Chapter 10 #2
“Then enjoy it. Enjoy your little hands, small feet, your cute dick.” I exhale and lap across his lips. “Is your hole tight too?”
He watches me as if hypnotized. “Probably.”
“I see only positives then. I love how big my dick looks in your tiny hand.”
A warm, gooey sensation settles in my chest when he smiles, so I act on instinct and lean closer, until my forehead touches his. “I first got into art, because the museum was the only place where I could see naked men. Isn’t that ironic?”
He doesn’t even ask when he takes a sip from my glass of wine. “It is pretty funny. But please say you didn’t get horny at the museum?”
“Thirteen-year-old me? All the time. I was either sketching or rushing to the restrooms. Wish I still had that much stamina.” I poke his upturned nose and look into the purplish light on the clouds above.
“Did you then go to art school? There’s not much information about you out there.”
It feels like hundreds of years have passed since I signed my very own pact with the devil, permanently altering the course of my life, but I still remember the most important details.
“I wanted to, but it wasn’t something my family could afford.
I was drawing whenever I could but I focused on judo, because my coach thought I could try doing it professionally.
And later on, when I had enough money, work wouldn’t allow me to go to school regularly.
I had tutors though, and one of them eventually recommended me to an art dealer.
The public first encountered my paintings when I exhibited a series of works inspired by Greek myths and the statues I was so very fond of.
I had high artistic ambitions and didn’t see how pretentious those pictures were.
” I chuckle. “I’d like to think I’ve matured since.
Nowadays, I like to explore the human form.
I had a dark phase inspired by my victims and how fragile their bodies are, but it didn’t bring me joy. Beauty does.”
I’m surprised myself that I’m awaiting Victor’s verdict. He’s barely over twenty, not that experienced, and a little unhinged. His opinion shouldn’t matter, yet here I am. Waiting in hope that this time, he will not say my art is devoid of soul.
“You’ve definitely developed a style of your own. It’s visible even in the gouache studies you did of me so far. It’s so interesting to see after all the self-portraits you’ve painted that you can transfer that skill to another subject. The new works are… honest.”
If I had a peacock tail, I’d be unfolding it right now. “I feel alive when I paint you.”
I know it sounds corny, but I can’t help feeling like he’s rejuvenated everything about my art.
Victor puts down his fork and climbs into my lap, wrapping his arms around my neck.
His fragrant hair falls around our faces, creating a curtain that hides us from the world when he kisses my lips.
“I feel alive whenever I’m around you. Like I’m finally a real person, not a ghost everyone passes without noticing. ”
My heart feels tight, but I keep smiling as I hug him to my chest, stroking the gooseflesh scattered over his skin. “If you’re a ghost, please haunt me forever.”
“Maybe you killed me that first night, and that’s what’s actually happening.”
“No. Dead men aren’t this warm,” I tell him and slide my fingers between his thighs .
It’s such a sunny afternoon, yet the breeze keeps us from overheating. Just us, the occasional squawking of seagulls, and the rumble of the waves.
Victor deepens the kiss, just like he did when he straddled me on the couch last night.
We were watching a documentary, and he fell asleep against me, tucked under a blanket.
Seeing him like that pulled on heart strings I didn’t even know I had.
I’ve never had a boyfriend, someone who would live with me.
There have been a few people over the years who I fucked more than once, but that was that.
I needed to be secretive, I travelled a lot, and no one really kept my attention for long enough.
Until a tiny redhead with crazy eyes broke into my home with the intention of humiliating me.
If I didn’t still have the awareness that Victor is a prisoner in my home, I would have stayed with him on that sofa, peacefully fallen asleep while holding him close.
Instead, I did wake him up when I had to go to bed, and that was when he straddled me for a make out session as if I wasn’t about to take him back to his cell.
I wonder if the lines are as blurry for him as they are for me, and what that will mean in the long term. But do I really need to worry about this on a day as perfect as this one?
I stiffen when the sound of a horn echoes off the cliff.
I don’t know if I’m the one trembling, or the balcony is shaking, but I urge Victor off my lap and get to my feet, my limbs stiff as I near the glass railing.
This is the spot in my home when I’m most vulnerable, even though I made sure it’s impossible to see the balcony from anywhere on land, beyond the house itself, but if this time an assassin comes for me by sea?
I might die the moment the bastard spots me from below.
I flinch when a male voice echoes all around me .
“Anybody there? I’m looking for a specific rock formation!”
I glance at Victor, who’s still in his chair and stares at me with huge green eyes.
We slam into reality like it’s an iceberg about to shatter and sink what we’ve created together.
“Don’t show yourself. Don’t say a word,” I snarl at him much more sharply than I would have wished, but what’s done is done.
If the guy down in the boat really is a lost sailor, not just pretending to be one so I look out and he can shoot me in the forehead, this is Victor’s chance to yell for help.
Then, I’d have to run and grab my sniper rifle to get rid of the guy.
If I didn’t manage, I would have had to go all the way down the secret shaft in the cliff to reach my personal submersible.
And even then I’d have a small chance of not succeeding.
In the house, I’m safe, I know where everything is, I have traps, weapons, and places to hide. Leaving is out of the question if I can avoid it.
Victor sits there with hands folded in his lap, brows drawn, but is he about to yell for help?
We’ll find out.
I approach the banister.