My name is Ava Whisken and I am an artist. I paint, I draw, and I sculpt.
I'm well known for my work which is why I have an art gallery and museum space.
My work is known far and wide and between all creases and crevices of the earth.
My parents said I began creating things and seeing interest in painting and drawing when I was two.
In other words, I was born to do this. Now at 28 I am practically a celeb.
People pay to get listed to see my work so they can bid on it.
And yes, I'm that fucking good. My sculpting skills on the other hand are something I picked up in
college and since then I've been honing it to get better. People say that it's the best but to me
it's not enough. It's rough, it's impractical, it's amateur. I want Greek. I want my work to be
remembered thousands of years from now and people will know who I am. That I was that bitch who created
perfection. And despite telling my manager that my sculptures weren't public ready and that I needed
to do more work, they blatantly ignored my request. And yes, I know I can oversee things and have them
removed on a whim. But I love feedback and I also love drama. They are my weaknesses. I love hearing
people fawn over my work. It gives me pleasure. It also lets me know that they can be wowed some more,
that they can drool over my work and I can have them eating out of the palm of my hand if I perfect my work.
I know when my work is perfect. I get calls and bids before my work is even fucking displayed.
My drawings and paintings, yes. My sculptures, ah, not so much. At this moment, I'm standing at the
center of Dante's Imperial Museum, the one I am part owner of, waiting for my work to be revealed.
At least 100 listed guests are waiting to bid on my work. Some have already purchased behind the curtain
and the unlucky ones haven't the slightest clue. My manager begins speaking and she's going on about
how grateful she is to be a part of this work. She then gabs on about nonsensical things I don't care for.
I am here, standing three feet away and smiling like a goddamn child. I should be at my gallery trying
to perfect my sculptures but here I am, an esteemed guest at my own event. My manager says it's a must
that I attend. But really, it's not. She just wants the clout and I give her that, but this shit is tiring.
At the last two events, I was out of town. Everything, including the stands my sculptures were on,
had been sold. I am not needed. But as a respectful artist, I smile and be a nice girl. My manager lifts her glass.
Cheers and I hope you don't leave empty-handed. Everyone lifts their champagne glasses and I follow.
I haven't the slightest clue what she just said. And now she continues. I would like to introduce the artist herself,
Ava Wiscan, to do the first unveiling. I smile and step into the spotlight. Thanks everyone for coming.
It is always a pleasure to see my supporters and how much you love my work. Without you,
I would be poor. But truly, you are my inspiration. Thank you. This is why I want to present you with my most recent painting.
I rip the sheet off. This one is called Where the Eyes Can't See. Everyone begins clapping. My manager snaps her fingers and the rest of my covered paintings, drawings and sculptures are revealed.
There's a round of applause followed by light chatter. Everyone has dispersed, hungry for their next addiction and addition to their home.
I'm making my way around the room speaking with potential buyers and admirers when one of my sculptures gives me pause.
It's hideous. Good Lord. How didn't I see this? What the fuck is this shit? The symmetry of the face is off. It's really off. This shouldn't be here. What if I shove it to the floor? Maybe someone has purchased it already. No worries. I'll refund them.
Lovely, isn't it? I'm about to say some of the worst things about the sculpture. But when I turn to face the voice, I stop. I literally stopped myself with my mouth still gaping open.
If angels were playing harps right now, they would be playing it right over this man's shoulders. Two words. Caches. Spiel.
Hello, Ms. Wiskon. I snap my mouth shut to avoid looking like a complete idiot and stare at him. Caches Spiel is a supermodel. One of the best. He is also my longtime crush.
Six years ago, back when I was in my final year of college, a good friend of mine invited me to a fashion show. They had connections and since I began gaining some recognition for my work, tagging me along hadn't seemed like a bad idea.
There at the show, I first saw Cassius. When he graced the runway and looked like something ethereal and out of some mythical book, I knew I had to use him as inspiration. He had everything fitting to an ideal man. His jawline, the hooded eyes, the Roman nose and that fucking stubble across his chin and cheeks undid me.
After that day, I became obsessed. I became his stalker. It was an unhealthy obsession with his features and the amber of his smooth skin. What two creatures could form that? My colleague introduced us after the show, but it had been so short I wouldn't believe he would remember me now. That was six fucking years ago.
I'm sorry, was I interrupting something?
I peer up at him. That motherfucking jawline.
Oh no, I was just about to shove this over.
He's taken aback and I love it. Cassius laughs.
How funny.
No, I'm serious.
I lift my hand and touch the sculpture, giving it a push. It falls off the stand with a loud clatter of stone and clay. Gasps drown the room, followed by a score of people rushing to the shambled pieces on the floor. Lights are flashing, cameras are clicking, and now, my manager is in front of me.
What the hell, Ava?
I face her bored.
I didn't like it.
Ava?
Will you excuse me?
I step away from the crowded mess and head over to the cheese table. I'm famished as fuck. As everyone scrambles to bid for the destroyed piece like monkeys in a zoo, I on the other hand, can't get enough of these cheese pieces.
Hmm. I turn around, stuffing one more in my mouth and find Cassius making his way over to me. To be honest, I don't know how to react to this guy. For years, I've been wanting something like this to happen and I've just ruined it with my OCD. He stops in front of me and smiles.
Is the cheese that good?
I nod. He points over his shoulder.
What was that about?
I told you I didn't like it.
Then, why is it here on display?
I take a wine glass from a passing waiter and sip some.
You know when you've just finished a piece and you let it rest for two days or maybe a week and come back for another perspective?
Mm-hmm.
Well, this is it.
