Vito’s is busy not only because it’s Friday night, but it’s almost the last weekend of the season. Labor Day, the last weekend of the season, will be wild around here. But after; the beach cities lose their tourist influx and seaside havens become local fare for another eight months. We walk in, immediately the hostess stares longingly at Justus while collecting two menus. I smirk internally because this is so ridiculous.

His charm oozes when the girl attempts to put us at a table in the middle of the restaurant, “Excuse me, Jill is it?” He says and leans into her pointing to a booth in the corner, “Could we sit over there please?”

“Um…sure, right this way.” Her nervous chuckle is even more entertaining.

Once we are shown to the table I ask Jill for a highchair, she doesn’t look at me when she agrees. I nod and sit taking the strap of my bag from around my neck. I suppose I’m settling in aggressively because Justus is staring at me.

“What?” I ask.

He shakes his head, smiling and drapes his arm along the back of the booth. His arm is so long that his fingers rest comfortably at the end of the vinyl seat. We order and of course I’m not engaged once by the waitress. Justus orders Soren’s favorite; the Sweetwater pie and an order of onion rings. I order a salad with blue cheese to accompany my pizza. The waitress is overly attentive while we eat, to the degree of insanity; her other tables are glaring at us.

We’re approached by a gaggle of sorority girls and Justus obliges them with pictures. Cell phone cameras click and more than ten standard camera pictures are taken while Soren and I eat. I pay it no mind until one of the sorority girls leans over and tells me how lucky I am. I shrug it off and she takes this personally, but how can I be impressed with someone I know nothing about? I realize she doesn’t know that, so I smile as sincerely as possible to soften my reaction.

Soren is clearly tired of all the hoopla and calls out, “Broder!” over and over again.

Justus turns back to table at Soren’s incessant hollering. I add to it; my face is showing aggravated patience.

“Thank you ladies, thank you for watching the show. It was lovely to have met you all.” And it’s an unspoken agreement amongst them; the girls disperse as Justus takes his seat, and thankfully Soren stops yelling.

Soren and I have finished our meal while Justus has yet to begin; he looks around for our waitress who jumps when she sees him searching, “Yes sir?” She certainly is eager.

“Jill,” his tone is sincere, “Please wrap this up for me to leave?”

“Of course.” She sadly removes our plates and disappears in the back.

Justus turns to meet my eyes since I’m boring a hole in the side of his face. Once he does I turn to Soren and ask him if he is ready to go, “Yes.” He says quite agreeably.

Jill returns with Justus’s to go box and on top she has written her phone number inside a heart. I roll my eyes where she can’t see me and pull Soren out of the high chair. The restaurant is quieter as we leave then it was during our meal and I feel a thousand eyes on me. We are out the door but I can’t help turning to stare at the blue building when conversations re-erupt and laughter re-permeates the space. I shake my head walking to the Jeep.

The sun is twenty minutes from descending below us and before I get into the car, I grab my camera from my linen sack, “Give me five minutes.” I say holding my hand up.

“Five!” Soren jovially calls from the back seat.

Justus huffs but I slam the door anyway and crest the side of Vito’s to capture the remaining light of the day. I get five or six decent shots of just the sky and a few land shots to represent scale. I flip through the memory before walking back to the Jeep.

I open the door and hop in, “Thanks.” I say while securing my camera back in my bag.

Justus starts the engine and we ride down Lumina Ave in silence; I watch the infinite line on the road out my window.

We are almost back at the house when Justus asks, “Did you get some good pictures?”

“I‘ll have to look at them further when we get back.” I say but I don’t face him.

We arrive and Justus pulls the Jeep in behind my Audi, blocking it in. I begin to protest, but I don’t plan to go out again tonight so I keep my mouth shut; except to ask Justus to get Soren out of the car so I can gather the mail and newspaper from this morning. I don’t scan the letters, not my mail; but there is a thick invitation like envelope in the mass. I throw the mail on the kitchen table and look at the clock.

