It's been a day and a half since I've last spoken to Ava, and I don't think she'll ever call.
Either that or she has completely forgotten about me.
Regrettably, I didn't take her number. I can ask my assistant to fetch me a number for her,
but I'm sure it's her manager's number.
Don, I say to my assistant.
Yes, sir?
Get me a number for Ava Wiscan.
We are walking to my assigned vehicle to go back to the hotel after a shoot.
I don't have anything planned for the rest of the evening,
and if I have to spend my entire afternoon hunting for Ava's number, then so be it.
I need to get that painting done before I head back home,
that and the fact that I want to at least enjoy this woman's company.
Ava Wiscan is not a force to reckon with. She is witty, carefree, and a fucking boss.
God, if only I could wrap my fist around that long brunette hair and have my way with her.
My life would be complete.
When I found out that some of my shoots would be done in her city, I knew I had to find her.
I have been crushing on Ava since our first encounter six years ago,
and though the conversation had been short, she'd left a mark on me.
When her friend introduced us, I couldn't stop staring.
Usually, it was the other way around.
Women would swoon and be all over me like a fucking fly with meat.
Ava, on the other hand, had shook my hand and diverted her attention elsewhere.
She did steal a few glances back at me, but not as much attention as I gave her.
Our brief encounter had been cut off when I'd been summoned by my manager.
I should have been able to get her number, but the guy who knew her friend was just
a colleague I met at the show. We were chilling at the event,
and had never gotten the time to exchange digits so I couldn't ask them for Ava's number.
But as time passed, and she rose to fame, it became awkward to get in touch.
As a dude with my stature, you would think that I can approach any woman and get through,
and that might be the case, but I just had the feeling I couldn't do that with Ava Wiscan.
I've kept tabs on her throughout the years, and one thing I've learned is that she is an
enigmatic soul, she doesn't date, she is never seen with a guy and she focuses solely on her work.
If she does date, she sure as fuck keeps it under wraps.
I've just arrived at the hotel and heading for the elevator to my room,
when my phone buzzes with an unnamed number. I wait for the elevator to close before answering.
I answer, unnamed numbers are usually from calls I personally gave my card to.
There is a card for my assistant and a card for me, so if anyone called me on my phone,
I single-handedly gave them the number. Hello, this is Sheila Friday. I'm calling on
behalf of Ava Wiscan. Yes, my heart flutters and a smile plays across my lips as I step out of the
elevator. We understand that you requested to have your portrait painted. I would like to set up
the earliest date for you to get started. Sure. Is it me or does the woman on the other line sound
different? It didn't sound like, um, what was her name again? Catherine. Great. How soon would you
like to come in to get things started? I take a seat on the couch inside my room. How about now?
Sheila stumbles for a second and then clears her throat. I will check to see if Ms.
Wiscan is available today and get back to you. If not, will tomorrow morning be good? 10 o'clock?
Sure. Okay, well, I'll be in touch with you shortly. I end the call and relax back onto the
couch. My day has just changed for the better. In a matter of minutes, Sheila returns the call and
confirms an open space for three o'clock. I've never been this excited about any fucking thing
than this in a long while. I tell my assistant to take the day off, or in other words, to fuck off
and head into the shower. At 10 minutes to three, I'm standing at Ava Wiscan's gate. Her house is
huge. Initially, I thought we would have met at one of her many galleries, but her inviting me to
her home was something else. The big black gate doors open, stopping a quarter way and I slip
inside. A dark-skinned woman is standing at the front door of this massive two-story house.
She gives me a small wave and patiently waits until I'm standing close enough to shake her hand.
Hello again. I'm Sheila Friday, Ms. Wiscan's manager. My apologies. I hope the walk-in
side wasn't too long. No, not at all. Good. Follow me. If I ever thought the outside was amazing,
I need to think again. Ava's home is like a walk-in museum. There are paintings and sculptures
filling spaces you would never think of. This main room alone is worth millions, given her value.
