Enticing An Angel (8 page)

Melanie closed her eyes to slits, and Michael
smiled broadly at her odd expression.

"Relax, Dancy Girl. I may or may not be
falling in love, but at that particular moment, I was just admiring
your beauty and enjoying the moment; like appreciating a fine
painting."

"Hmm," she said to him as a smile returned to
her face. "All right, Mr. Angel. I will let you off this one
time."

"Actually, I believe you're the one that
needs to get off."

"Ahh," she cried out with a laugh as he moved
his hips, and she was forced to slide to the side. Michael stood
and adjusted his pants while Melanie stood, straightened out her
skirt and examined the area for evidence of their actions.
Appearing pleased, she grabbed her gloves, took Michael's hand, and
led him back down the stairs.

Amber and Dagger were waiting for them, one
on each side of the entryway to the stairs, and as Melanie passed
without acknowledging them, Amber held up her hand and dangled a
pair of panties. Melanie grabbed them without slowing her gait and
uttered a casual, "Thank you."

Without another word, the foursome headed
back to the Rave.

Melanie awoke early in the morning. She had
slept well, but her eyes opened on their own, and she was
wide-awake in a matter of seconds. Turning to Michael, she watched
him sleep for a minute. Her head cocked one way and then another
before resting comfortably on the pillow. Michal's face was turned
sideways, and the pillow masked part of it, but she smiled anyway.
For as cute as he claimed her to be, she found him to be just as
adorable—especially when he was being pushed out of his comfort
zone.

At least he's willing to try
, she
thought to herself.

She had had boyfriends in the past who would
do wild and crazy things, but that was their nature; it spoke to
nothing of their character and what they would be willing to do for
her, or even what that might endure for her. Of course, those
boyfriends had been just that—boys.

She sat up slowly and moved to the edge of
the bed making certain not to wake her lover. From there, she
climbed down the stairs and cringed each time they creaked. Michael
didn't seem to notice; she could still hear him breathing and the
rhythm hadn't changed.

When she reached the bottom, she alighted
softly, skipped over to the refrigerator, poured herself some tea,
and headed for her art. The flip of the switch illuminated the area
brightly, and she stood there for a moment looking at her easel.
The painting seemed to mock her.

She frowned as she saw the swirls of paint.
Purple and green were her current choices and they swooped about
the canvas like spider webs. Some were thick, some thin, and the
lacework was intricate. It was also frustrating her.

Taking a deep breath, she picked up a palette
and began to mix paints. A fine tipped brush was chosen and with
delicate strokes, she began to apply paint. Her head moved from one
side to another as she thought about the movements, and for long
moments, she would do nothing but stare.

When she was thirsty, she would drink, and
when she was frustrated, she would think. The focus was intense,
and she didn't notice that her tea never ran out, nor did she
notice the sunlight beginning to stream through the windows.

Setting her brushes down, she pulled back and
examined her work. The latticework was finely detailed, and the
background stark in contrast, allowing for the vibrant greens and
purples to shine. However, something was still wrong. She hadn't
worked on this painting since Michael had last been here, and she
wondered what his thoughts might be. She smiled for a moment.

How had he come to mind
? she
wondered.

Normally, she was so focused on her work that
nothing intruded upon her thoughts but more paint, more
perspective, and more tea. She turned about and found Michael,
exactly where he was supposed to be—on the couch, bare-chested, and
wearing nothing but slacks. She didn't even find it odd that he was
there.

As with the previous night they had shared
together, she went to him and curled up on the couch. He was
asleep, and she smiled as she put her head in his lap. His hand
wasn’t stroking her hair, but she didn't mind. The easel was the
thing that mattered and it continued to mock her as she looked at
it.

"I don't know," she said quietly. "Maybe I
just need to chuck it and start with a new canvass."

"The lament of every artist I imagine,"
Michael whispered back to her.

He must have woken when she laid her head on
him, and she smiled as she began to feel his hand stroke her hair.
Melanie didn't respond to his words, but she squeezed her hand,
which was resting on his leg to let him know that she
understood.

"I still can't get it right," she said after
a moment. "What would you do?"

"I'm an architect," he replied. "I would
straighten out the lines, add some symmetry, and specify a Koehler
toilet."

Melanie turned her head to his leg and bit
him. This time she did it hard enough so that his exclamation of
pain was genuine. After he quieted down from more noise than he
needed to make, she patted his leg softly as if to say "Poor
Baby."

"Teal," Michael said suddenly.

Melanie's brow furrowed, a task made more
difficult by the fact that she was still laying on his leg.
However, as she thought about it, the idea had merit. Teal might
add another level of intricacy and fill some of her voids, but not
just any teal. She would have to mix this just right.

"What?" she asked as she suddenly turned
around.

"Do you want breakfast?" Michael said.

Melanie took a moment to understand her
situation. She was standing in front of her canvass, paintbrush in
hand, and Michael was smiling at her with a cup of coffee in his
hand.

"What time is it?" she asked with some
confusion.

Michael laughed, and Melanie turned her eyes
to slits.

That man laughs far too often at me
,
she thought.

However, she could only glare at him and set
her frame to show him that he did not impress her. Michael actually
had the nerve to chuckle even more, but he did have the manners to
try to hide it with a hand over his mouth.

"It's still Saturday if that's what you're
asking," he replied like a jackass.

"No, funny man," she replied, as she set her
paints down and went to grab her phone. She found it right where it
was supposed to be, thank God. She had learned long ago to always
put her phone in the same spot when at home. If she didn't, she
would walk around aimlessly, deep in thought, and that stupid phone
would end up in the oddest places; the freezer was one that came
immediately to mind; at least it had still worked after she had
thawed it.

