He looked down to Melanie; she had a warm smile and pleased look on her face.
"You really are a very nice man," she said.
The look she gave Michael made him smile and he bent down to kiss her gently. She smelled wonderful. He didn’t know if it was her hair, her perfume, or something else, but he didn't care. He pulled away, and her face turned sad for a moment.
"Hey, no sad faces, okay," he said to her. He was still uncertain why she was upset, but he hoped she would get over it soon.
Melanie quickly put a smile on her face and turned her attention to the screen. She really had never seen a Steampunk movie, and contentedly settled down to watch it. The movie began, and they ate the popcorn, drank some soda, and enjoyed the movie as it played.
"Do you like it so far?" he asked after half an hour.
"Shh," she said as the characters moved about the screen.
Michael chuckled and kissed her head. He’d seen the movie already as he had said, and didn’t mind seeing it again. It was a good movie. However, he found Melanie curled up next to him to be the more enjoyable event of the evening. He took a deep breath and barely felt her weight on his chest. She rose and fell with his movements, and her eyes didn't waver from the screen.
When the movie was over, she looked up to him as he reached for the remote. She had that loving look tinged with sadness.
"Thank you for that, Michael," she said.
"Did you like it?" he asked.
"Very much," she answered. "I really liked how normal it felt."
Michael was confused and let her know it.
"It's just that my life is not a normal one, and it was nice to share something that most people do—eat popcorn and watch a movie while sitting on the couch. We can't really do that at my place."
"We could always sit on your couch, eat popcorn, and stare at the brick wall on the far side of the loft," Michael said.
Melanie glared at him, put her head down to his lap and bit his leg.
"Ow," he cried. "You know while you're down there…" he started to say before being bit again.
She popped her head up and smile at him teasingly. She looked like someone who had just pulled off a great practical joke and was gloating over it.
"Hey," Michael said. "How about we do something normal in bed?"
Melanie eyed him oddly and shook her head, "How about we watch TV all night and fall asleep like old people."
Michael rotated off the couch and scooped her up in his arms.
"Ah," she cried out in surprise.
Michael just laughed, threw her over his shoulder, and carried her to the bedroom. He set her carefully on the bed and went to kiss her. He paused when he saw her happy sad face. It concerned him for a moment, but she bent towards him and kissed him softly. He took the kiss and then nuzzled her neck as he began to remove her clothes. Melanie allowed it and ran her fingers through his hair as he joined her on the bed.
With the removal of her blouse, bra, and skirt, she stopped him and insisted that he was next. She pushed him backwards to a seated position, an act made possible by his obedience, and began to remove his shirt. She ran her hands along his chest and took pleasure in feeling his muscles and admiring his form. Michael began to undue his pants and Melanie leaned in and took his nipple in her mouth. She bit him and Michael gasped. She paused for a second, but after determining the gasp was pleasure, she continued.
Michael's hands went to her head and he pulled her into him. She bit harder and he gasped again. Melanie backed away and looked to her lover. He was breathing heavy, with his eyes closed.
"Do you like that?" she whispered.
"Apparently," he replied in between breaths.
Melanie smiled and repositioned herself, forcing Michael onto his back. When he was prone, she returned to his nipples and began to repeat her performance. She had to smile as one of his hands went to her head and applied pleasure, driving her mouth gently into him.
She used a free hand to reach for his groin. He had not succeeded in freeing himself, but there was enough room for her to reach him. He was hard, and her own eyes closed as she wrapped her fingers around him. Her small hands held tight, and when she blindly bit into his chest, she could feel him pulse within her grasp.
A finger swiped across his tip and she was rewarded with a wetness that she knew was pre-ejaculation. She smiled and brought her finger to her lips—it was sweet. Turning to Michael, she saw that he was still breathing heavy, with his eyes closed. She watched him for a moment, with her chin on his chest. A frown came to her face and she sighed.
It was only a second later that she shook the feeling away, put a smile on her face, and began to kiss downward. She felt that she owed him after that wonderful panty smothering, and she believed she deserved a few more pleasant memories of this man. More importantly, she really wanted him in her mouth.
In the middle of the night, Melanie awoke and watched Michael sleep. Normally, she would paint or read, but this was not her house and those hobbies were not available to her. So, she contented herself with watching him rest.
Michael awoke for some reason and stared at her staring at him. It took him a moment to clear his head. When he did, he stroked her cheek. There was no smile between either of them.
"What is it, Melanie?" he asked.
She put on a timid smile and replied that everything was fine.
"Ah, what a terrible liar you are," he said, still not smiling and still brushing her cheek.
Melanie put her head on his chest and looked to the foot of his bed; he began to stroke her hair.
"You're very nice, Michael," she said.
"I know," he joked.
She turned to his chest and bit him. This bite did not bring him pleasure, but it didn't bring him pain either. After Michael calmed down from his false admittance of suffering, they lay in silence for a minute.
"You deserve someone better than me," she whispered.
"You're a fantastic woman, Melanie," he replied.