It’s past Soren’s bath time, hell, by now it’s past his reading time and his bed time, “Soren?” I call, he looks over, “Take a bath?” I ask.

“Bath!” He says and races over to the stairs. He holds his hand out and up we go; Soren is splashing around in the water in no time as I sit on the side of the tub while he plays.

I get him dressed and into bed, I grab one of his favorite books and read until he is asleep. I gently close his door and go into my room without a second thought of Justus downstairs or where ever he is at the moment. I change my clothes and go back into the bathroom to brush my teeth. Lars, I suspect will be home soon and I learned my lesson the first night I was here. The door to the bathroom is cracked while I brush; my sonic style toothbrush vibrates my hand like my tattoo gun. I think of Frankie and Molly then Scarlet and Henri. I brush twice as long as the recommended time, I‘m lost in thought so long.

In my peripheral I see the door slowly open; Justus is standing outside of it in a pair of old, loose medical scrubs and nothing else. The thin blue pants leave nothing to the imagination. He passes behind me and grabs an untouched blue toothbrush, in the mirror I watch him apply a generous amount of toothpaste to it before inserting it into his pouted mouth. I finish and rinse, replacing my toothbrush in its charger base. I glance up at Justus once more before leaving the bathroom. He smiles through minty foam.

In my room I prepare to paint; I put on my shuffle player and thankfully the trance inducing sound of the Gorillas is what begins. I pull my men’s dress shirt on over my white tank top. I remove my pajama pants so I don’t ruin them. I often paint in my underwear, it’s easier to clean paint off skin than it is clothes. I don’t realize it when I put it on, but this is the blue pinstripe shirt of Griffin’s I was wearing when…and it hits me harder than ever.

Repressing the urge earlier, not once but twice, was more than a terrible idea. I don’t see anything; I’m in complete checkerboard Alice in Wonderland-ville but the sensations my body is exuding are exquisitely overpowering. A rush of erotic sparks rolls from my head to the tip of my pinkie toes and I suppose I lose balance and fall because I don’t feel like I‘m on my feet. I hear a loud bang but I can’t concentrate on it because the rush has reached each tip of each of my nerve endings; my nipples pucker and they are wound so tight it’s deliciously painful. That wonderful sensation sends a message to the sexual button at the apex of my thighs and the only thing I hear is my own voice call out, “CIAN!” I feel spastic as my back arcs and the moistness down low escape me. I gasp for breath and slowly focus my vision, the checkerboard diminishes and I’m utterly mortified at the figure hovering over me.

“Who’s Cian?” Justus is holding his hand out for me to take it.

I feel like an idiot, but I lift from the floor and the back of my head hurts so intensely, I grab it, “Oh”, I look at my hand for blood, nothing thankfully. I take Justus’s hand and get to my feet, “Thanks.” I say adjusting my shirt and the fact that I’m in my underwear in front of the boss’s son is the least of my worries.

“Are you okay?” He asks and in his face I see genuine concern.

“I’m fine.” I say backing away from him. His body is exuding that heady smell. And in my current state of mind it’s not helping the situation.

I’m on my feet but Justus’s attentions are diverted to the finished Burgwin-Wright painting and the beginning of the Downtown building, “You painted these?!” He says and the exhilarating sincerity in his voice is pleasing.

“Yeah.” I respond as I’m still trying to regain composure, rubbing the back of my head.

“Their magnificent!”

“Thanks. I need to pick up more canvas but so far they are the only two I’ve done. I have to save these two for your and Soren’s portraits.” I stand behind him pointing to the blank spaces.

He turns back to face me, “Why these?”

“I’m sorry?” I ask.

“Why do you have to save these canvases for our portraits?”

“They are a higher quality, meaning more expensive, canvas. If I use this consistency of fabric your portraits will stand the test of time short of being submerged in water.”

