Heat of a Blue Flame by 107yearoldvirgin.pdf

Heat of a Blue Flame by 107yearoldvirgin

http://107yearoldvirgin.blogspot.com/?zx=fd2063df58d825dd

An artist who cannot feel. A subject that fights not to. An erotic tale of love, loss and the intense

yearning to be consumed. AH/M for erotic themes.

Chapter 1

BPOV

The house was bigger than I expected, being that it was supposed to be a photography studio. I'd

beentodifferentlocationstoattendshootsbeforesomeofthemoutsidesomeinoldloftsorin

abandoned warehouses. The majority of them were in actual studios. But this place looked like an

old Victorian as it sat off the side of the road. It was settled back along a rather extensive tree lined

driveway that was completely encased by leaning oaks, their branches appearing to reach over the

top of my car, scratching lightly across the roof as I drove carefully towards the towering frame.

It looked like it had been restored recently, the paint fresh and the grounds impeccably landscaped.

As I parked my car, I glanced towards the back of the house, not surprised at all to see that the land

extended a good mile into the woods behind an overgrown backyard. It was quite the contrast to the

well kept front lawn.

Looks like this guy liked to do a lot of those outside field pictures. For weddings? Maybe even bands.

I groaned wondering if he had a brick wall with random graffiti around the back of the house. Or

some abandoned train tracks.

The entire scenario had been a bit strange to begin with. I had been in the grocery store, loading up

my cart with food for the week when I'd heard this soft feminine voice calling to me from my left. I

usually don't make eye contact or pay attention to people around me; it just makes it easier to get in

and out of the grocery store without being followed down an aisle or being hit on at the meat

counter.

That sounds conceited, even to me.

WhatImeanisthatawomanmyagewithoutaweddingringonherfingertendstogetmore

attention in this town than she's comfortable with.

So, when I'd turned and seen this stunning redhead grinning at me, I'd been confused. I mean, I'd

neverbeenhitonbyawomanbefore

"Hi," she'd sort of sung melodically as she moved toward me.

I had kind of given her the death stare, wondering what the hell she'd been so interested in

approaching me for.

She'd laughed a little and strolled over quickly; adjusting the bag of bread she had in her hands to

extendoneingreetingImsorryIdidntmeantostartleyouMynameisTanya

I'd taken her hand reluctantly. "Bella."

"Bella," she'd said and smiled a little, like she approved of the way my name sounded coming from

hermouthThisisgoingtosoundreallyweirdbutdoyoumodel?

I'd laughed, knowing that this pretentious conversation had likely happened in this aisle before. "No.

ImeanyesButnotinthewayyourethinking. I mean, clearly I'm too short to runway." I'd pointed

at my little legs and shrugged. "I've done a couple of hair shows in college. Sat for a few sessions with

collegefriendsIveevendonesomefreelanceworkwithfriendsoffriendsbutImnotyou

knowmodelmaterialMyhandssortofrestedonmyhipsasIspokeandIknewthatshe

understood what I meant.

I wasn't exactly tall and emaciated.

"I think you're kind of perfect for a project that I'm scouting for," she'd said matter-of-factly. "It pays

two thousand a week. Maybe two months long? You'd be under contract and it would be at all hours,

but the photographer is amazing and he's doing a new collection to be shown in Seattle. He's looking

foronesubjectandIthinkyoureher

"Really?" I scoffed. "What are the qualifications? Being average?"

Her eyes had kind of wavered a little before she shrugged. "When you put it that way it sounds a

little negative. He wants someone that wouldn't be the Public's definition of perfect and beautiful."

Thankfully, I wasn't offended.

And I needed the extra money.

So, I'd accepted. And now I was standing in the driveway of a man whose name I hadn't even gotten

from Tanya. Carefully, I made my way to the front door and glanced at the name plate secured above

the doorbell.

~Masen~

~Established 1901~

Thatwouldexplainthehouse

I knocked and waited, looking at the wrap around porch and swing that was shifting slightly with the

breeze. There were footsteps and I heard the door open with a groan before Tanya appeared in the

opening.

"Bella, you made it." She smiled sweetly and stepped back to allow me access to the foyer.

"Yeah, it wasn't as hard to find as I thought it would be." I looked around for a place to hang my

purse, hoping not to look nervous.

Because I wasn't.

"I'll take it," Tanya called and extended her hand. After she'd settled my things, she led me into a

grand parlor with refinished wooden floors that gleamed under the rays of sunlight that filtered

through the gossamer curtains. "Edward will be out in a moment, he's just finishing up a call. Make

yourself at home?"

The last sentence struck me as odd, given that she seemed uncertain of my comfort. I hoped I wasn't

giving off an air of uncertainty. She walked away, her shiny black heels clicking along the wooden

flooring as she went. My eyes watched her form as it moved away from me and I couldn't help but

admireitShewastallandthinbutcurvyshehadanassndshewaswearingherhairuptoday

red curls piled atop her head and her black dress cinched at the waist, making her appear as if she

werefromanothertimeasecretaryfromtheFortiesorsomething

I shook my head and rolled my eyes. I watched too much Mad Men.

The light filtering in through the windows was brightening the room around the edges, showing the

cracks in the corners of the walls, near the ceiling. I moved slowly, my head tilted up to look over the

delicate crown molding and the intricate details of the wood.

Sunlight hit the dust motes and they danced just beyond the curtains like school children at recess,

aimless and frenzied.

