The Art of Seduction

by Annie Harland Creek

  She closed her eyes as he scooped a ladle full of bath water and, after gently easing her head backwards, poured the water over her hair. Rubbing a quantity of shampoo between his palms, he gently massaged the sweet smelling liquid into her hair, his fingers moving in small circles over her scalp, then down the length of her hair. He rinsed the shampoo, careful not to get any of the lather in her eyes then repeated the sequence before he conditioned her pale locks. When he stroked her hair, she shivered, her skin reacted with gooseflesh. She leaned back against his chest, breathing heavily. He closed his eyes and breathed her in, sensing her desire, wanting to give her more. He lathered a sponge with bath foam and began soaping her breasts with delicate but deliberate movements. She moaned when he dipped the sponge into the water between her thighs, finding the sensitive area between her legs and gently massaging her clit. She reached behind her, cupping his head, leaning into him as she cried out in climax. His cock jerked. He closed his eyes and held his breath. Patience. He eased her forward, lifting her silky hair and placing it over her shoulder so he could wash her back. Her satin smooth shivered beneath his fingers. She had said that she loved him. Perhaps it was the drugs. Perhaps not. He would give her time. Wait for her to fall in love with him. For the first time in a century he had hope.

  ****

  The combination of the luxuriously fragrant hot water, David’s talented hands exploring her body and his heavy erection pressing up against her back seemed like an erotic dream. A dream from which she hoped she would never wake up. When he eased himself out of the bath, she instantly missed the skin to skin contact. The bath lost its appeal. A yawn stretched her mouth and she covered it with her good hand. If only I wasn’t so tired. He looked so damned hot as he quickly dried his body with a towel. Too quickly. After discarding the towel, he held out his hand, so confident in his nudity. He had every right to be. He was beautiful. His firm body, chiseled and bulging with muscle however something else stole her gaze. His heavy erection. Her body reacted with a shudder of anticipation. She accepted his hand and stepped out of the bath, her legs shaking with desire as he wrapped her up in a fleecy cotton bath robe and carried her to his bed.

  She fought to stay awake but the sensation of David massaging her hair dry with a warm towel made her light-headed, sleepy. His chest pressed firmly against her back as they sat on the edge of the bed, her body once again between his legs, his hands in her hair, his breath on her neck, his naked skin within reach. She wanted to touch him in the way he had insinuated during the last art class, drive him mad with desire. Sleepy. When David picked up a brush from his bedside table and began to brush her hair, the sensation sent shivers down her spine. It felt so intimate, so affectionate; so tired.

  ****

  David sensed that Meaghan was close to sleep but her arousal was undeniable as she moaned in appreciation of the care he was taking with her hair. His lips kissed a path down to the base of her neck. She wants you. He shook his head. She was vulnerable in her present state and he could not, would not take advantage, no matter how her pheromones screamed at him. She’d trusted him to bathe her, groom her and although—from past experience—he knew she was likely to be intimidated by his nudity, she’d allowed him to wrap his legs around her in the bath and as they sat on his bed.

  He leaned forward again, brushing her hair away from her neck with his hand and kissed her softly on the underside of her chin. She moaned. Her skin warmed at his touch. He maneuvered his head around to see her beautiful face, gauge her mood. Her eyes were closed, lips parted, waiting to be kissed. Giving in to his need, he kissed her. Her mouth melted into his. He supported her head in the palm of his hand, her body going limp at his touch. When he reluctantly withdrew his mouth, he noticed that her eyes were still closed, her mouth slightly open, a dribble of saliva hung on the corner of her bottom lip. She was asleep.

  Despite his disappointment, David chuckled to himself. Looks like you’ve lost your touch, old man. Never, in a century of lovemaking, had he ever experienced a woman falling asleep while on the verge of making love with him. Meaghan was definitely one of a kind. He’d anticipated her arrival for what seemed like eternity, dreamed of her, painted countless portraits of her, but she’d kept him waiting, refusing to be born until she was good and ready. Now she was in his bed, in his arms, the woman of his dreams … snoring.

