Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 75195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Their excited words flowed to my ears.
“This collection is thrilling.”
“No. I think it’s alluring.”
“Jenny, those are all big words that are basically hot and sexy.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter. Tristan has done it again.”
While the words represented understanding and appreciation of my art, an odd emptiness rose within me.
Even worse, I couldn’t put a name to it.
What is it, Tristan? Get your head in the game.
I maneuvered through a thickening crowd in the center of the gallery. Soon there would not be enough space to walk.
As more and more entered, many gasped, others shrieked, and many took selfies by the pieces.
I spotted a woman gesturing to one of my sculptures.
“The attention to detail in this artwork is impeccable. This is groundbreaking.”
“I’m not sure about that. Are the women not simply set on fire?”
“It’s more than that. It’s a provocative nature imagery.”
“But is it more shock, rather than a deep exploration of theme?”
I put my focus back on the hunt. It was better to do that, than swim in the admiration and criticism.
I’d learned long ago to ignore other’s opinions on my art.
To care was a fickle, weary move that could harm not only my art, but my life.
“Captivating.”
“He’s a genius of our time.”
“Yes. Perhaps, our Van Gogh.”
“The way the artist plays with light and shadow in this sculpture is truly stunning.”
“So provocative.”
“I think it’s exploitative.”
“How?”
“Burning naked women? This is crossing the line.”
“Is there a line in art?”
I gritted my teeth and stopped, needing to see where this was going.
“The use of fire in this collection is really striking. It creates a sense of danger and passion that really draws me in.”
“I think he’s trying to say something?”
“What do you think the message is?”
I turned to the two critics—a man wearing black and woman donning white.
“I’m not sure what the message is, but it could be problematic.”
“How could these pieces be a problem?”
“Fire has long been associated with destruction and chaos. It’s difficult to reconcile that with the sensual and erotic nature of these sculptures.”
“But that’s exactly what makes these pieces so powerful. They’re challenging us to embrace the darker aspects of desire and passion.”
I groaned in annoyance and headed off.
“Still, I’m not convinced that the merging of sex and fire is a healthy or productive one.”
“I can’t believe you’re being so harsh.”
Aggravated, I headed further away, needing to get back to the hunt.
Soon, I navigated my way through a small group of women.
I could sense they were fangirl art enthusiasts, probably art tockers and vloggers. They had their phones out, recording everything and constantly speaking into their devices. Maybe, they were talking to live viewers.
One of them gazed my way, blushed, and prolonged her perusal of me. Lowering her phone, a flirtatious smile spread across her face.
As I got closer, she grabbed the end of her red hair and twirled some of it around her finger.
When I approached, she winked at me.
Not you, sweetheart.
Again, she was missing the thing that I yearned for, but couldn’t name myself.
Goddamn it. This hunt is becoming useless.
I passed by her, not interested in fucking a nameless stranger yearning for clout.
But then someone caught my eye on the right.
Hmmm.
I turned that way as if being pulled by this invisible, divine source.
I stopped in my tracks.
Who is that?
She had dark brown skin. Her thick curly hair twisted and coiled around her head and fell a little bit past her shoulders.
And her body. . .
She should have been a model for my sculptures. Her frame boasted curves in all the right places.
She wore black heels that dazzled my eyes. Dark blue dress pants hugged her ample ass and thick hips. Meanwhile a conservative bright blue shirt attempted to hide those full breasts, but were doing a horrible job. Even buttoned all the way up to her delicate neck, I could make out the soft mounds under the fabric.
Who is she? What’s her name?
She studied one of my sculptures, her eyes tracing the lines of the naked form.
What does she think?
I watched her for a moment, my gaze traveling over her body, imagining what it would feel like to touch her, to taste her.
Heat rose within me.
My cock jerked in my pants, and with that came the desire to claim this woman that I didn’t know.
I want her.
Chapter Two
The Moth and the Flame
Instantly, I became the predator hunting the unsuspecting prey.
I walked over to her with a slow, deliberate movement.
She should be in my bed tonight.
My steps were measured and controlled.
No. Remember the goal. She is meant for the party.
My gaze remained steady on her.
Don’t forget the process. First she must pass all the tests to tell me that she could be ready for the event.
When I stopped a foot from her, she looked up. Curiosity filled her eyes. And I swore there was something else that sparked in her gaze too.