Ghosts - On And On

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"My underwear is riding up."

"I told you to wear something comfortable, Miranda." I whispered back keeping a smile on my face as the people around us continued to talk in a language I was still trying to familiarise myself with. Art. Not the artists work though, one never discusses the the work unless they know about it or are planning on buying it. I know, the unspoken rules were so odd.

"Yeah, I'm in a tight sleeveless dress in twenty degrees and you're in a polo neck dress. That is classed as comfortable."

"Clearly you've made a mistake."

"Clearly you're being all snippy because you're still nervous." She replied pausing to shake hands briefly with a woman I'd met earlier in the night with shockingly bright blue hair. "Where is the ex-wife anyway? I haven't had a chance to actually talk to her."

"You might not get a chance tonight." I spotted Debbie conversing with the man of the hour himself, Graham Bennett. He was a lovely man, his works a little too risque for me. Abstract figures, bold imagery.

Kind of reminded me a little bit of Francis Bacon, although no one could ever compare to the late Bacon, Bennett was doing a pretty good job of it. I told him exactly that when he asked me what I thought and he took that as more than compliment which was, well, weird. Because truly, it was a moment of word vomit. I'd said there were similarities between his work and the troubled, depressed famous artist that was Bacon but at the same time saying he could never compare to him. But Bennett practically gripped onto what I'd said, pulled me away from the group and thanked me for such a 'special' compliment.

Which only added to the man's unique personality. That and the shaved head, large round glasses and he was six foot seven in height. Graham Bennett was one of a kind.

"Heads up, Liv. Bennett's gesturing you over."

I glanced over again and started to make my way toward them. Debbie was wearing a smile I couldn't even analyse but Bennett's was easier to read. He was curious. About what, I didn't know but I'm sure I was about to find out. My heels clicked along the beautiful tile floor in his hired gallery. It wasn't permanent, he said he never set up in one area for too long, it was just the way he preferred to work. He liked to be spontaneous.

"Olivia, darling come," He took my hand and grinned. "Deborah's told me of your dream to open a space of your own, tell me more. Tell me about your works? Have you got any pictures? Samples? Show me, I'm excited already."

Such an expressive man. I went into my clutch bag and produced a postcard sized copy of one of my portraits - just as Debbie had suggested I get printed professionally the other day. Bennett plucked it from my fingers. I looked over to Miranda giving me a thumbs up before directing my gaze back onto an awing Bennett.

"Regular Freud aren't you. Except there's something different. The colours to his face, they aren't traditional. Very contemporary, daring, kind of mysterious. Like, 'why have you used such warm colours for this man?' 'What's your relationship with him?" It was only a painting of the side of Jake's profile. "Resembles Schierenberg but better. You paint with your emotions, I love it!" He laughed. "I want it, in fact how much are you selling this wonderful piece for. And how big? I could have this in my studio; I could stare at the selection of strokes and colours for hours. Hm? Let's talk numbers sweetie, come, come. My temporary office is this way."

Halfway through whatever he was saying, my mouth started to drop open. Was it really that easy? Maybe this time I was just lucky... or Debbie sweet-talked him for my first sell. Then again she looked just as surprised as I did. Bennett steered me away from her and away from his guests toward's a small room in the back where we debated how much he would buy and how much I was willing to sell it for.

My thirty by twenty inch canvas sold for three hundred and fifty dollars. Now that is what I'm talking about.

**

Ever since the party, I can't even begin to describe how crazy my weeks became. One minute I'm meeting Debbie with my father to sign a four month contract that had been revised at least three times, in the next we're having lunches with possible clients, sending watermarked copies of my work to anybody she thought would be interested and in the next minute my entire living room had turned into my studio. I've been painting nonstop, going out and photographing for inspiration, sketching a resting dog walker by the benches in the park down the street.

