The art of Love

"I've noticed that in a lot of your paintings, there is a repetition of a certain type of tree."

She was holding a wine glass, wearing nothing but her gown. Leaning over him she continued," Does it hold some kind of significance?"

 He turned, took her hand from his chest and kissed it. "It does."

 He turned back to his painting. Which was a portrait of Crystal- a nude showcasing the tearing of her skin from her chest area, as the opening of a wound? The artwork shared the same style as that of artist Irma Stern.

She sighed and went back to sit on the bed. Watching him work gave him a certain aura, he was a perfectionist she noticed. He had a defined jawline that would catch her attention every time he turned. She rolled over and got her phone. She was talking to Dona. Then remembered something.

"Babe".She said without looking at him. He didn't respond, his eyes were fixed on the canvas. "My friend is inviting both you and me to a double date."She got his attention and he slowly let his paintbrush slide into a container. "Want to go with me?" He looked at her, with the eyes of an artist. The dapple shade emitting from the curtains brushed over her bodice and gave her a celestial appearance. He was fond of her body, how he could use her curves in his art.

"Is this that friend that you told me about. The blogger?".

She nodded and held her phone up. "What's your reply?"

 He nodded at her and called her to him with the curl of his finger. She sat on top of him and his hands were stationed on her hips. "I'd like to meet her yes."

She kissed him and poked his nose with hers. "By the way, I haven't told her anything about us."There's that word...us.He always figured himself as a lone practitioner of the arts, a man on a mission. His mission wasn't necessarily to win the heart of a woman, not even multiple women.

Crystal made him unsteady. He thought with his dick when he was around her, and it clouded his vision. He wasn't a sexual artist no, not another Egon Schiele. He kissed her, to stop her from talking. And from then on their sexual exploits continued. He'd lay her down on the bed and delve into her fervour. He kissed his way down her body and she responded by melting her body into his.

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"Thank you."

Dona was in Harry's embrace. Their bodies bare, sharing in each other's warmth. Harry brushed her hair from her face, twirling a curl.

"For?"He was kissing her neck. The sensuality of it almost made her not want to speak or incapable of speaking.

"You know."She took his hand and locked his with hers. He responded by bitting her earlobe causing her to flinch. She giggled and the hug deepened. "Those kind of things are always odd."

"Other than the usual, what else is odd?"

"How'd she know it wasn't after you?"He paused. "Not saying that I'd like it to be that way, no." He sighed. "What I'm trying to say is, can we trust her?"

She let go of his hand and turned to face him. Still very close and intimate, she was close enough to kiss him and in between the kiss saying," She probably had a vision."

 He looked down at her with a possessiveness that was warm and comfortable. "I didn't want to really ask about it."

She was looking at his lips. "It would make the situation, serious."It almost made me go crazy." She started to tear up."Or at least, make me feel crazy."

"You're not crazy babe."

 She motioned her way to lean her head on his chest. She started to trail her finger in a circular motion in his palm. Fidgeting tended to calm her. "The painting." He broke her out of her reverie. "Where is it now?"

"Madam Alice."  She sighed. "I figured, that she'd know what to do with it."

"Do you think it has anything to do with the case you're working with?" She hadn't even considered that. She figured it was merely a coincidence that these occurrences happened at the same time. 

"Why would you think that?"

"I figured since the painting is done by an anonymous artist and there's an anonymous artist going around." He flustered. "It sounds silly."

She laid with him, considering his theory. Then again, she rode on a mountain of theories. Madam Alice supposedly called the serial killer The Anguished Man because of his style, that represented the likeness to the portrait itself. Whether the two had anything in common, was a chance caught in the wind.