  The soft nasal sounds reminded him of a purring kitten, a precious, soft little creature in need of love and affection but capable of causing damage with her claws. He lifted her into his bed, removed her damp robe from under the covers so he would not be tempted to fondle her naked flesh, and he tucked her in for the night. As he looked down at her cherubic face, he wondered how it was even possible that someone so sweet, so innocent, could possibly be a cold-blooded killer.

  Chapter Eleven

  Meaghan awoke to the aroma of a cooked breakfast, shocked to notice that, not only was she naked in a strange bed, but she was not alone. David rested on one elbow, staring down at her with a big goofy smile on his face. “Good morning, kitten. How are you feeling today?”

  “Fine.” Meaghan answered as she pulled the sheets up to her chin.

  David shook his head. “Nothing happened last night. You didn’t happen to bring any nightclothes with you and I didn’t want you to sleep in a wet bathrobe in case you caught a cold.”

  Meaghan noticed that David was lying on top of the sheets and he was gloriously naked. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. “So why are you naked?”

  “I always sleep naked,” he informed her. “It didn’t occur to me to change my sleeping habits.”

  Meaghan sat up, pulling the sheet with her. “I guess it also didn’t occur to you that you could have loaned me a t-shirt to sleep in?”

  David grinned and shrugged his shoulders. “Oops, my bad.”

  “You certainly are bad, David Corel,” she said, trying to ignore the touch of his hand on her thigh as his finger traced a line down her leg. His deep blue eyes twinkled with mischief as he rose from the bed—in all his naked glory—to collect the tray of food that Evan had send down on the dumb waiter. She willed herself to look away when he turned, tray in hand, to face her, but she found the task impossible. Even when she saw his manhood quiver at the sight of her eyes on his body, she couldn’t tear her gaze away from his rippling abdominal muscles, his narrow waist and hips and especially not his growing erection. How could it get any bigger? She was transfixed and, despite knowing that she blatantly stared at his manhood, she couldn’t look away. Didn’t want to look away.

  David smiled. “I see we’re making progress.”

  “Pardon?”

  “A few days ago, you would have run screaming from the room, but now you seem to be appreciating the naked human form with barely a blush.”

  “You haven’t given me much choice,” she reminded him as he placed the tray of food on her lap. “You seem to find it hard to keep your clothes on.” She turned her attention to the food. “Damn, that looks good.”

  “Thank you.” David bowed his head slightly in appreciation.

  “And he’s back.” She said the words out loud and instantly knew he would use them against her.

  “What do you mean by that?” he raised an eyebrow and his lips curled in another cheeky smile as he began to cut up her English breakfast.

  “Cheeky, David,” she mumbled as he fed her a mouthful of fried egg. “I much prefer the cheeky side of you to the serious side.”

  “So do I,” he admitted as he handed her a buttered slice of toast. “But sometimes I’m forced to deal with serious situations.”

  “Such as?” she took a bite from her toast and hoped that David would let his guard down long enough to provide information that would help with her case. After a restful night’s sleep, she had awoken with a clear mind and the determination to concentrate on the case, despite David’s attempt to distract her.

  “My brother Derrick and I manage a company which deals with community issues. Ou
r business deals with … let’s just say they aren’t always people-friendly clients which can sometimes be problematic. It’s our responsibility to ensure they don’t cause any trouble, so this spate of homicides has us concerned.”

  That’s why he’s been around campus. “You think that one of your clients is the murderer?” What type of people does he deal with? “What sort of business do you run? David … are you doing anything illegal?”

  “No, of course not.” He rose from the bed, found some fresh clothes in his closet, pulled on a t-shirt and jeans, and returned to lie beside her on the bed. “Think of me as a kind of parole officer.”

  “I see that you like to go commando,” Meaghan commented after noticing that he neglected to put on any underwear.

  “What can I say?” he teased. “The boys like to be ready to go whenever the situation arises.”

  Despite his playfulness, she noticed his pensive expression as if he was trying to decide if he should ask her a question. Apparently he made his decision because he asked,

  “I need you to be honest with me, Meaghan. How did you really get blood on your dress?”

