway.  With her hands on her thighs Alexandra collected the parts of herself shattered and scattered by the evening’s session.  Her body hummed with endorphins, her skin shimmered with residual sensation.  It took everything she had to resist the temptation to climb out of the car and go back.
The drive home passed in a blur.  One moment she lingered with her hands gripping the steering wheel the next she struggled to fit the key in her door’s deadbolt.  Her phone was ringing when she stumbled through the door.  “Hello?”
“Alexandra.”  Victor’s voice cut through the fog, a beam of clarity for her to focus on.
“I’m here.”  She didn’t recognize her own speech, the words breathless and faint.  She swayed on her feet.
“Lock your door, Alex, and go to bed.”  He spoke with a firm gentleness that reminded her of his hands on her skin.
“I’m not sure how I got home.”  Alexandra drifted down the hall, her fingers dragging against the chairrail.
“It’s okay.  You’re safe.  Bed, Alex.”
She pushed through her bedroom door and blinked at the dim glow of her dressing table lamp.  A shiver traced her spine.  With the phone cradled against her ear she dropped her skirt to the floor.  She tugged her top loose, letting it flutter away.
“Alexandra?”  His voice pulled her awareness back from where it had floated and she stared into the mirror.  Her nipples were taut, her skin flushed.  Victor’s evening of work saw the tail around her ankle and up her calf filled in with jade and emerald hues that faded away.  It was as if she’d stepped in ink and the dragon wicked up color.
“Oh Victor,” she said, her voice a bare whisper.
“Look tomorrow, Alexandra,” he said, “get into bed.  Your endorphins will wear off soon.”
She blinked and obeyed without thinking, pulling back sheet and blanket.  A sigh slipped from her lips when she lay back on the cool cotton.
“Turn off the light.”  His voice was softer and sent a pulse of heat through her veins.  Did the thought of her in bed affect him?
“Did I lay still?” she asked.  It was an important question, all of a sudden.
“You did well, Alexandra.”
“I love the way you say my name, Victor.”  The words were out before she could rein them in.  Her eyes flashed open and she held her breath.
“You say mine as if uttering a curse.”
“Or a prayer.”
“Do you truly feel nothing?” she asked, closing her eyes again.  He sighed and she heard him shift.
“You’re my canvas.”
“And you need to go to sleep.  I shall see you Friday, Alexandra.”
“Victor…,” she didn’t want him to hang up now that she’d found a chink in his composure.
“Good night.”
The phone went dead and she stared at it.


Continue reading in part 7 of The New Canvas

Flash Serial: The New Canvas ~ Part 5

The writing below is part of a serial piece of erotic fiction.  You may wish to start at the beginning, here.

Victor watched with a slight bit of awe as Alexandra laid her head back and waited for the first bite of the needles.  He breathed in, separating her scent from the air with dismaying ease.  It was going to be a long night.
With careful fingers he rearranged her skirt to prevent staining and reached for the sausau.  He knew, intimately, what the tight cluster of needles felt like.  Where the lining array sliced along the skin like a slow, dull knife, the round array of needles felt like wasps punching the flesh over and over.
Her skin was smooth and warm under his fingers.  She smelled of vanilla, musk and clean cotton.  His cock twitched once and, to his relief, lay still.  He pulled her tender flesh taut, laid the sausau in place then took the first strike.  Her fingers twitched in his peripheral vision but she lay steady and quiet under his hand.  Steadily he increased his pace, watching both her and his hand, until he was certain she was coping.
The artist hadn’t expected her to be such a perfect canvas.  Her skin took the color as if he were touching a brush to rice paper.  He worked his way from the tip of the dragon’s tail up, thrusting emerald tones and careful grey shading into scale after scale.  An hour passed, then two.
Alexandra didn’t make a sound, even as a sheen of sweat began to coat his torso.  Victor glanced up from time to time to check her expression.  Two hours in, her hands lay relaxed across her stomach.  Her body was limp and he’d been moving her as needed.  She was conscious, or at least, mostly so.  A steady stream of tears leaked from the corner of her eyes, but she inhaled and exhaled deeply.
He couldn’t help the admiration and wondered if he’d judged her too harshly.
Victor forced the thoughts from his mind and returned his attention to his work.  His hands screamed in agony, his back was a mass of knots.  He’d progressed up her calf to just below the knee.
“Victor?”  Her voice tore through him like a riptide.  His gaze jerked to her face and he swallowed a curse as he found her eyes still closed.
“Can we break for a few?”  She turned her head and met his eyes blearily.
“Sure.”  Stretching, he moved away before she could sit up.  Maybe he could regain his composure.

The last two hours passed in a torturous blur.  Victor waited for her to ask again for a break but she made not one sound. Alexandra simply lay quiet and still, moving only when his hands urged her.  Never had he tautau‘d someone who handled it with such composure.  At last he set his sausau aside and spritzed her skin with diluted alcohol.  Her breath caught at the contact.
With careful hands he smoothed vaseline over the vibrant hues then bandaged her calf.
“Alexandra,” he said, concern gentling his voice.  He touched a finger to the last tear clinging to her lashes.  Her eyelids twitched then opened, revealing a gaze as green as her emerging dragon.
“Are we done?” Her voice was ragged and tired.  Victor nodded.
“For tonight, yes.”  She sat up and reached for him as she swayed.  Her hand flattened against his chest and his breath caught.  “Easy, Alexandra.”
Her eyes widened and she stared up and him for an eternal moment.  Victor’s jaw flexed and he covered the hand on his chest with his own.  She dropped her eyes to it, seeming to look at her hand under his larger one with incomprehension.
Until she snatched it away as if burned.  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Victor watched as she slipped from the table and hurriedly shook out her skirt.
“Next week?” she asked, glancing towards him, her gaze skittering away from his.
“Yes,” he answered, “same time.”  Victor stood, perplexed as she hurried out the door.
While he didn’t understand her actions there was one thing he did know.  Next week was going to be interesting.

Continue reading The New Canvas in part 6