Bite of Art (closed)

My god he is male. She thought to her self and took another deep breath repeating herself and using her hand to point to emphasize the words she was saying

"This is what I created from the words you put on the page. This is what your words inspired me to see."

Henry gave me your novel. Your words gave me this". "The anger the passion everything that is in this drawing, in this room came from you.

"I have sketchbooks and doodles of things your words in novels 1-9 inspired in storage. Your house is your words alive. I could sit for days and just sketch and sketch what i saw in my head from your words, just by looking around this house."

she stopped talking and gave him time to absorb what she was saying.

Her words hit him like a sledgehammer. Aside from her anger, she had made an astounding observation; something he had never seen in his own work before. She said that his house were his words alive.

He broke eye contact and turned slowly to pick up her book from the table.

“Your work in this is great.” He handed the book to her. “Your work in this,” motioning to the picture he still held in his other hand, “is inspired.” Making eye contact with her once again, he handed her the frame.

“You’re correct. I was looking in the wrong place. But, I think I have found new inspiration myself.” The stirring continued to smolder in his loins. “Please stay for a few more days. Ask Wendelle to show you the Galleries and grounds if you like. I have some work to do. I’ll contact you when I’m ready.”

Turning quietly, he walked to his office and closed the door.

Immediately, he began to write. He harnessed his frustration, the primal urges stirring within him and wrote non stop for what seemed only a blink of an eye. When he stopped, he realized he had written almost 100 pages, but the story was not yet fully told.

He re-read what he had written. Made some changes and adjustments and summoned Wendell. “Please bring this,” handing the manuscript to his assistant, “to Ms. Davis, and ask her if this is sufficient for her to get started. I need to rest now.”

"of course" she said without reservation. "I'll stay as long as you need me to". Those words came out more heartfelt then anything she had ever said in her entire life.

Smiling at him she turned and headed back to bed. When she awoke a few hours later. The kitchen supplied her with a menu. With her choices made, she sat in the big room with her sketch book and worked on a corner molding that had caught her eye. After breakfast she had Wendelle show her out to the garden.

The staues Valhalla collected over the years were originals. Pieces that museums had once had, or collectors. Here and there were also some modern ones. Great expense was done to make them appear as natural as possible out doors Yet still be protected from any elements. His garden seemed to have a retractable roof, and encloscloser just for that purpose.

The one that she sat in front of was about seven foot high made from marble. A man with european features, barechested wearing what she could best describe as vintage cargo pants that were rolled at the ankle. Carried in his arms a woman with flowing hair and gown. If she had to guess she would say that it was a roman sculpture. Her eyes were closed and her hand laid out as often seen of dead people being carried. She looked at peace. The look upon his face however was one of pure agony and torture.

She had been working on this a couple hours when Wendelle had found her again handing her the begining of a novel. He had explained that she was to start her work with this. Closing her book she rose and took the scipt back up to her room.

Inspiration hit her like a ton of bricks. The writing in this was more then he'd ever put in his books. Her lunch was brought to her room and she picked at it here and there not wanting to put her pencil down. Just based on the first ten pages she'd accumilated fifty sketches. They were rough but detailed enough to potray everything she could put into them.

Wendelle had some gowns dropped off with shoes and hair accessories when he advised her dinner would be served at 8. Looking at the clock it was already 7:32. Her hands were covered in the various mediums she had used on the sketches, as well as smudges on her face.

"Please advise Mr. Valhalla that i may be a few minutes late, she used her hands to emphasize why, she had to take a shower, there was no way around it.

With her hair up and as elgant as she could make it, make up on, heels and a gorgeous strapless green ballgown that had a swooping back that required she go braless. She made her way carefully down the grand ornate mahogoney staircase. Entering the dining room. She stopped once again. This time she smiled. Walking over to the chair that was held out for her.

Wendell conveyed her message, indicating that it may take longer than the “few minutes” she had indicated. Regardless, he stood ready to seat her when she arrived. Next to her place setting was another installment of his manuscript in a binder.

She entered the Dining Room only fifteen minutes late. She stopped for a moment in the doorway, back straight, head held high. Her hair was styled in an elegant bun and the strapless design of her gown accented the delicate curve of her neck and the swell of her bosom.

She approached him as if gliding. The cut of the gown provided an illusion of sensuous movement without effort.

