Kelly Lucille - Keeping Her

“Demon. I can’t.” But it was the most natural thing in the world for her arms to circle his neck, her legs to capture his waist and her nose to bury itself in his neck. “I have my art, and a show coming up. That should me my priority right now. What happens when you touch me is wonderful and exciting but I need to stop and take a breath. Think about what I‘m doing.”

That sounded like a horrible idea to Demon. “We can bring your supplies here. You can paint here for a few days.”

“Demon,” She laughed a little breathlessly, lifting her head from his neck and putting her hands on either side of his face to get his full attention. “I’m not a painter. See? We don’t even know each other.”

“All the more reason for you to stay so we can get to know each other.”

She huffed in exasperation. “You are the most stubborn...” She shook her head. “Let’s try it this way: I am going home now. I will talk to you in a few days. We will have a second date where we will actually converse, get to know each other. Dinner might be involved.” She leaned up and kissed him, smiling. “There is also a good chance for mind blowing sex.”

He harrumphed and placed her on her feet, rubbing his nose against hers. “I don’t want you to go.”

She kissed him full on the mouth and said succinctly “Tough.”

He growled and she headed for her car, her laughter trailing behind.

The phone rang as soon as she walked in her front door. She rushed ahead to pick up the receiver before the machine could pick up.

“Hello?”

“It’s Demon.” His voice was a hard growl on the phone making nerves dance up her spine.

“Yes?”

“I wanted to make sure you got home all right.”

She rolled her eyes. “I did.”

“Good.”

Silence.

“Was that all?”

“Dinner.” The word came out in a bark. Not remotely sounding like a question.

“What about dinner?”

“We can have that date tonight.”

She rolled her eyes. “No. Call me Friday.”

“Damn it Clytie! That’s too long.”

She laughed. “You know clinging is an unattractive quality in a man, as is whining. I’ll talk to you Friday. Bye.” Click.

After a shower and a change, Clytie went into her workroom and glanced around. Quite a few waxed bases in differing sizes had been started. A whole table of finished products waited for the last layer of resin to be applied then they would need weeks to cure. Encaustic was not a fast process, but she loved it, and it was just what she needed today. She changed quickly into her work clothes.

Unfortunately, she was not in the same mindset she had been when she began all the on going projects. She itched to begin something different. She grabbed a large plaque of bare white beeswax she had prepped weeks ago, this one about five feet by five feet. She started with a bold turquoise. One of the largest bases, she’d put off using it, waiting for inspiration to hit. Now she had something particular in mind. She set the wood base, melted wax and swirled colors, scraping away layers. From there she mixed and melted, coated and pressed until the abstract wash in her mind came to life.

Between drying layers she worked on other projects, using dental tools for the intricate details and filling in with color. She worked on pieces as small as 6 inches with the idea she would puzzle them together in a type of tile design. A few stand alones in 2-foot squares needed some finishing touches.

She lost the light and didn’t even notice she was squinting until it affected her color palette. She flipped the switch and washed the room in artificial light. She stopped to get a bite to eat as several things dried and only then realized her back ached and her fingers needed a rest. Several messages waited on her machine. She let the message light blink. Did some stretches and got back to work. Rarely did her art flow so smoothly.

It was several hours before she finished for the day. She yawned, rubbed tired eyes, and stretched aching muscles. She covered all the burners and flipped off switches. Her fingers shook a bit, and she had several superficial burns but she was happy. Most of the smaller pieces were done. The intricate tiny details of the tile collage had been exacting work but the result was more than worth the effort. In contrast, the big piece seemed to be some alien landscape. Even half-finished it was the best thing she’d ever done.

She winced, remembering the fight with Sarah and the harsh words between them. Too tired to think, she ignored the blinking answer machine in favor of a shower and sleep. She fell into bed and was out as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Sometime during the few hours remaining of dark she dreamed of big warm hands and a hard presence at her back. Warmth seeped into her aching back, and she moaned and burrowed closer. She breathed in and wanted to curl that masculine scent around her like a blanket. She sighed out a breath and swore lips caressed the back of her neck beneath her hair.

Clytie woke up the next afternoon with a smile on her face, until she stretched and every muscle in her body protested. Between Demon and her art, she had seriously overtaxed her muscles.

She convinced herself to get up by promising herself a soak in the tub. She chose the lavender bath salts for relaxation and dropped into water almost too hot for her skin. The wet heat made her think of Demons whirlpool tub, swimming pool size as opposed to hers that barely held enough water for her to fully submerge. Demon would never fit. She groaned, bent her knees, and dunked her whole head under water. No thinking about Demon.

She pulled herself up and slicked back her hair. On the other hand, Wow. Her hand palmed a breast as she remembered how he made her feel. She shook herself, reaching for the towel as she stood up. Time to get back to work before she did something stupid, like called Demon for hot monkey sex. Then she would never get anything done. Except Demon. Her body pulsed with the thought. Beyond tempted, she groaned shaking her will power back into place and standing up. She dried herself briskly then slathered on the lotion. She combed out her wet hair and dressed for another day of playing with hot wax.

On her way downstairs, she caught the message light on her answer machine again but kept ignoring it. She did not want to be any more tempted to call Demon, and she wasn’t ready to field questions from her family yet.

The week was long but productive. By midnight Thursday, she had worked like a dervish and finished all but the largest piece. At this point, she might be ready for a second show and come morning she would call and inform Marion at the studio. In the meantime, she had one more week before her first professional gallery showing. She breathed deep trying to still the butterflies that took flight when she thought of her showing. It was even worse now because she wasn’t sure if Sarah and the kids would still come. Did she want Sarah there?

If the fight had been strictly about Demon, she could deal with it. She didn’t like that Sarah had taken one look and rejected him but that could maybe be attributed to overprotective older sister. It was the judgments on the rest of her life that Clytie hated. Sarah had acted like only her opinion counted, and her opinion was that Clytie should continue to work for her and stop playing around with her art. It meant Sarah did not really see her and that hurt, a lot. She was the only sister she had left and one of her few good family connection but she was becoming as judgmental and closed minded as the rest of them.

She needed someone to talk to. Cassandra was the only one who might understand and she was probably sleeping about now. Tomorrow, she would call and talk to Cassandra tomorrow. As the other black sheep of the family, she would understand the situation. Clyties stomach growled insistently, reminding her, she had other concerns tonight.