Wandering over to the shelves that lined the room, I ran my fingers along the spines of some of the

many books there, feeling the worn edges and concentrating on the feel of the embossed letters as

my fingertips made contact with each one. It was an extensive collection and I wondered exactly how

long it had taken to accumulate such a large library.

My concentration was so fixed that I didn't hear anyone enter the room. And I probably wouldn't

have noticed that anyone had joined me if it weren't for the familiar sound of a camera clicking to

take a picture.

I turned suddenly, my hand flying to my chest and my eyes falling on the face of a man, sitting cross

legged with a camera in his lap on the floor. He blinked once, not speaking and looked back down

into the view finder. Another click.

I must have looked stunned, staring down at him as he adjusted his lens.

"Do you like my books?" he murmured as he settled the camera again, turning the crank to advance

the film.

My eyes flicked back up to the wall of literature and I nodded.

The camera clicked again.

Snapping my head back down to him, I cocked a brow. "Hi. I'm Bella." The sarcasm was thick, but I'd

never been so shaken by someone.

"I know who you are," he responded quietly, letting the camera click away one frame after another,

his long fingers nimble and graceful, and his head leaning forward, locks of hair falling into his eyes as

he gazed into the viewer.

After a moment, he placed the camera on the floor next to him and leaned back to settle his palms

against the floor. His legs extended and he sighed, letting his head fall to one side to appraise me. His

eyes squinted as they roamed my face and dropped across my chest, down my legs and to my feet.

Now I was nervous, my fourth finger picking at my thumbnail and my lower teeth working away at

my upper lip. He was incredibly attractive. And young. I was mesmerized by his calm demeanor, the

way he was looking at me like I was some sort of subject instead of a person. Like he was already

working out in his mind how he wanted to use me.

His black t-shirt stretched across his chest, and his distressed jeans hung loosely around his waist. I

watched as he wiggled his toes a little, his bare feet long and pale against the hardwood. But mostly I

was enamored with his face. Angular features surrounding kind eyes and a head full of hair that

desperately needed to be tamed.

In one fluid movement he was on his feet, walking towards me. I tensed as he walked behind me and

his fingers trailed lightly over the ends of my hair hanging across my back.

"Have you posed nude before?" he inquired.

"Yes."

"Good." His feet made no sound as he came to rest behind me. "Do you have any tattoos?"

"No." I shook my head and kept my eyes forward, suddenly unsure of what was transpiring.

Wouldyouobjecttoanybodymodification?Piercingtattoosetcetera?

Turning abruptly, I looked up into his face to see if he was being serious. His eyes were questioning,

his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he leaned against the books.

"I'm sorry; I won't do that for a shoot." I desperately hoped I was coming across as confident.

He tipped his head to the side again and looked thoughtful. Suddenly, a small smile pulled at the

corner of his mouth. "That's what I wanted to hear. You should never let someone take advantage of

you like that."

I blinked, shocked at his revelation.

Butareyouokaywithhairchangesmakeupnomakeupbodypaintoilsanythingelselike

that?" His gaze fixed on my mouth as my teeth continued to worry my lip.

"Yes."

The sound of Tanya's heels clicking along the floor grabbed my attention and I turned to face her

while she made her way towards us with a tray of drinks in her hand. "So?" She asked, looking over

my shoulder at Edward.

"Good work," was all he offered. Tanya handed us both drinks and smiled brightly, clearly pleased

that Edward approved. And just as soon as she appeared, she was gone.

I took a tentative sip of the drink and sighed. Lemonade. There were little blueberries floating around

in the ice cubes and a bitter heat that settled across my tongue.

"Vodka," Edward said simply. He moved around me to pick up his camera from the floor. "We start

tomorrow at noon." And with that, he walked straight out of the room and into the backyard.

The emptiness of the parlor made me uncomfortable, so I carried my drink back towards the foyer,

looking for any sign of Tanya. The sound of her voice came tinkling out of a room to my left and I

stood outside of the doorway as she finished up her call. Once I heard her say goodbye, I knocked on

the door and she called me in. It was an office and she was leaning across her desk, turning off her

computer when I stepped inside. Thousands of pictures were tacked to the walls and littered across

the floor in ramshackle piles.

And three were in frames on her desk.

Tanya smiled and stood up straight. "So, it went well. He likes you. You'll be here at noon

tomorrow?"

I glanced back down at her pictures and then up at her face. "Yes. I'll be here."

She extended her hand towards me to usher me back to the front door. With my purse in hand, I left

the house, feeling thoroughly confused and wondering exactly what I had gotten myself into. There

was so little explanation. So little was known about what was expected of me. I wasn't even sure

what I was supposed to bring tomorrow.

As I cleared the porch and rounded the side of the house to my car, I glanced back over my shoulder

to see Edward standing in the yard, his feet covered in dirt and his hands shoved in his pockets. The

distinct sound of a camera clicking caught my attention and I dropped my eyes, looking forward

again.

A self portrait.

Like crazy ass Van Gogh. Except Edward still had both of his ears.

ndyetitwasoddlybeautifulEvenfromthesmallglimpseIdgottenhelookedhauntedandit

shook me a little, settling under my skin as I drove away.

Bellababydontyouhavetogetup?JaspersvoicecutthroughmydreamladenfogandIrolled

over to rest my head on his knees as he perched on the edge of the bed. His hand rested against my

cheek and I smiled, nuzzling my nose against his knee. "Come on," he said with a chuckle. "I brought

you some tea."

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