| Author: | Amicus | ISBN: | 9781310173448 |
| Publisher: | Lot's Cave, Inc. | Publication: | July 5, 2014 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords | Language: | English |
| Author: | Amicus |
| ISBN: | 9781310173448 |
| Publisher: | Lot's Cave, Inc. |
| Publication: | July 5, 2014 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords |
| Language: | English |
An artist travels to a remote but beloved spring to sketch the river and its verdant surrounds when he meets a lovely creature in sparkling pastel gauze wearing a crown of flowers who unexpectedly dances for him. Is it the heat or her allure? He has to have her. Together, they share something magical, something that transcends the marks on his sketchpad, an incendiary lust, that bind them forever.
EXCERPT:
“I knew it!”
The sharp high pitched female voice startled me into an auto responsive jerk and defensive posture as I went rigid in the chair. “What the hell?”
“Sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you.”
My head had already swung around to the source of the voice and it surprised me that she stood so close; how could I have not heard her approach? For a moment I could find nothing to say. She was tiny, fragile, barefooted and was wearing…ah, I don't even know how to describe the layers of gauze like material that clung to her shoulders and hung down just below her knees. A shimmering, wavering image of pastel blues and greens and sparkles and a damned Princess crown of flowers on her head, woven into her hair and looking as if it belonged there. Stunned to silence, I could only gasp and blink my eyes.
“You left cigarette butts all over the place. No one ever comes here. It took me a while to figure it out, I was right; you are an artist and I think I know what you are drawing. May I see?”
The high pitch to her voice was gone and replaced with a soft female huskiness that I felt rather than heard. I stuttered out my reply, still recovering from the shock of her being here. “Sure, uh, I don't mind.”
“Thanks. Some artists won't let you see until it is finished.”
I followed her with my eyes as she moved behind me and leaned down, looking over my shoulder to share the perspective. I could see her head move slightly from side to side and then up and down as she compared the canvas to the scene before us.
“Oh! Gosh. I had a little shiver! I see what you want! Wow! And it works! I can almost see the water moving in the river! And it is like the trees and bushes…ah, are alive and aware of what the river brings! Oh!”
Then she moved alongside the chair and moved her head quickly from canvas to scene. “That tree is not there! Oh! I see. It needed to be there! She continued shifting her glance and pointed at both the canvas and the natural scene surrounding us. Then she stopped and paused and folded her arms across her chest. After a moment she turned and walked slowly away and paced in a small circle a few steps away.
After a bit she turned and walked back, paused to my left and a little in front of me, and looked intensely down at my face. “Some artists don't take suggestions well...”
She left the words just hanging. I studied her face as she kept my gaze. Fragile, sculpted lines, fine lines, formed her face. High forehead, wide set eyes...Eyes! God! An almost translucent blue that seemed to draw me into her! Amazing…stunning...a small mouth not full lipped or thin but warm and almost petulant and teasing and uplifted at each corner with a small crease of shadowed muscle on just one side. Oh, to try to capture her face!
“You always wear that beard?”
I think my staring upset her. “You always wear a wreath of flowers in your hair?”
She smiled and colored slightly and made a little titter. “I love this place. I came here to dance as a young girl; I dress like the place makes me feel. I am so happy you see it too.”
Now I was a little embarrassed; her open honesty was real and it touched me. I turned back to look at my canvas again.
An artist travels to a remote but beloved spring to sketch the river and its verdant surrounds when he meets a lovely creature in sparkling pastel gauze wearing a crown of flowers who unexpectedly dances for him. Is it the heat or her allure? He has to have her. Together, they share something magical, something that transcends the marks on his sketchpad, an incendiary lust, that bind them forever.
EXCERPT:
“I knew it!”
The sharp high pitched female voice startled me into an auto responsive jerk and defensive posture as I went rigid in the chair. “What the hell?”
“Sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you.”
My head had already swung around to the source of the voice and it surprised me that she stood so close; how could I have not heard her approach? For a moment I could find nothing to say. She was tiny, fragile, barefooted and was wearing…ah, I don't even know how to describe the layers of gauze like material that clung to her shoulders and hung down just below her knees. A shimmering, wavering image of pastel blues and greens and sparkles and a damned Princess crown of flowers on her head, woven into her hair and looking as if it belonged there. Stunned to silence, I could only gasp and blink my eyes.
“You left cigarette butts all over the place. No one ever comes here. It took me a while to figure it out, I was right; you are an artist and I think I know what you are drawing. May I see?”
The high pitch to her voice was gone and replaced with a soft female huskiness that I felt rather than heard. I stuttered out my reply, still recovering from the shock of her being here. “Sure, uh, I don't mind.”
“Thanks. Some artists won't let you see until it is finished.”
I followed her with my eyes as she moved behind me and leaned down, looking over my shoulder to share the perspective. I could see her head move slightly from side to side and then up and down as she compared the canvas to the scene before us.
“Oh! Gosh. I had a little shiver! I see what you want! Wow! And it works! I can almost see the water moving in the river! And it is like the trees and bushes…ah, are alive and aware of what the river brings! Oh!”
Then she moved alongside the chair and moved her head quickly from canvas to scene. “That tree is not there! Oh! I see. It needed to be there! She continued shifting her glance and pointed at both the canvas and the natural scene surrounding us. Then she stopped and paused and folded her arms across her chest. After a moment she turned and walked slowly away and paced in a small circle a few steps away.
After a bit she turned and walked back, paused to my left and a little in front of me, and looked intensely down at my face. “Some artists don't take suggestions well...”
She left the words just hanging. I studied her face as she kept my gaze. Fragile, sculpted lines, fine lines, formed her face. High forehead, wide set eyes...Eyes! God! An almost translucent blue that seemed to draw me into her! Amazing…stunning...a small mouth not full lipped or thin but warm and almost petulant and teasing and uplifted at each corner with a small crease of shadowed muscle on just one side. Oh, to try to capture her face!
“You always wear that beard?”
I think my staring upset her. “You always wear a wreath of flowers in your hair?”
She smiled and colored slightly and made a little titter. “I love this place. I came here to dance as a young girl; I dress like the place makes me feel. I am so happy you see it too.”
Now I was a little embarrassed; her open honesty was real and it touched me. I turned back to look at my canvas again.