In three weeks I've sold six pieces. That was a huge accomplishment in my eyes at least. One was a two piece series of Central Park - green and generic just like Debbie suggested - and then two single pieces to two different people who'd requested portraits from the photographs they'd sent. Plus Bennett's become a regular buyer purchasing another two pieces. I've been meeting him for coffee in Manhattan, once he even brought his wonderful boyfriend Jared. All reasonably priced, all praised and waiting to see what my "online portfolio" would look like after it's finished.

Hopefully Jake finishes it soon; there was one online now but it was too basic. Although the number of views always makes me smile whenever I wake up in the morning to check on it.

Another business week passed and four were sold. I was invited to a private show from a client this Saturday. Thankfully I knew Debbie wasn't going to be there so, because I had this little pull at my mind plus the fact I hadn't seen him for more than a few hours in almost a month, I had to pluck up the courage to invite Eddie.

I knew this wasn't his week to have Chelsea - I worked it out from the last time Debbie mentioned picking her up. I sat nervously staring at his house. It was weird not seeing him at work anymore. I'd gotten so used to it I actually kind of... Wow, I missed him. The emotion was unfamiliar and even the analysis of this had me tightening my grip on the steering wheel. God, is this what it feels like to like someone? Come to think of it, have I ever allowed a relationship... At all?

It was almost the beginning of February and I was already seeing the little blip at the end of the month for the time line I set for myself in December.

The thought banished from my mind when his front door opened and a woman emerged. My eyes widened a little and I tried not to put a name to the emotion when I saw him embrace her. She was pretty; dark hair, couldn't see the eyes but I didn't need to. No, he didn't know I was coming. Plus every time we met he came over to mine. Maybe that was a mistake in itself, it was Saturday afternoon after all. I hadn't seen him in a month and we weren't exactly together so...

Just as I went to turn my car on another woman completely identical to the other stepped around him. Oh! His twin sisters.

I had to laugh at myself a little. They looked just like him now that I could see their grey eyes. Grey eyes that were turning and, shit, looking directly at me.

Hell, crap ah, no.

Eddie leaned around his sisters. Why didn't I just knock? No, wait if I'm wishing for things why didn't I warn him I was coming. Before I could speed off the street, he was jogging down his porch steps toward my car. He signalled for me to roll the windows down with pursed lips as if he was trying to stop himself from laughing.

"You alright out here? You're looking a little bit creepy."

"I was... Deciding whether to call you to give you a heads up I was here." I said ignoring his sisters watching from the front of the house. "And I was right to decide because it looks like you have company."

He leaned an arm on the hood and leaned in. "I wouldn't class them as company. Plus they're leaving now. I'll introduce you."

"Oh that's not really neces-" as I was saying it, he was opening my car door and taking my hand to help me out. "-sary."

The first sister I caught eyes with was a timidly dressed one. Her mom jeans and sweater was plain, her hair braided over her shoulder. She kind of looked like my mom when she was in her late thirties. And if I remembered correctly, they were only twenty-nine. The other sister on the other hand wasn't dressed provocatively but the tight jeans, leather jacket and loose flyaway hair suggested she was probably a wild drunk. Well, at least I'd be able to tell the difference. That and the mole on the wild ones cheek would help.

"Liv, my wonderfully annoying younger sisters Jill," He pointed to mom jeans first. "And Phoebe."

"Smooth, Edward." Phoebe held her hand out to me and I took it with a smile.

"Olivia." And just as I went to remove my hand her grip on my palm stopped me. I frowned a little.

"Olivia?" Jill stepped in. "Grace mentioned an Olivia."

"A few weeks ago in fact." Phoebe added and I could feel the blood draining from my face - and my fingers going a tiny bit numb from Phoebe's handshake. "Olivia as in, you had your friends bachelorette party at Chase's?"

Oh right. "Yeah-"

"And the same Olivia that Eddie took ice-skating whilst Grace and a Uncle Chase babysat?" Jill took my hand from her sister and shook it with a smile that resembled Eddie's almost to the point where I had to double take.

"Ah, um." And now I was blushing.