"Of course," she joked back to him. "Still, you deserve someone better; someone like Jennifer. Well, maybe not Jennifer, but someone similar to her."
"I don't want Jennifer," he replied sleepily. "I want you."
"Do you?" she asked skeptically.
"Shh," he said. "I'm trying to sleep, and of course I want you. Don't be silly."
Melanie smiled and could feel his hand on her head begin to slow its stroking motion. He was falling asleep again, and she let him. She knew she couldn’t let this go on much longer, but for the moment, she enjoyed herself. In the morning, she would deal with the thoughts that were ripping her mind apart. She was caring for him more and more and at a time that she needed to pull away from him. If he were a boy, someone like she used to date, this would be easier. As it was, her emotions were playing havoc with her logic, and the result was her teetering between staying and leaving; if she wasn’t careful, she would hurt Michael.
Damn, she thought as her head moved up and down with his breaths. She had meant to enjoy this moment, but those thoughts of uncertainty had crept in and stolen that from her. She sighed, and as she tried to return to sleep, her emotions won out and she began to cry.
Chapter 13
Michael attempted to visit with Melanie over the next few days, but his workload was heavy, and her reticence made it difficult. Social media became his friend and soon, so did Dagger and Amber; it was no surprise that Melanie avoided such systems. When he queried the ladies, they both refrained from answering him directly regarding Melanie's mood. They played stupid, but Michael had enough experience around those women to know they were not that dumb, immature perhaps, but not dumb.
He wondered if he had done something to warrant Melanie's bad mood, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what it was. If he had done something wrong, and Melanie was punishing him for it, then it spoke to a low level of maturity, and he didn't think she was capable of that. True, she could be child like, but that was vastly dif
ferent from being childish.
He needed to do something and as he worked on his project for his clients, he was able to kill two birds with one stone. He smiled at his finished product; and it was a happy and contented Michael Angel that met with Melanie on Friday night. She greeted him at the loft door after buzzing him up and smiled to him. He had missed that smile. His sketchbook was in his hand, but he gave her a hug and she took it warmly.
"I missed you," he said.
Melanie smiled weakly and admitted that she had missed him as well.
"What would you like to do tonight?" he asked her.
"Oh, we can stay in or perhaps walk the water front," she answered.
"Melanie, don't you want to go to a show? Or, maybe I can take you to a new restaurant," he suggested.
The reply was noncommittal, and Michael just shook his head.
"Well, grumpy girl," he said, and Melanie's head jerked up with the comment. She didn’t appear to like being addressed that way.
"I have a surprise for you," he said.
"Oh, what's that?" she asked, eyeing him warily.
"We had a preliminary meeting with the client today, and they loved the updates and the mockup of their building."
"Well, that's great," she said, and she genuinely appeared happy for Michael.
"Would you like to see the end product?" he asked with a grin.
Melanie put on a skeptical look, but nodded her head slowly.
"Okay, let's see it," she said.
"Great, come here and lie next to me," Michael said as he took his customary position on the couch. Melanie joined him on the couch, curled her feet, and tucked into Michael. For a moment, he enjoyed it and didn’t move. When she looked up at him with eyes that said, I'm waiting. He opened his sketchbook and let her take a look at the buildings design.
It was now complete. He'd added the proper coloring and shading, as well as flowerbeds, trees, and even some skyline showing clouds. The extras were something he normally didn’t take this much time with, but he had missed Melanie at night, and this had led to him expressing his more artistic side.
Melanie looked at the sketch and bolted upright. She looked at Michael and then at her canvass in the alcove and then back to the sketchbook. She was incredulous, and her mouth opened and closed.
Michael watched her reactions with concern. She did not appear happy, and he wondered why. He took another look at his sketch and to the mural that now graced the back wall of the lobby. It was a semi-faithful reproduction of her canvas.
The intricate lacework was breathtaking with its web like designs and transitions of colors. Melanie's canvas, being painted in oils, was still wet; it would remain that way until long after she was finished. In order to duplicate the appearance, Michael had purchased glow pens and other art supplies. The homage to his lover had taken hours, and where he had been forced to modify her work, he had attempted to remain true to her principles.
Across the back walls, along the grand stairs to either side, and partially covering the ceiling, the design spread forth and faded slowly like ethereal wisps into the more standard white painted walls that would most likely grace the actual structure.
"You bastard!" Melanie cried out.
Michael was stunned, and it was his turn to open and close his mouth. Melanie didn't wait for him to respond. She stood up and marched across the room. Pacing angrily, her hands clenched and unclenched several times. Michael was too astonished to speak. He had hoped to cheer up Melanie from whatever might be ailing her, but this certainly was not the reaction he expected.
"Melanie, I…"
"Get out!" she yelled at him as she stopped pacing.
"Melanie, come on," he said sincerely, "What's wrong?"
Melanie's eyes bulged, and she shook her head while her hands came up in frustration.
"What's wrong?" she asked him as if that was the dumbest thing he could ever say. "You stole my design you bastard."