  Meaghan put down the fork she had used to eat a slice of bacon and swallowed before answering. “I already told you, David. I have no idea.”

  “Okay. I believe you, but let’s work through this. You say that you didn’t leave the art room, is that correct?”

  Meaghan nodded and then paused to think, her eyes turned slightly up to the right. “Actually, come to think of it, I did leave for a few minutes. After your lesson—” she used air bunnies to emphasize her point—“I needed to splash some water on my face so I headed for the bathroom adjoining the main studio. The light bulb had blown so I couldn’t see very well. I bumped up against the sink before I located the tap. I guess maybe there was blood on the sink?” The last mouthful of food threatened to be regurgitated as she tried to push the image out of her mind.

  “Sounds feasible to me,” he told her, nodding his agreement. “So I guess that means that the killer washed her hands in the ladies’ room after the murder.”

  Meaghan raised her eyebrows. “Her hands? A male could just as easily have washed his hands in the ladies’ room.”

  “Highly unlikely,” he reasoned, dismissing her argument outright. “The class was still in progress and it would have been hard for a male to go into the bathroom unnoticed.”

  “You managed to disappear into the corridor unseen,” she reminded him. “There is a back entrance to the ladies’ room and with the bulb blown. It would have been easy to sneak in and out unnoticed.”

  “Enough about blood and murders for today,” he told her. “We’re behind in your lessons.” He picked up the tray and took it back to the dumbwaiter.

  “Ahem.” Meaghan lifted her injured wrist, reminding him that she wasn’t able to paint, but he shook his head.

  “To be good artist, you must understand your subject.”

  Meaghan scowled. “Get to the point.”

  “The lesson for today will be understanding how it feels to model for an art class.” Her stomach twisted. I have a bad feeling about this. What was he suggesting?

  “Remaining still while others draw your naked body is a difficult and awkward skill, one that many artists fail to appreciate. Today’s lesson, lesson three, is recognizing the difficulties of modelling and learning how to empathize.”

  “What?” Meaghan’s body temperature rose. Heat spread over her body. “You don’t mean … you can’t expect me to … you want me to pose nude?”

  “Yes,” David told her without offering any more information. “Would you like me to help you to the bathroom before we begin?”

  “I can manage that by myself,” she argued. “If you would just hand me a towel or robe.”

  “Why?” he asked with a shrug. “You’ll be taking it off in a moment anyway.”

  I’d prefer he attacked me with a knife or even try and strangle me … but stare at me while I’m naked? The idea terrified her. “I can’t do this.”

  He narrowed his eyes but his lips curled into a smile. “Yes you can.”

  She tried to call his bluff. “I’ve never heard of an artist posing nude.”

  David grin grew wider. His full lips turned at the corners in smug satisfaction and she realized that he had her where he wanted. She had played into his hands.

  “And yet, you’ve attended classes where the teacher becomes the model. Come now kitten, have you forgotten the nights I posed for you? Are you saying that I’m not really an artist?”

  “I haven’t seen any of your paintings.”

  “All sold.”

  “What about those leaning against the wall?”

  “You can’t talk yourself out of this kitten and you can’t trick me into showing you my paintings until I am good and ready. Soon, I promise. But as for now…” He pointed towards the platform in the center of the room.

  Meaghan stammered but couldn’t find the words that would help her escape the reality of her situation. If David felt it necessary for an artist to learn how to pose nude, who was she to argue. He was a professional artist and—from what she had heard and seen—a highly sought after model. But, how could she bring herself to pose for him when she could barely look at herself naked in the mirror? She assumed that he’d seen a great many naked women in the course of his career and in his love life. How would her body fare in comparison? A heaviness settled in her stomach.

  “I need to use the bathroom,” she told him, her statement giving no indication of her decision to pose for him. She hesitated, waiting for him to look away so she could leave the bed. “Could you please turn your back?”