I seem to have gone over his head because he changes the subject, “My father called, he is on his way home.”

“Oh, well it’s after 8:00 so I’m up here for the night. Tell him I said hello.” I walk toward the door hoping Justus will follow. He doesn’t take the hint and stands in the middle of my bedroom, shirtless, statuesque and handsomely confused.

“I don’t understand.” He says.

I hold my hand out to usher Justus from my temporary dwelling, “Please.” He scoffs and walks out of my room. He turns to say something else, but I close the door in his face. I hear him down the hall and down the stairs, I take a deep breath thankful he didn’t want further explanation of my fainting or yelling but I’m sure it will come up again. I get the feeling his type doesn’t let embarrassing moments like that go.

I’m truly in a zone shading and finalizing the Downtown building since I don’t hear knocking at my door and I have no idea what time it is until Justus blatantly enters my room, “What the hell?!” I say oblivious to the fact that I have removed my over shirt, my painters pallet and brush firmly in hand.

Justus stands staring, literally casing me from head to toe. I look down for a safe place to set my pallet and brush down, but decide at the last moment, I’m going to play with this arrogant prick. Slowly I stretch; arching my back so that my breasts elevate. As I do so my white boy shorts ride slightly into the crack of my behind, I reach back and insert my fingers in between the seam and my skin to cover the bulges of flesh. He is watching with great intention as I slither over to grab my over shirt; I slowly insert one arm and then the other, my body contorting playfully. I look up at him, he is watching my hands. I take each button and secure them before asking, “Can I help you?”

Justus blinks repetitively before saying, “I’m sorry; but I did knock. My father is home and would like to speak with you.”

Instantly I’m obedient, rushing around my room for my pajama pants. I slip them on all while Justus remains standing in my room, enjoying my frenzy. I pass him out the door and I hear a small laugh as I round the corner. Downstairs Lars is standing in the kitchen eating a banana, “You wanted to see me?” I ask.

He finishes the mass of mush in his mouth and says, “Yes, Babet. I’m sorry to wake you, its just…”

I don’t let him finish, “Your schedule, yes sir.” My tone is one of complete understanding.

“Yes, well…I’ve been speaking with Justus and if I make arrangements for Soren tomorrow would you be willing to begin the portrait process with him?” He throws the peel in the trashcan by the refrigerator.

I’m slightly confused, “Soren or Justus?”

“Justus.” He says looking over my head.

I don’t notice Justus is standing behind me until I smell him; I turn to look from him to his father. They are both waiting patiently for an answer, Justus more so than his father. I run a hand through my shorter tresses and take a deep breath. Alone with Justus; just fabulous, my thoughts are dripping with sarcasm but I keep my polite southern composure, “Of course.” I smile and turn on heel but I don’t get far.

“What time should I be ready?” Justus calls and I hear the arrogant smile in his voice, its playtime for Babet.

I smile before I turn back around, “If you have time right now, we can talk about it. I heard you have some ideas.” My sweet smile turns alluring.

He takes the bait and his eyes show his excited shock, “Uh, yes.” He recovers quickly, that one, “Where should we…?”

“I’ll be in my room when you are ready to discuss specifics.” I explain before slowly ascending the stairs. I know he and his father are watching and once they think I’m out of ear shot I hear the distinct sound of someone getting patted on the back. I have half a mind to give Justus a piece of my mind once we are behind closed doors and rest assured, he would fucking choke on it. But I won’t, I’m keeping up the ruse until the day I leave for Emerald Isle. If what Henley says is correct, when I return for the second leg of the job; Justus will be gone.

In my room I‘ve resumed painting, to further his expectations I‘ve removed my over shirt and I’m once again in my undergarments. I hear a quiet knock at the door, “Yeah.” I say and the word is hushed out of my mouth, almost husky.