“Ms. Davis…. You… You look… Stunning.” He stammered while trying to seat her without making a fool of himself.

“I hope that you have enjoyed your time here since our last meeting.” Taking his own seat next to her at the head of the table, he felt the initial stirring of some very different primal urges.

"Thank you Mr. Valhalla" she responded sincerly."You look quite stunning yourself." she added as her eyes couldn't leave his face. As she put the napkin on her lap she got a serious expression on her face as she looked over to the manuscript.

"we have a problem Mr. Valhalla, I'm going to need more paper and pencils. I did about fifty sketches just off of your first ten pages. Her eyes looked at up him as she grinned and laughed a little.

"With your permission, i'd like to stay on until you've approved the final pieces for your novel. Then perhaps a little longer to continue sketches.

Also if we could set up the drafting table somewhere that would be accesible to you. That way you can check in from time to time, and give me your feed back. I find that its less cumberson to make changes as i work, rather then spend hours an hours on a piece to have it discarded..

It's like tearing out a piece of my soul."

She smiled again and took the first bite of her salad.

He smiled at her compliment and then forced his face to remain that way when she said, “We have a problem…” He quickly wondered what he possibly could have done wrong this time.

His doubts were alleviated however, and he almost chuckled out loud, when she stated the nature of the “problem.” Breaking eye contact with her, he looked to Wendell, who stood discreetly in the corner.

“Wendelle, please be sure that Ms. Davis has ample amounts of whatever supplies she needs, and please have the staff move her drafting table into the Office immediately.” He turned back to his guest just in time to see her ruby lips wrap around her salad laden fork. A small drop of dressing catching on her lower lip until caught by her tongue.

His loins stirred again.

“So…” he stammered, “I take it that you have been productive. Is the new story more… inspiring?” He smiled again at her. “I’d hate to have to rip out your soul… too often.”

Wiping the sauce with her napkin she smiled back at him. "This could possibly be the best thing you've ever written." she advised with another smile.

She ate her fish and drank her wine, ignoring his tearing out her soul comment. Her hand cramped up and she dropped her fork. The look of pain crossed her face then she hid it as she picked back up her fork.

Giving a quaint smile she set down her fork and used her other hand to pick up her glass. "Just for that comment" she teased, "I'm not going to show you any sketchs till tomorrow.

Flexing her hand she took another drink. "My compliments to the chef" she said softly.

He smiled again, acknowledging her compliment, and they both returned to eating their meal in relative silence. For his part, the silence was two fold. First, it gave him an opportunity to study her more closely; second, he was afraid that anything he said could derail her current demeanor. She seemed much happier this evening than she had been even when he first met her.

So he took the opportunity to look closely at this woman who had, over the course of a very few days, managed to frustrate, anger, interest and inspire him. Such was the total contrast between now and the last time he saw her in peace-sign jammies and a t-shirt, that he did not initially register how the seafoam green material of the gown worked with her ruby tresses to accentuate the depth of her eyes.

Pain suddenly registered in those eyes, and he heard the clatter of silverware being dropped. She fumbled to pick up her fork, but the pain she tried to hide in her face was captured in her eyes.

He started to ask if she was OK, but stopped when he recognized that she might be hiding the pain from him, not hiding it out of stubbornness.

She then teased and complimented the chef, but the pain still lingered in her eyes. He decided to keep things between them light, for the moment.

“I’m very glad you enjoyed your meal this time. As far as the sketches go, I’m sure by now the staff have most of your studio packed up and are in the process of moving it.” He took a sip of his wine. “We can review them together in the morning.” He paused to gather his thoughts.

“I am curious though... what was different this time? What scenes captured your imagination enough to preserve them in images?”

"Your words." She answered simply. "Your words are what created the images in my head. Once they have everything moved i'll show you what the first ten pages resulted in. Now keep in mind these are all rough sketches."

Her hands hadn't been conditioned to this type of work in quite some time. She would have to take care not to over do it. "Perhaps you would be so kind as to escort me through your garden, and show me your sculptures. I would be interested in knowing what thoughts and what prompted you to acquire them."

This evening was definitely going better then she ever imagined. The more they got to know each other and understand what made the other one tick. The better their working relationship would be.