"Breakfast?" Michael asked again.

"Oh, whatever," she replied. She looked at
the time. It was eight in the morning; she pursed her lips and
nodded her head.

Not bad
, she thought; she had
certainly lost more time than that on previous occasions.

"I'm going to take a shower," she said to
Michael, who then insisted that they save the planet by conserving
water and showering together. Melanie explained that she was all
about saving the planet, and he was certainly welcome to join her
in the bathroom. When he gave his stupid fake surprised look, as if
it were a shock that she was a conservationist, she glared at him
again; he actually had the nerve to laugh. It was barely
noticeable, but Melanie saw it.

"Just get in the damn shower," she said as
she set her foot tapping and pointed to the small room.

"Yes Ma'am," he replied smiling stupidly.

They could barely fit but made do and helped
each other bathe. Michael took a little too much time with her
breasts and she shook her head.

"We're supposed to be saving water, Mr.
Angel."

"Well, just because I suggested conservation
doesn't make me a conservationist."

Melanie shook her head, finished rinsing, and
left the shower. She dried off quickly while Michael finished his
rinse. When he exited the shower, Melanie took her towel and went
into her apartment; the bathroom was too small to allow multiple
people simultaneous use.

By the time Michael emerged, she already had
her panties and a tank top on; he was still naked and casting about
for his clothes.

"They're folded nicely over there," she said.
"Well, at least half of them are."

"Ah, thank you." he walked across the floor
naked, and Melanie smiled as she saw his form. She remembered her
art classes and the study of the human form. Women were considered
by many to be the superior idea of beauty— their supple form, the
gentle curves. Given a choice of models, many artists would take a
woman over a man.

The female form is beauty and grace
,
her instructed had said.
The male's is obscene
.

It was his own stupid opinion, and as Melanie
watched Michael look for his clothes, she had to smile.
Give her
muscles and a cock any day
.

"Michael, will you do something for me?" she
asked as she stared at his form.

"Sure," he said absently as he found his
slacks and underwear.

Melanie laughed. She knew that one day he
might learn to be more reserved when she made blanket requests like
that. But for the moment, he could suffer from his lack of
foresight.

"Okay," she responded as she moved over to
him and sat on the couch. He was nearby still looking for
clothes.

"Come here and turn around," she said.

Now, Michael's eyes widened. The look on his
face revealed his thoughts, and Melanie smiled as comprehension
dawned. She was not asking him to buy eggs. This would be something
more intense.

"Oh, just get over here you big baby," she
said.

Michael eyed her warily and slowly
complied.

"Turn around," she said as she put her finger
in the air and made a twirling motion.

Michael turned around and now had his back to
her.

"Okay," she said. "I'm going to bite you, so
don’t freak out."

"Bite me?" he asked.

"Yep, so just stay still," she said.

Melanie had never bitten a man on his ass
before, but she had always wanted to, and today seemed like a
perfect moment. She had thought about trying it while making love,
but even then, the act seemed odd; now, it just felt right; and she
was always about doing what felt right.

She smiled and moved her hands to his smooth
flesh. She caressed him softly and moved her mouth into his outer
cheek. Michael braved the action very well, and when she bit, he
gasped lightly. Melanie's eyes widened at his response, and she
pulled her mouth away while keeping her teeth clenched. She
released the bite well before she ripped any skin, and then moved
her hands to Michaels hips to turn him around. She smiled up to him
as he looked down to her.

"Thanks," she said. "That was just another
wish of mine.

"Ah, well let me know if you need anything
else."

"Of course," she answered with a wink. "Now,
how about breakfast?"

The rest of the day was spent together and
both of them found it enjoyable. Breakfast was casual and
easy—pancakes—and after that, they took their time leaving the
apartment and walking the city. Michael insisted on taking Melanie
back to the museum, and she endured two hours of walking the
exhibits. She even smiled as Michael pointed out one piece of art
after another.

The S.A.M. was still sterile for her, but she
began to appreciate the atmosphere more, and when she entered the
porcelain room, she gasped. Here was anything but sterility. It was
symmetrical, well laid out, and breathtaking, but not sterile.

"You've never been in here?" Michael asked
skeptically.

Melanie could only shake her head as she
stared at the painted ceiling and the floor to ceiling cabinets
that filled every wall—hell, they were the walls. The doors of the
cabinets were mostly glass and stretched far above her head, and
within each, on glass shelves, were set intricate pieces of
porcelain. The rooms lighting along with the internal lighting of
the cabinets made the painted artwork stand out vibrantly.

"Michael, this is wonderful," she said
without taking her eyes off the shelves.

If he responded, she didn't hear him, and it
was several minutes before she had the sense to look around.
Michael was nowhere to be found, and Melanie had no idea how much
time had passed; she guessed it had been long enough for Michael to
move on to other exhibits.

She took a quick look at the shelves again,
and as her eyes wandered over the cabinets, she saw the large
leather settee in the middle of the room. How she had missed it she
could only guess, and on its cushions sat a large book. Opening it
revealed information regarding the artwork on display, and Melanie
was soon lost to its pages.

"Are you hungry?" Michael asked.

Melanie looked up to find that Michael had
magically appeared before her.

"What?" she asked while once again wondering
how much time had passed.

Michael repeated the question with a chuckle.
Melanie just smiled, put the book down, and nodded her head.

"Come on," he said. "I bet you you’re the
kind of girl that loves to walk the market and buy food from the
vendors."

Melanie nodded with a smile and the couple
headed out of the Museum. As they took to the streets, she stopped
and turned to him. She looked up at him with an odd expression and
he returned the look. Melanie suddenly smiled with a wicked
thought.

He probably expects me to make another
wild request
.