The door opens and Justus comes in, gingerly closing it behind him. He sees me and stops short surprised at my lack of attire. I put down my pallet and brush again and grab my tablet. I sit on the end of the bed while the devise loads. I look up at him as I settle on the bed cross-legged, “Have a seat.” I say before looking back down to bring up the folder of Wilmington pictures. “I know you have some ideas, and I’m receptive but I would like to explain my process to you and we can go from there; okay?”

“Okay.” Justus sits and leans back on his hands. I know this is a move to slowly lower himself to the bed.

I decide to accelerate the situation because, honestly, this is fun. I roll my body from the seated position to lying flat on my stomach on the fluffy duvet. I know my clothes have shifted and that’s the point; I bring my feet up into the air and rub them together while I molest the tablet, “Here are shots of downtown on the Cape Fear Waterfront, I have a great one with trees dripping Spanish moss…” I trail off and crane my neck over my shoulder tilting my head toward the photos, “See.”

Again Justus takes my bait; his brow furrows and he shifts his body to mimic my position. In no time we are flipping through electronic folders of my recently taken photos like a couple of girlfriends. I show him the portraits I painted of my kids and parents; he remarks how well my father has aged. I laugh, but he doesn’t understand. I close that folder and he notices a folder marked “CIAN”.
He points to it, “Open that one.” I open it and his eyes get wide. He smirks, “Hard to compete with that.”

I smile and close the folder without looking at a single picture of my vampire love. Justus asks to see the portrait of Henri again. I open the folder and select the picture, “Is this the painting or the photo you rendered it from?” He asks.

“This is the painting…here,” I say while I open the folder with all the photos I’ve painted, “This is the photo.” He stares at the two side by side, “Check this out,” I expand the painting, “Here, you can see the brushstrokes.”

“I don’t see the brushstrokes, but again, your work is beyond magnificent. I truly look forward to seeing how you see Soren and…me.”

“What do you mean, how I see you? I paint from the photo, I really don’t embellish.” I defend.

“Please don’t take offense, I may not see your brushstrokes here, but I do see a difference in the two. They’re precise to the photos; aside from the passionate adoration you are broadcasting when you paint the eyes. The photo of your son,” He leans over and fingers the screen in front of me, “doesn’t compare to the portrait, his eyes have so much love in them here,” again he expands the picture of the portrait, “these eyes are only what a mother sees. No camera can capture that. So I am truly looking forward to how you see me.”

“Thank you.” I say quietly and I appreciate the sentiment and compliment but the fear of what he will see in his portrait begins to plague me. I can’t dwell on this and it all becomes very lighthearted as I actually feel a somewhat kinship to Justus until he asks about his father’s behavior, “Has my father had any unannounced guests while he’s been here?”

“How would I know if they were unannounced?” I say smiling before I stick the tip of my tongue out at him.

He laughs and he has a beautiful smile, “Touché. I mean, is that why you stay up here after 8:00?”

I decide to keep it real because I feel like Justus lacks honest friendly bonding time, “Uh yeah, the first night I was here, well the second night I was here…I was on the couch playing with this thing,” I tilt the tablet, “He didn’t seem too happy I was still awake.”

Justus simply takes a deep breath and nods his head. He changes the subject and in the short time we’ve spent together I realize this is his defense mechanism, “Well, I like Downtown, but at the Battleship would be so masculine.” He looks to me for a sarcastic reaction and he gets one I am eyeing him like he’s nuts.

“I mean, we can shoot you at the Battleship if you like.” I say trying not to laugh.

He leans over to bump shoulders with me and our feet touch, there is an awkward hole between us which I quickly fill, “Seriously though, any of these places interest you?” I look over to see him staring at me, his eyes trailing from my lips to my eyes.

“I’m not interested in any place but right here, right now.”

I smile, but I know this is another move and I want to verbally lay into him but I can’t and I won’t; not just yet, “Justus?”

“Hmm?” He moans.

“Since I don’t have your brother as my main priority tomorrow, would you be willing to make a day of scouting the perfect location? We can have breakfast and hit the town.”

