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


1 Comment

  1. This is becoming my favorite series. 🙂

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