Get your confidence together, I told myself as he continued to look at me, stealing glances as patrons continued to talk to him in the foyer of the museum. He had done the same during his artist's talk in the auditorium, his haunting ice blue eyes looking up, right at me. I tried hard to be lost into his talk and not into his eyes.
Unless I was just crazy, thinking he was staring at me. Why would a renowned artist, like him, be interested in such an outcast like me? I was losing focus on why I was here - to tell him I was interested in being his sex slave...I mean his studio assistant. Great, now I'm thinking dirty submissive thoughts. I can never leave my work at home. Damn my roommates for convincing me this was a good idea.
I walked down the stairs and through the cascade of beautiful water fountains, straightening my tight black pencil dress and trying to be confident. As I walked up the stairs at the opposite end, my foot caught the edge, tripping me, my legs bound in this damn dress, making it impossible to walk like a normal human being. I fell into two strong arms that lifted me back upright.
"Are you alright?" He asked.
I shook my head, unable to speak, mesmerized by his eyes.
"Meet me in the basement studio in five, Hannah." He whispered.
He smiled as he walked away, showing a hint of fang...
I am a writer, filmmaker, musician, performance artist, costume & fashion designer, artist, activist, theatre geek, industrial girl, vampire, and a professional trouble maker. I am also vegan and straightedge. Yeah, straightedge, you heard me right.