When he smiled it reached into her soul and shined a light inside of her. It was a combination effect that came over her. On one hand she realized how alone she felt. Since Henry, the thought of another man being in her life just hadn't seemed an option. On the other hand, it was a feeling of life he ignited inside of her.

“Don’t worry,” he chuckled “I’ll definitely keep in mind that these are first draft sketches of first a first draft novel… round two. I guess we both need to be more… patient with each other.”

His words were gentle; the stirring in his loins, however, was singing a different song. A few moments ago her eyes held pain, and now she seemed radiant. He fought to keep his eyes on hers. The vast expanse of skin displayed above and the sway of her breasts within her gown kept catching his attention throughout the meal.

He thought her suggestion to tour the gardens was as an excellent idea.

“I would be honored to show you the Gardens and answer any questions you may have.”

They continued their meal making small talk. When Wendelle appeared with the their final course, he rose.

“Just a moment Wendell, I think we’ll have dessert later,” extending his hand to her, “after we tour the Gardens.” Turning to Sheila, “If that’s OK with you?”

She was glad he didn't pry about her hand. The last thing she needed was him thinking she wasn't up to the task of working on his book. Especially after they had finally overcame so many hurdles in their re pitou.

Gladly she extended her hand and he placed it on his arm as he guided her into the garden. "This one", she said leading him to the 7 foot sculpture she had been drawing earlier that day.

It was the sculpture of the man carrying the woman. "This one i was immediately drawn to and started drawing earlier today. The look of anguish upon his face as he carries the what appears to be a dead woman. What made you choose this one?" she asked."Most would have shied away from its despair. I think it's romantic personally."

With her hand on his arm, they walked to the garden. She led him directly to one of his favorite pieces. The original sculptor’s name was unknown, but he had acquired the piece while living in Italy during the the 900’s. It was one of a select group of large sculpture pieces that he insisted travel with him throughout the centuries. He too was struck by the piece. The anguish that was captured on the man's face and the regal beauty of the woman, even in death, spoke to him.

“It’s called ‘The Failure of Orpheus,’ I found it a very long time ago and always keep it near.

To me, the sculptor has truly captured the anguish of Orpheus after failing to rescue his beloved wife Euridice from the underworld. His impossible victory in persuading Hades and Persephone to allow his wife to return to the word above, dashed in a moment that should have been joy, when he turned to see her before she had fully emerged into the world.”

He stood silently with her for a few moments viewing the piece together.

The piece overwhelmed her so much she found herself leaning into Valhalla. She coughed slightly when she realized it and step away awkwardly.

"Sorry about that, that piece is simply overwhelming. Your story about it, even more so. You're a very interesting man Mr. Valhalla. Just when i think i have you figured out theres a new twist." She grinned teasingly.

Taking his arm she drug him around the garden making similar inquires.

"I think its time for you to see what i've been working on" she advised allowing him to lead her inside to her new work area.

Opening up the portfolio she pulled out the stack of drawings. Placing them in order and upside down so he couldn't see them. She then made him sit. Placing the ten pages in front of him she had him re read the first page, before showing him the sketches that went with it.

This continued until he'd gone through all ten pages, and all of the drawings.

"What do you think?" she questioned.

He felt her lean in and smiled to himself. She felt good pressed against him while they viewed one of his favorite pieces together. Unfortunately, it was over all too soon.

He answered every question she had, and imparted as much of the truth as he could about how and where he had acquired them. Soon they were back inside and he was presented with ten sketches to review.

One by one he looked at the sketches, each better than the next. They were definitely drafts, but they were incredible. It was like she was in his head while he was writing, such was the clarity of vision she captured he wondered briefly if she may have a hint of the supernatural herself.

Her inquiry about his thoughts when unanswered. He was still absorbing the works.
He spent twenty minutes flipping back between all ten sketches. Finally he held two up next to each other at arms length. Together they formed a panorama that was even bigger than the vision that had inspired him while writing.

He stood and swiftly closed the distance between them. He hugged her. He hugged her long and hard. “Yes,” he said, “yes, this is it. This is the vision I was trying to convey. You captured it.”

Realizing what he did he released her and took a half step back. In all the years he worked with Samantha, he had never embraced her like this. He was embarrassed, but at the same time excited to find someone like Sheila.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

His excitement over the sketches thrilled her to no end. When his muscular arms wrapped around her and held her to him, she returned the embrace. His scent was electrifying.