He seems taken back by my boldness and even though I’m scantily dressed the seriousness of this professional opportunity is not far from my mind. I stand to make a nice chunk of change for painting the two portraits Lars Gunnar has commissioned of his sons. Justus shifts back to sitting on the edge of the bed but he is silent.

“Hello?” I say and mirror his position, “Something I said?”

“No, I…I’m sorry, yes of course. Breakfast, I will see you at breakfast.” He stands quickly and leaves my room, gently closing the door behind him.

Granted it was awkward but he accepted and since I won’t sleep I grab my pallet and brush. But I put it back down again and pick up my tablet. I open the “classified” folder which contains the paintings of that night and nights I spent with Cian. I flip past the “Death of Mora” section and reach the pictures of the being I want to look at for eternity. I open the depiction of our first meeting, at the burning of my studio. His beautiful ice blue eyes and raven mop stand out, flanked by a midnight backdrop with bursts of orange, blue and red. How his eyes darkened when our hands touched, the relief I felt when he was there; and the despair I felt when he was not.

I close that one and open another of his alluring face. I finally open the one that I took great patience with, the one I bled, sweat and cried over. My sex tightens when the picture loads and there he stands stark naked in front of me, the Roman backdrop of Mora’s basement flanks his pale angelic frame. I focus on each rippling stomach muscle trailing down to his sculpted hips where I ran my thumbs before taking his magnificent manhood into my mouth. How cold his cock felt on my tongue and at the back of my throat. My eyes close as my fingers dip below the seam of my panties. I see him clear as day in my mind as he dives down to my inner thigh, grazing his protruding teeth across my delicate flesh. I remember how thrillingly frightened I was when he held my wrists in his giant hand, like an adult holding a pair of baby’s legs. My body tenses when I remember his words, “I won’t hurt you.” The ripple of ecstasy bursts through and I grab my right breast when the moist warmth inside, flows out. I hear a whisper, “Cian.” And I know it’s my own cracking voice echoing my ears.

My eyes don’t open until I hear rapping at my door. I sit up and grab the back of my head again; I look around and out the window. The sun is up, had I slept? Had I actually slept? I turn in the bed and hear my tablet hits the floor. I don’t get to invite the caller in before he enters, again; unannounced.

Justus is standing at the foot of my bed, he is dressed casually in jeans and a white polo shirt and I assume this portrait is a casual one. He crosses barefoot to the window and opens the blinds; I flinch at the shock of morning light. He saunters over to me and picks up my tablet, unfortunately it is still on the picture of Cian in not but his skin. I rub my forehead while Justus stares at it. He smirks before saying, “Hmm, I’d like you to paint me this way. Brave gent posed for photos eh?”

Oh, this is going to be grand, “No, I painted that one from memory.” I say giving him a sleepy smile.

He isn’t amused, but I am as I watch him place the tablet on the bedside tablet without closing it, “Breakfast is ready.” His clipped tone makes me grin.

I jump up to grab the tablet and close the folder down before locking the devise. Justus is still watching me as I look up at him, “Do you mind? I need to get dressed.”

“I don’t mind.” He says sitting on the bed.

I roll my eyes and grab my clothes to stomp into the bathroom. Once I’m beyond the doorframe I smile, and like an evil cartoon character I’m tapping my fingers together, “Splendid.” I put on my baby blue sundress and flip flops. I finger my hair through the little tangles and apply modest makeup; Mamma always says wear makeup to look like you’re not wearing makeup; Natural beauty. I don’t use lipstick, but I do line my lips and apply gloss. Again; it’s more of a natural look. I leave the bathroom to throw my clothes in my room; Justus has dispersed and left my door wide open. I go in then close it behind me after I gather the things I need for the day. Camera, Tablet, Bag, Cell phone…and I remember, FUCKING A!!! I need to call my Daddy. I keep getting distracted by the precise person I need to talk to him about.

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