"Girls, don't you have to meet dad?" Eddie cleared his throat. I looked up at him and was actually thankful to see the red rising up to his face. At least I wasn't the only one suffering. "I'll see you next week."

His hand curled around my forearm and before I could say more than a, "Nice meeting you!" I was thrust up the steps and into his house. He poked his head and muttered something to them which left them both laughing before he shut the door.

His smile was sheepish as he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. "They're a tag team and Grace can't keep her mouth shut, I'm sorry."

"It's fine." I laughed looking around his hallway and the various photographs plastered along the walls trailing up the walnut coloured wooden stairs.

I could see the open kitchen ahead of me, the large archway revealing a small marble island with three chairs around it. As I walked further in, Eddie following silently behind me, I turned my head into the living room and smiled. It was a beautiful home, somewhere a kid could grow up. The living room was attached to the dining area and a patio door that stretched onto a nice intimate garden.

"You have a lovely home, Eddie." I said as I walked to the mantle and smiled at the pictures of Chelsea and her father at what looked to be the park; his sister Jill lying down beside them on a blanket filled with food.

"Thank you." I spun around and found him a few inches behind me, his body leaning forward. I could feel his familiar warmth and I suddenly found myself craving his touch. But it wasn't just his touch I was craving; I realised I craved the intimacy which wasn't something I'd thought I'd ever say. It's true, I'd been too busy to see him. Whenever he called or I called I was either sleeping from an exhausting day or he was too busy working on a commissioned advertisement or just walking out the door. We both had lives. And it wasn't until he stopped modelling for my class did I realise we had completely different schedules.

Just imagine how once six years ago had imprinted such a mark on the both of us that six years later we needed just another taste, just that sense of reassurance that we weren't going crazy; our secret small obsession with one other wasn't just a fantasy in an elevator. And now imagine spending two weeks indulging in that obsession, dipping a finger into that familiar honey pot to sate a guilty pleasure... and then going cold turkey. Stopping when things were beginning to taste better with each dip of the finger.

That's almost exactly how it felt except it was amplified. Eddie was my honey pot. And if being alone in his living room for less than fifteen seconds made me realise that then God help me later on this evening. If I ever get a chance to ask him that is.

He took a small step forward his hand almost hesitantly lifting to skim across my cheek. And for a moment, I lost myself in the feel of his skin against mine. You know what? God help me weeks from now when I need the strength to end it before I can fall for him.

Why do you need to end it? A part of me whispered. And before my rational part could answer, I locked her away along with the reckless romantic part of me and duct taped their mouths.

I looked into his eyes before darting them to my feet. "I actually came over because I have an invite to a private show tonight and I wanted you to come."

"And what about Debbie?" His finger tips ran along the side of my neck and I swallowed.

"She won't be there." I answered although I won't lie there was still a little feeling of uncertainty. What if she gets a babysitter... then again I didn't think Mikhail Petrov knew her properly. Only by name and office.

"So... will you come?"

"Hm... I don't know... What will you give me in return? You being a rising star and all, I'll need to cash in a favour pretty soon."

I rolled my eyes and nudged his arm away. "I'll take that as a yes. A shirt and slacks should suffice. I'll be here around eight."

"So demanding, I like it."

He followed me to the hallway. "Har, har. It'll be an hour tops I promise. Mikhail's a sculptor, it'll be good."

"Alright, I look forward to it."

"Great," I flashed a smile. "I have to get going though, I have a few other errands to run."

After leaving Eddie's I made my way over to Jake and Miranda's to pick up the canvas's she said she didn't need anymore and ended up leaving at five so I was in a tiny bit of a rush to get ready. A quick shower and meal later, I was dressed in my fern green cami dress and flats because driving in heels was a death trap and on my way out the door. The thing started at half eight anyway, we'd be arriving early if we were lucky.

Eddie was already locking up his front door when I pulled into his drive. I took a moment to drink him in as he made his way to the car. My, he was handsome. A white dress shirt, a black pea coat and grey slacks. Plus a scarf was in his hand, the same one from when we went ice-skating. I had to blink. He was just too much.