The feel of his body pressed against hers created a reaction in her that caused her to blush. Again there was that hunger, but then he let her go. She smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. Her heart was still racing, and she was quite certain if he were anything but human he would beable to pick up on her excretion of wetness.

"no, don't be sorry. I am glad that they revoked such a response in you. It shows that we're in sync. If i can draw from your words and capture what is in your mind, then this" she motioned between the two of them with her hand. "this is working the way it needs to. Besides i don't break so easily." She smiled and got on her tip toes placing a kiss on his cheek.

"Now i propose that i take ten pages a day and come up with a group of sketches. While you're waiting you can determine what ones you want for sure back ups etc. Will that work for you?"

Even Henry didn't create such a chemical reaction in her body as this man did. A wave of guilt passed over her.

Still close, and now recovered a bit from his initial embarrassment, he smiled at her words. He would have blushed if he could, at her kiss. Instead, the passion that had started during dinner reignited with a vengeance.

“Ten… yes, ten would be good. We can work on them together… we can…” He leaned in and kissed her full on the lips. He wrapped his arms around her and just kissed. He had not felt like this in over a century. It felt good. It felt right. It felt primal.

He was filling her ears with the wonderful carmel sound of his voice as she tried to recover from the hug. Then his arms were around her and he was kissing her. Her body instantly molded to his. Her arms went around his neck and she returned the long hungry passionate kiss.

if she could have devoured him with her mouth she would have. But the deep long passionate kiss had her simply melting in his arms. Slowly she pulled back and broke their lips apart as she tried to catch her breath. She didn't leave the embrace of his arms, just the lock of his lips. Her eyes searched his as her hand went lightly over his cheek.

"if you're this excited after those drawings i cant' wait till the next set she teased before kissing his lips again softly. "I think i should probably turn in so i can be up early to start on the next set." she whispered breathless as she broke that kiss.

Kissing him again with that hunger for a moment she stepped back. "Thank you for a wonderful evening." It took every ounce of energy she had to step back out of those arms. She wanted him like a bitch in heat.

The thought of him throbbing and pounding into her barely allowed her to get up to her room. It was there she hiked up her dress and rammed her fingers into her violently, fucking herself with such a primal desire she couldn't help but cry out loudly when she came violently over and over again.

Reluctantly, he let her break the kiss. He thought she was teasing when she suggested returning to her chambers… alone. Then the second kiss.

With the second kiss his other senses caught up with his desire and he could feel, taste and smell her passion. But all too quickly, she pulled away, thanked him and turned toward the door.

The vision of her nearly bare back hovered above the exquisite outline of her ass. The gowns cut accentuated every wiggle of her hips.

Somewhat stunned, he gave her a few moments to proceed before heading to his own chambers just down the hall from hers. He knew this time she was not leaving in a huff, or in a tizzy. This time, she was leaving for a different reason.

As he passed her door, he knew. He could hear her fingers working in and out, over and over, faster and faster. He could smell the tang of her excitement.

Closing the door to his own chambers, the air was still thick with the scent of her. He sat at his small study desk, and smiled. He had waited over a century, he could wait another night.

He began to write.

At midday he descended the stairs. The Manse had been modified long ago to ensure that the suns rays did not enter the primary rooms, or their corridors. Day time was not a problem for vampires, it was daylight that was a problem.

Opening the doors to his office, he saw Sheila at work. She wore baggy, weathered, OD Green fatigue pants, the cuffs rolled to mid calf, and a white, collar frayed, man’s oxford shirt. Her hair may have started the day brushed and neat, but that had passed long ago. Charcoal stained her fingers, and there was a small rainbow smear of it on her cheek. In short, she looked… delicious.

“Good day Sheila, I hope you slept… well?”

After masterbating her way into a coma. She awoke feeling a new bounce to her step. She dressed for work in her retro clothes for comfort hoping to get a good start on the work that lay ahead of her.

Again she found herself in an inspired zone not even realizing he'd entered the office until he spoke.

"Morning Victor" She replied with a smile. "I slept like a princess, and yourself?"

she questioned putting down her charcoal and turning to him. It took all the strength she had not to rise up and kiss him like she did last night. There needed to be that restraint, or she would never get any work done.

"Come pull up a chair an look at what i have so far" she asked turning back toward her work and picking up the charcoal again.