He tilts his beautiful head.
I see.
Then he holds out his hand.
I'm Cassius Spiel.
I know who you are.
I'm sure you do. You've probably seen my face plastered on billboards and magazines.
No.
I shake my head.
Really?
I've met you before.
He crosses his toned arms across his chest. The way they bulge is such a fucking turn on. How can a guy this good looking and smooth be allowed to walk in public? This is a crime.
Is that so?
Yes.
Care to tell?
It's not that important.
I sigh, glancing across the room. The damn thing is back on the stand with pieces of its face and arms missing. Like who would still buy that mess? People are pathetic. They will buy anything as long as it's for sale.
So what brings you here, Mr. Spiel?
You.
I blink up at him.
Me?
I'm here for a little over a week for some shooting, but I'm really interested in you.
And why would that be?
My manager appears and she has a much brighter smile than before.
Ava.
I am still eyeing Cassius waiting for him to respond, but he is distracted by my manager.
Ava.
I'm speaking, Catherine.
I narrow my eyes at Cassius.
And why would that be?
I repeat.
Ava. Ava, there's been...
What?
Despite the mishap, we were still able to sell. Apparently it's worth more broken than whole.
I face her.
It wasn't a mishap. I intentionally pushed it. And why the fuck would I care if it's sold?
Go bore someone else with those metrics.
Catherine folds her lips and walks away.
Cassius rubs the stubble on his cheek, seeming a bit embarrassed at the situation.
Are you always this mean?
Yes.
Okay.
He smirks.
Anyway, what was I saying?
How you know me.
I laugh.
Good one.
This man oozes testosterone and standing with him is not making things easy for me.
I may be standing straight, but my insides are wobbly and I'm tensing my pussy every goddamn second to stop the pulse between my legs.
I want you to paint me.
Is that so?
In another quantum realm I'm backflipping. You just can't see it.
Yes.
Yes. Yes. Jesus, yes.
How can something like this fall so easily into my hands?
Cassius Spiel wants me to paint him. Me, I'll be damned if I let this pass me by.
I want it done before I get back. As soon as possible.
Hmm. You said you're here for a week.
Ten days. Well, it's now nine.
What kind of painting?
Full body, black and white.
Hmm.
Is that a yes?
I'd already said yes the moment he asked. I just like to get a kick out of things. Plus the longer I can hold him in a conversation, the more I can admire his handsome face.
This might be a once in a lifetime opportunity for a close-up. I might just be able to use real life features for sculpting rather than internet photos.
Depending on the complexity of things, it might take longer than nine days.
I say.
You may not be able to take it with you.
That's fine. As long as I start the process.
Great. Well, you can chat with my manager and I'll see if she can clear my schedule for tomorrow to get things started.
Wow.
What?
Special treatment for me. I'm honored. Did you just say clear your schedule?
I roll my eyes.
Given the nature of your job, I make special arrangements for certain clients.
That's nice to hear.
Yup.
You look stunning by the way.
Thank you.
I'm wearing a red off-shoulder sequined dress with a slip as high as my potheaded uncle.
Cassius peers at me and this is where it becomes excruciatingly painful to look him in his deep blue eyes.
He isn't saying anything just staring at me as if I'm some piece of art.
His eyes are now on my lips and before I know it I'm folding them, thinking there's something on it.
Like cheese. Makeup. Tissue. Something.
So, do you always break things when you don't like it?
If I have to then yes.
Interesting.
How?
I'm finally getting to meet the real Ava Wiscan and I like what I'm seeing.
Really now?
Yes. There's a fire in you and I'm not afraid to stoke it. If... you know what I mean.
Cassius peers down at me his blue eyes drowning mine.
I know he expects me to say something but I don't. He seems like the kind of guy to like fiery women.
Had he preferred them obedient or docile, he would have left me after I shoved the sculpture.
No sane guy would like a woman who draws too much attention to herself and is mean.
Hmm.
I turn and take another square of cheese. Cassius takes it from my hand.
Let me.
I stare at him. He lifts the cheese and hovers it close to my lips.
You have a beautiful mouth.
When he inches the cheese closer I open my mouth for him.
God, I can't believe I just did that. What is he? A sex god. I just taken food from a stranger. And in public.
What if they'd gotten a picture of that? Miss Hans could have been dirty and I just ate from them.
What is wrong with me? Am I that deeply affected by him?
Well, my panty liners can attest to that. I want him to feed me again.
Cassius smirks knowing damn well what I'm thinking.
Mr. Speel.
Cassius faces the guy who interrupted our staring competition.
Yes. Your transport is here.
Great. I'll be out shortly.
Wait, he's leaving? No, I don't want him to leave as yet.
Mrs. Wiskum.
Call me Ava. Are you leaving already?
I'm afraid I have another engagement. However, we'll see each other again.
Cassius slips a card from his suit jacket and hands me it.
Have your manager call me.
Yes, absolutely.
When he walks off I'm left feeling empty. Useless. As if I hadn't accomplished anything today.
Why do I feel so incomplete? Fuck. I need to get off. Now.
Catherine.
My manager rushes towards me.
Yes, Ava. Is something wrong?
I slap Cassius's card in her hand.
Call him and have my schedule cleared for whichever date he chooses.
But...
I glare at her.
Yes, Ava.
Now get me a ride. I need to get out of here. I have some business to deal with.
Yes, yes, Ava.
Good. I just hope I can make it to my apartment without getting myself off in my ride.
Cassius Spiehl has just done it.
He has no idea of the can of worms he's just opened.
And now there's no going back.
Not for me and definitely not for him.