Her home is decorated with gray furniture to match the white walls and decals.
Sheila takes me down a hallway where there is another set of drawings lining the walls.
This woman is fucking amazing. Beautiful, isn't it? Sheila says when I stop to admire one.
Priceless. This one is one of her first major drawings back in high school. Wow. Come along.
We don't want to keep Ms. Wiscan waiting. That indeed. Sheila pushes a double door,
introducing me to Ava's studio. It's white, bright and pristine, but also has flecks of
color splashed on the plastic flooring. I guess this is where all the magic happens.
When Ava glances away from her artboard and sees me, there's no expression in her eyes.
Her face is neutral. What if insisting that I see her now had pissed her off?
Ms. Wiscan, Mr. U— Thank you, Sheila. You can leave now.
Just before Sheila makes it to the door, Ava adds,
That is all for the day. You can leave. Lock up when you leave.
She nods. Thank you, Ms. Wiscan.
The moment Sheila exits, Ava glides across the room and locks the door. I lift a brow.
Don't get any ideas. I have staff around my house and I prefer they knock than waltz in.
Don't they usually knock? They do, but you can never know if someone decides to be outside
themselves today. I smile. So, Mr. Spiel. Call me Cassius.
Cassius? Is that what you plan on wearing for your portrait?
Yes. I'm wearing a gray loose linen shirt and matching drawstring pants.
Is there a problem? Nope.
She lifts a black stool and I take it from her.
Put it over there. She commands. And what position would you prefer?
Sitting. Is that a question or an answer?
What do you think? I want the best possible, so whatever she chooses, I'm going with it.
I'm not the one. You're the expert here, Ava. She eyes me.
Sitting. Good. Then I'll be sitting.
Ava moves over to the large easel. I figure that Sheila has briefed you on the expectations,
cost and deliverables. I nod. She did quite the job of that over the phone.
Excellent. Speaking of Sheila, what happened to Catherine?
She was fired. I know it's none of my...
The bitch thought her opinions mattered over mine. She didn't call you on purpose.
Oh, I glance around the room. And you got a replacement already?
Every day I receive job applications. It's not difficult to secure a replacement in less than
24 hours. Wow. She adjusts the easel.
Sit. Yes, madam. I take a seat on the stool. Anything else?
Ava moves in front of me, and for some time she is back and forth between the easel and me,
probably to get the right angle. Would it be too late to ask for a drawing instead of a painting?
She peers at me. No, I haven't started as yet. But it would change the invoice in all associated
costs. Well, do what is necessary. I'd prefer a black and white drawing.
Her eyes grow hooded. Anything else you would like to add before I get started?
No. Okay. She exhales a breath. What is your pose?
I do a couple of poses in front of her until I'm satisfied with my body tilted forward.
My fingers loosely clasped, and my elbows perched to top my knees.
Good. She moves across the room and picks up a camera.
I'll need to capture. Cashes. Sorry, I forgot to loosen more buttons. I want my chest showing and
my jewelry. Okay, fine. But can you please choose your position and stay in it for at least five
minutes? I smile. I can try. After a goddamn minute, I'm beginning to regret my choice,
either that or I'm restless. As Ava moves around the room taking photos of my pose from different
angles, I can't help but stare. She is a beautiful soul and talented, and though she's wearing a
tube top and parachute pants with an apron, she looks gorgeous. She finally sets the camera down
and heads back to the easel. Can I move now? No, I need to get an outline. Her pencil begins
moving across the board. I'm not trying to punish you. I'm only trying to get the shadows for the
background before the external light changes the room. Do your thing. After a few good minutes,
Ava approaches me and tilts my chin upwards. She heads back to the easel and in between,
she adjusts my pose to suit and takes more photos. You can relax now. She finally says,
I exhale a breath and stretch my back. Are you always this tense? I am working. I have to be
focused. But even as I'm speaking with her, she is sketching. I leave her in silence for a few
minutes, checking my phone for new messages and calls. I even returned one, speaking at the far
end of the room to not disturb her. By the time I get back to the stool, Ava is checking through
her camera. So are you really not going to tell me where you know me from? I say, twisting to meter.