"Melanie, I didn't steal it. This was meant as a compliment," he began to say.
"Oh, bullshit, Michael. You stole my work to put on this." She came to him and pointed at his sketchbook. "You put my art on display in some corporate lobby as if it's meant for commercial application. This is my art Michael, not some marketing gimmick."
"Melanie, I'm sorry," he replied and held his hands out to display his sincere regret. "I had no idea how you felt."
"Yeah, well you should have asked."
"It didn't occur to me to ask, I thought you would like it. Besides, the corporate office will not be like this. This was just a mockup. I even have one here with a plain lobby." He attempted to show her another image in his book, but Melanie didn't want to see it.
"Get out," she said again and pointed to the door.
"Melanie, I…"
"NOW!" she screamed, and Michael had to turn his head to protect his ears.
"All right," he responded and tried to calm her by using his hands to show he was moving.
"Not with this," she said angrily as she came to him and took his book. She set it down and tore out the page.
"This is mine," she said, as she held the image by its corners.
"I'm going to burn your stupid commercialistic trash. Now get out."
"Melanie…"
"OUT!"
The second loud outburst once again told Michael that this little lady meant business, and he merely shook his head in confusion. Grabbing his sketchbook from where she had dropped it, he turned and opened the door. He looked back once, but Melanie glared, pointed her finger to the outside, and when he didn’t move fast enough, she let the sketch in her hand fall to the ground, and walked rapidly to him.
She pushed at him and Michael complied by stepping outside the loft. She didn’t have the strength to push him if he did not want her to, but she was in no mood to be trifled with. The door slammed behind him with force, and when it did, he turned back. He was tempted to knock, but shook his head.
Putting his hand on the door, he felt the wood with his palm. It was old. Not as old as the building, but these units must have been thirty years old and the door felt as if it was the original. He admired the quality and gazed as the various layers of paint that were chipping off in areas. Taking a deep sigh, he shook his head.
"I'm sorry, Melanie. I never meant to hurt you," he said, as he pulled his hand from the door.
It was not said as a loud outburst, but it was not whispered either. It was a slightly louder than normal voice, but he was uncertain whether she had heard it. If she had, she didn’t give any signal to that effect. Michael shook his head, turned around, and headed down the stairs.
Inside the loft, Melanie was curled up on her couch with a throw pillow in her hands. It was a poor replacement for Michael, but it gave her something to wrap her arms around. She rocked slightly as she looked to the sketch that lay unceremoniously on the floor. It was at an odd angle to her, and she had a difficult time seeing the design; it was beautiful, of that she was certain.
After several minutes, she put the pillow aside and left the couch. Approaching the sketch, she made no attempt to retrieve it or even move it. Instead, she walked around the edges and looked at it from several angles.
The brightness of the pens' ink glimmered with the light of her loft. He had attempted to match her brightness and failed. She could understand the failure, but admired the attempt.
"Wisps," she whispered to herself, as she saw how he had faded away the image to blend in with the buildings background.
Why didn't I think of that? she asked herself.
She wiped a tear away and sat cross-legged in front of the image. She had tried to rip it carefully from his book and had mostly succeeded. Her anger at the time had been genuine, but it had also been tinged with a sadness that had driven her crazy. She had been caught somewhere between anger at having her design used in such a manner and frustration from her feelings of last week. She was angry with Mrs. Angel, angry with herself for not standing her gro
und, and angry with Michael for not being psychic; why had he not know exactly what was wrong and magically fixed it?
Well, it was over now, and that thought saddened her. She had overreacted; she knew that. That first blast of anger had been a small triggering event blown vastly out of proportion by her stressed state, but now, as she thought about it, the fight would serve a better purpose; it was better for him to believe she hated him than to know more about her. Still, she felt like a bitch and began to cry.
The image before her was drawn skillfully, and she knew he had done it out of love. That thought killed her. He could not have known it would anger her, and she fully believed him when he said it was for demonstration purposes. He must have shown two, three, or perhaps more mockups. Hell for all she knew the company didn't even like her design.
As scenarios played through her mind, she hated herself more. She looked to her phone. It was exactly where it was supposed to be. She thought about calling Michael, but she knew she wouldn’t. For as much as she hated Mrs. Angel, she knew Michael deserved better.
Coward, she thought.
She stood and went to her own canvas. It was bathed in light as if it was the most important thing in the world, and as Melanie stepped in front of it, her pupils constricted rapidly turning the outside world dark. In a matter of seconds, it was hard to see the rest of the loft. Her head tilted back and forth and she considered her work. It was an expression and meant to represent truth as it fades and swirls and moves through life.
Melanie, looked back to her phone again. She was certain it was where it should be, but she could no longer see it. However, she still would not call, but at least she admitted a few truths to herself. She was a coward. She was indeed a very suitable match for Michael; it was him that might be lacking. It was his censure that she feared; and she didn't know if she had the strength to watch him shake his head in judgment and leave her.
Enticing An Angel Page 12