  ****

  David shrugged his shoulders but nevertheless, turned away. He heard the soft footfalls indicative of her running from the bed to the bathroom and then the slam of the bathroom door. He wondered if he had taken his game a little too far. She was naïve and innocent, of that he was sure, and he wanted to ease her into a sense of security around him. Sure, she had allowed him to undress her by candlelight, bath her and had even felt safe enough to fall asleep in his arms, but would she feel confident enough to allow him to admire her naked body in the light? He wanted so badly to explore every inch of her, touch and squeeze her breasts and taste her but more than that … he wanted her to want those things too. If she learned to feel confident in her own skin, maybe she could learn to understand his way of life and his desire to live in her light. He’d lived too long in darkness. He wanted everything in his world to be bright and beautiful and illuminated. And to him … Meaghan embodied all those things.

  ****

  She used the bathroom’s amenities and even managed to wash her hands and face without assistance, much to her delight. The pain in her wrist troubled her but not as much as the thought of posing nude. Standing by the door with a towel wrapped around her body, she could hear David in his studio, preparing his easel and paints and dragging something that sounded like a couch around the room. A scene from the movie Titanic flashed across her mind and she pictured herself posing across a couch wearing nothing but a necklace. She scrunched up her nose but decided that Kate Winslet had looked quite beautiful as she posed and the drawing was very tasteful. Maybe modelling for David wouldn’t be so bad, as long as he kept his cheeky remarks and his hands to himself.

  She knew that David was aware of her insecurity but wondered if he would suspect the other reasons she felt reluctant to leave herself completely vulnerable and totally exposed. Would he deduce that she had suspected, and still hadn’t ruled out the possibility, that he might be the serial killer? She would be naked and her injury would render her totally defenseless if he attacked her while she was inclined on the couch. But if he was innocent, and she hoped and prayed he was, she worried that her body would betray her, allowing him to see through her defenses and see her physical reactions to his proximity. She couldn’t think around him, couldn’t breathe. She wanted desperately for him to teach her the art of
seduction so she could make love to him with her body, the way that he made love to her with his eyes. Yes, she sensed his eyes on her body whenever they were in the same room and she wished she could find the confidence to tell him to instead use his hands, his mouth and more, so much more. She rested her forehead against the bathroom door, took a deep breath and allowed the towel to drop onto the ground as she grabbed the door knob and prepared herself for whatever might happen next.

  “Don’t come out!” David called to her as she turned the doorknob. “We have company.”

  Chapter Twelve

  After David had left with his brother Derrick, Meaghan dressed in her previous night’s clothes and rushed back to her own apartment. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. She should be happy; she’d dodged a bullet. Why was she disappointed? Get a grip, Meaghan. Did you really want to parade around naked? What if he became aroused? Would you allow him to make love to you? Is your sexual desire stronger than your desire to catch the killer?

  She covered her face with her hands. Yes. Yes, to all those questions. Yes, yes, yes. She splashed cold water on her face, mindful not to dampen her cast and changed into fresh clothes before settling down onto the settee. As it turned out, the breakfast that Evan had cooked for her was actually brunch because she had slept most of the morning. The rest of the day dragged on without a word from David.

  Dinner was delivered to her bungalow at six o’clock and Evan informed her that Masters David and Derrick were eating out, so Meaghan felt secure in the knowledge that she could safely check out the campus. After eating, she leaned back on the settee and closed her eyes, picturing the campus in her mind and deciding on a desired location. The last murder had been close to the art department so she focused on the corridor near where the body was discovered.

  She’d practiced this technique since she first discovered her talent as a child in the orphanage. When the other children would leave with adoptive families, she would sometimes follow them in spirit, just to experience—even for a few minutes—the joy of having a family to love and cherish her. Unfortunately, she was spotted a few times and her sudden appearance would freak out the other children. Word got back to the orphanage and the buzz about the weird ghost-girl spread to prospective parents, so, not surprisingly, she was never adopted. Terry became her only friend. He thought her power—as he called it—was cool. Apparently he still thought it was cool because he’d assigned her to the case knowing she could inspect the campus without being in physical danger. As long as her actual body was in a safe environment, she was fine. Her incorporeal self could always come back safely.