She glances up at me and then down at the camera screen. No. Okay, have it your way.
She takes something like a memory chip from the camera and slips it in into her laptop.
What do you know about April 19th, Zuma fashion show? Ava slowly looks up from her laptop and
her eyes meet. She keeps her stare, making me smile. What about it? Is that where you know me from?
Because that is how I first met you, Ms. Ava Wiskon.
She stands, taking up her tablet this time. She must have transferred the photos there for
ease of access. Interesting. What's so interesting? You remembered.
Of course I did. How can I miss a face like yours? A face like mine? Caches. We barely spoke.
We met for less than two minutes. But you left a lasting mark. How? I grin.
Seeing her this curious is just the icing on the cake. This woman has no idea how much she
affects me, how many times I've stalked her photos and her work and watched the lives of her events
across the world. Some would call it being obsessed, but I like to think of it as being intrigued.
I'd been wearing an earring of a cross and you reached up and fixed it, said it was...
Upside it down? She finishes. Yes. She moves to the easel and sits.
I don't like things out of place. Because you're a perfectionist. It's also the
reason why you shoved that sculpture over. If you put it that way. Ava sets the tablet on her lap.
So if you knew who I was all the time, why now? There's always the right time for everything.
So this drawing you want me to do is all part of your elaborate plan to meet up with me?
I shake my head. No. I want you to draw me. I have every intention of paying you and hanging
your piece of work at my place. So. I stand. I want to get to know you Ava. It's been too long.
My heart is rapidly beating and this has never happened before. I'm usually cool with women,
not the least intimidated by them. But her... Ava Whisken. She has me questioning my words,
my actions, every fucking thing. She's unpredictable, one wrong move and she can
send me off with no drawing and no access to her heart. What makes you think I want to get to know
you? You fired your manager for me and you invited me to your home. If that doesn't tell me that
you're a little interested then... My manager was incompetent. Given your schedule it would be easier
to accommodate you as soon as possible. And inviting you to my home is because I'm having my gallery
remodeled. You have more than one. She looks away. So why am I here Ava? I told you. Tell me the truth.
I step closer to her. We are both adults. Her eyes drift downwards towards my erection,
then she squints up at me. Is that what you do? Do you try to seduce your clients to get a better
price? I'm disappointed. I step away from her. Now can you do me a favor and sit on the stool so
I can finish doing what I'm getting paid to do? Fuck. I take a seat on the stool. Good boy.
She begins scratching again at the easel and I'm lost for words. She doesn't want me. How could
I read all of this wrong? Maybe I'm so fucking accustomed to these basic women that I couldn't
see this one coming. Take off your shirt. I'm sorry what? Take off your shirt.
I don't hesitate and do as she says. She rubs behind her neck. It's for reference purposes.
Oh, okay. She leaves the easel and reaches for the camera again. Ava is snapping so many photos.
I don't see why she would need all of those. Is this part of- Yes. Lift your arms.
I obey her. Do you feel uncomfortable? I shake my head. No. She can do as she pleases.
As long as she stays this close and I can continue to smell her.
Good. Now take off your pants. I- She tilts her head. Okay. I strip my pants and send them flying
across the room. Whatever game she's playing, I'm all in. I'm fucking in. Do you want me to take
off the boxers too? She nods. I'm now sitting on a fucking stool naked as I was born and this
beautiful woman is taking a million and one photos of me. Anything else? No. You're perfect as is.
She takes two steps away from me, clicks the camera twice more,
and then sets it down on the stool behind the easel. I'm going to sculpt you. I'm going to use your
body as a marker for my future work. I will need your permission. Uh, what the fuck? I can draw
you for free but you'll have to give me exclusive rights to sculpt you for the next five years.