His smile was pleasant on the outside, but on the inside he knew she was only telling part of the truth. She may have indeed slept like a “princess,” but it took a lot of energy to get there. He thought back fondly of the orgasmic cries that interrupted his writing throughout the night, and knew that he would cause her to make those same sounds himself.

Taking a chair placed near her drawing table, he held out his hand containing his writings from the night toward her.

“I did not sleep. I wrote. Let’s trade.”

"I must say you look rather well for not sleeping" she advise with a smile. "When i don't sleep i look like a zombie. I get these huge bags under my eyes and they get all blood shot. " she laughed a little trading work with him. "Wow, this is amazing" she advised nudging him playfully.

"Before i forget, is it ok if i take tomorrow as my off day?" she asked as she handed him some more sketches. Just catching his eyes caused her to feel feverish inside. Those kisses last night were unlike anything she'd ever experienced.

He chuckled to himself about her reference to looking like a Zombie without sleep. He knew what real zombies looked like and she was decidedly more appealing.

Her gentle nudge, made his loins re-ignite with a small portion of last night’s passion.

Her request for a day off the following day was unexpected. Most humans felt that Sunday was the day to rest and the following day was only Wednesday, but he nodded his agreement before replying, “Yes, tomorrow is fine, but that means you will have to work on Sunday.. is that a problem?”

He glanced quickly at the drawings she handed him. They were magnificent, but there was an error in one that caught his attention. Her vision was good, but the detail was wrong. It was a minor thing, but he felt he needed to correct it.

He handed her a picture of his Dungun. “This one… it’s not quite right, the details are wrong. I know it's a small thing but it strikes me as a mar on perfection.” Locking his eyes with hers. “Would you like to see?”

"Of course you would have a dungeon" she said out loud and laughed. "absolutely, but let me bring my sketch pad and be prewarned,"she teased, "If it's as magnificent as the dining room i may not leave it."

As they took the long hike she explained "I don't hold any reverence for any particular time, or day of the week. If you find working at nights suits you best, I can easily adjust my schedule. I've always been more of a night owl i think."

Descending down the stairs her hands reached out to touch the walls. It was magnificent craftsmanship. The smell wasn't pleasant, nor was it unpleasant. Oddly it was just how this place should smell she noted. Stopping and dropping to the floor she started drawing immediatley. "What is the history of this?" she asked with a deep interest and passion. The more she sketched the faster her heart raced. She was sketching quickly flipping the page and sketching again. It was as if she had become possessed by the energy in the room.

"Of course you would have a dungeon" she said out loud and laughed. "absolutely, but let me bring my sketch pad and be pre-warned,"she teased, "If it's as magnificent as the dining room i may not leave it."

Her words gripped him in a most sensual way… she did not know how true he could make them.

As they made their journey to the Dungeon he acknowledged her. She was not someone who would be drawn to, or adhere to man's simple norms he readily agreed to her request for a day of rest… after all, if he had his way… she may need it. When they finally arrived, her pencil was like a blur upon the page, again he wondered if she had some supernatural aspects within her, but he put those thoughts aside.

She was sketching everything. every table, every restraint, every whip and every flogger. Most importantly she was sketching his favorite item. The X. It was a simple device and one described vividly in his writings, but she had gotten the clasps of the restraints wrong. This is what he wanted to show her. This was the detail he needed her to see.

“These belonged to my family.” He stated cooly. “Most are just for exhibition, the others… are more working pieces.” Sticking reluctantly, to the task at hand, he showed her the restraints, and the clasps of the buckles that she had imagined wrong. “This is what they really look like.”

"I see" she advised rising and moving her hand to his to take the buckle he made reference to. "I've heard of places like this, but never imagined this much of a collection in anyones home. If you need me to disappear while you 'entertain' just let me know.." She teased again with a smile. I was rather thinking of a dungeon with cells and torture devices. But i suppose at one point these devices could have been considered just that."

Loosing her balance for a moment she fell into him placing her arm on his shoulder to steady herself. "I forgot to eat today it seems." she advised. "I'm afraid when i get caught up in something i'm not the greatest focuser. I like to go go go until i can't anymore. I tend to over extend myself quite often i'm afraid."

She smiled excepting his arm as he assisted her upstairs. "Is there any place that is often limits i should be aware of? In the event i take it upon myself to tour the Manse?"