"Am I over dressed?"

I blinked again because I hadn't realised he'd gotten into the car. "No, you look handsome." I slipped. Damn my loose lips.

"And you look gorgeous but I'm sure once I see you standing you'll look even better."

I blushed and started toward the Battery Tunnel. And it wasn't the only time I blushed, he wouldn't stop mumbling compliments in my ear all night. Even in the presence of people I barely knew, he'd slip his warm palm over my hip, lower his head and whisper things like, "If only I was the only one to see you in this dress," or like, "Men are glaring at me because I've had you by my side all night."

And when he met Mikhail, scarily huge, touchy-feely Mikhail - sculptor after all - the wonderful handshake they shared was a little too white-knuckled for my taste.

"I'm glad you made it, Olivia." He said with his adoring Russian accent. "And with a handsome man on your arm?" He grinned. "My competition. I intend to win the heart of this fair lady, that is if she'll have me."

"You'll have to get in line Mr. Petrov." Eddie said. "But if it's a battle of creative wits you may outdo me."

Mikhail's robust laugh and slap to Eddie's shoulder only made me smile at him. He really is unreal.

**

"Mikhail Petrov... Wonderful guy."

I turned to him just as he shut his front door and smirked. "You're a little jealous aren't you?"

"Jealous? Of Mikhail Petrov? A successful sculptor that had his hands on you for a quarter of the night? Nah, I'm pretty mellow."

"He had his hand on my back and he was introducing me to some buyers." I laughed. "Hardly getting me naked in the backroom is it?"

"I was joking about going into the backroom you know." He dragged me toward his body with a grin playing on his lips. "Come, I want to show you something upstairs."

My gaze immediately narrowed but he shook his head. "No, it's not what you think." He gripped onto my hand and started up his stairs. I hadn't seen the hallway but from the looks of it he had three other doors one probably was his, the other Chelsea's and then the bathroom. Except he wasn't leading me to one of the doors; he was leading me to another staircase at the end of the hall.

I raised a brow when he started leading me up the second set and said, "Is this where you kill me?"

"No, it's even better."

"Than killing me? That's a bit..." I stopped mid-sentence and froze at the room in front of me. It looked amazing with the lights off and even better when he switched on the overhead spotlights. I slipped my shoes off afraid I would ruin the beautiful wooden floors. It was a huge studio; a corner table with an Apple Mac and plenty of paperwork scattered around it. An easel sat in the corner with a large sketchpad attached. There was even a sink and a few stools at the side with paints littered on the counter tops. It was... perfect. The skylight above would be perfect for sketching, even the window on the wall had a wonderful view of the bridge and the Hudson River.

"I had it built before I moved in." He said, moving around me to touch the easel. "If I'm not in here, Chelsea is. She's always trying to paint her characters or trying to practice." I looked to the walls only now noticing the child-like drawn pictures taped along an entire side. Eddie suddenly picked up the easel and placed it just off the center of the room. "Have a look around if you want."

I wandered around the sides, looking at his various notepads as he pulled out one of the stools, shrugged of his coat and sat down. It really was the perfect studio; I was dying to see what it would look like on a sunny day. I stopped at his easel and drifted my eyes to where Eddie was watching me. I hadn't drawn him in so long. And with him sitting so casually on that stool, his beautiful face the perfect image to be immortalised into a painting I just wanted to take a pencil to paper.

And the smile on his face said he knew what I was thinking. "Go ahead. Draw me."

"I couldn't right now-"

"The pencil's right there, Liv. I'll make it easier for you," Before I could blink he was unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it to the side. My eyes darted to his array of muscles and back to meet his playful stare. "I'm your model. Do whatever you wish with me."

For a moment, he just sat there exactly how he would in front of a room full of students. His face void of any emotion as he stared toward the ceiling clenching his angular jaw, his shoulders a tiny bit too tensed, one hand on his knee the other forearm resting on his thigh. He looked too... impassive. Too dispassionate.