I approach her. My cock is fucking hard from sitting there and being a martyr for her,
and she has no idea how far I will go for her to let me have my way with her.
Ava is silent but her chest is moving at an unsteady rate. Done. Her eyes widen. As long as you
do something for me. I don't negotiate well. I move closer. Why don't you date? She exhales a breath.
I prefer my work over a man's company. Do you fuck? Sometimes. When was your last?
Why is any of that your- Do you want to fuck now? She remains silent. Ava.
Yes. I pull her against me. I'll be damned if I let this woman out of my sight and not have
my way with her. She breaks the embrace, slipping the apron over her head. I yank her pants down,
savoring the silky smoothness of her legs. She's stunning. Fucking amazing.
Get on the stool. She commands and usually I do the talking but I get it. I get it that she loves
to be in control. And I'm loving it. I settle on the black stool and watch as she relieves herself
of her tube top and panties. A breath escapes me. This woman is nothing compared to anyone or
anything. She's a fucking goddess. She makes her way towards me and I couldn't help but reach out
to touch her, feel her, grab her. A short breath escapes her when I yank her onto me. Ava slides
on top of my legs, wraps her arms around me and mounts me like a motherfucking horse. She is tight,
so goddamn tight that I can feel everything. Every fucking thing. She buries her face into my neck
and begins bouncing, her sweet sweet pussy tightening around me with every dip. She's
rotating her hips spelling fucking letters. God. I moan her name out loud and she loosens her arms
around me and arches her back. Her nipples are erect, hard and straight for the taking. I cover
my mouth over it, sucking it in like it's my last fucking meal. I squeeze her ass making sure I'm as
fucking deep as I can be in her. Hearing her soft moans is sending me off the edge. I switch to the
other nipple, caressing it with the tip of my tongue. So pink. So soft. She begins bouncing again,
this time faster and heavier. She's on the edge. I can feel it. I can feel the built-up tension
inside her. She grips onto my shoulders, clawing her nails into my back. I move in sync with her,
feeling my cock on the edge of release and if she keeps this up squeezing and pulsating her sweet
pussy around me like this then I'll- Ava yells out loud, pounding onto me and nursing my dick.
My mouth and tongue are no longer a match for the speed at which her breast bounce.
I'm like a dog in heat trying to catch up with her pace. Shit. Her pussy clenches around my cock
and I burst inside her. I steady her, hugging her with all my strength. I can't let go. I don't
want to let go. And even while I come inside her she's still milking me for everything I fucking
got. She's the devil and I'm in love. Ava kisses me and pulls away and when she attempts to free
herself from my grasp I don't allow it. But when she fights again, I let her go. She climbs off of
me and reaches for her pants. My semen is sliding down her thighs and I'm pissed. I don't know why
I'm angry but I'm fucking pissed. She slips on her tube top and then her pants. All I can see is the
remnants of my cum seeping through the pants. Fucking hell. Ava heads back to the easel and
begins scratching at the pad again. That'll be all Mr. Spill. You can go. I have everything I need.
What the fuck? I stand butt naked. Ava. I'll be in contact with you over the period that you're here.
I gather my belongings and put them on and thank you. For what? For everything. She winks at me
making me smile. I make it to the door and she stops me. Wait. I'm thinking she's looking for
round two but she heads over to her desk, pulls a drawer and slips out a booklet. She hands it to me.
I would need you to sign this contract before you go giving me exclusive rights to sculpt your body.
I glance down at the document at then at her. You can use the table over there if you would
like to read it. Wow. I peer at her. Do you need a pen? Do you want me to use my dick?
She smiles. You can if you want to. I grin. If I ever thought soulmates weren't real then now is
the right time to start believing again because Ava Wiscan is now my fucking heart.
Hey Raiders. You have met the end of this two-part episode Art Gallery. Stay tuned. Bye.