I couldn't even bring myself to press the pencil to paper because I knew he could be passionate. I knew he could be responsive. In college those were the only expressions I was used to drawing. But now, I wanted more from him.

"I want to try something," I said, grabbing my hair-tie and throwing my hair into a loose ponytail. He was silent as I rifled through his coat and shirt to pick up his scarf. He eyed me warily when I approached him but there was that familiar spark of interest when I stood above him and folded the scarf. "Do you trust me?"

Without a hint of hesitation he gave me a sharp nod and allowed me to wrap the cotton scarf over his eyes. Already, when I stood back there was more than that impassive look to his face. His lips were slightly parted, the clench to his jaw was gone but his shoulder's were still tense; his posture was exactly the same. I felt empowered for some reason. I hadn't done anything to him, I'd barely touched him but I knew I could and he wouldn't be able to see it coming.

"Don't you love the mystery in a painting or a drawing?" I suddenly said taking a step back toward him.

"I didn't think a mystery could be as literal as a blindfold." He murmured and smiled.

"In a portrait, the mystery is always in the model's behaviour though isn't it?" I ran my finger tips along his shoulders and found a sense of satisfaction when the smile on his face dropped and his hands clenched over knees. "What relationship they had with the subject. Two strangers, two lovers. Especially during the renaissance; whether they shared a forbidden moment of intimacy and decided to immortalise it," My hands ran along the soft skin of his arms and along his chest, his heart beating a heavy tattoo against my fingers. "The stiffness of their shoulders; the flush to their cheeks." I couldn't stop myself from pressing my lips to both of his collarbones.

Without even realising it, I'd stepped directly between his legs, his head angled upwards so I could look down upon his beautiful face. I ran my hands up his neck, amazed how he hadn't touched me yet. He was giving me this moment of control and I was loving it. "I could draw you like this."

"Then why don't you?" He may not have touched me but his voice had lowered and his clear signs of arousal told me it wouldn't be long before he did.

"Because," I said teasing the corner of his lips with a brush of mine. "You could look so much better if I kissed you."

So I did, I gave him my all. I gave and received the most passionate of kisses, running my fingers through his silken hair and back over his strong shoulders. His groan sounded guttural; a groan that made me doubt my abilities to keep this going any longer. Resisting a man like Eddie Marshall was difficult enough but to have him like this, his arms desperately curling around my legs so I was leaning completely against him, I was putty in his hands.

And when I pried myself, reluctantly, from his hold I smiled. This was a painting. His swollen glistening lips, his hair a complete mess, the scarf had loosened and dropped to his shoulder and his cheeks flushed a colour only a selective mixture of paints could reproduce.

"There we go," I breathed. "I've deepened the mystery. Now I can draw you."

I turned my back to him and made a start to the easel. But, of course, his hand on my elbow stopped me. Not just that but he'd completely spun me around and captured my lips in yet another kiss that shattered my very reason to breathe.

I didn't even get to draw him. Not that I was complaining all that much because he'd stripped me naked and had his wicked way with me on his desk and then again in his bedroom all the while I was the one blindfolded.

"Not nice is it?" He teased pressing a kiss to my inner thigh.

By three in the morning I was still awake and indecisive about leaving... I mean, he left my apartment sometimes but that usually wasn't until dawn. I glanced up at Eddie's peaceful face, one of his arms wrapped around me whilst the other rested on his chest. I'll leave at dawn, I thought as I inhaled the soapy scent of his skin from our quick shower and moved the hair from his forehead. Maybe.

Which is what I so should have done. I should have left at dawn. Because at ten when I actually did wake up because of the doorbell ringing, I'd slipped from his hold, walked to his bedroom window and peaked out the curtains to see Debbie standing there with Chelsea by her side.

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Heh. Is it time yet? Who knows ;) Drop those comments; this was a fun chapter to write!