Talk Dirty to Me...

Talk Dirty to me…

In response to a message telling her to have a great day she wrote…”you too, if you don’t mind can you talk dirty to me?”  She was in France, I was in the US.

The following was sent over a series of texts midmorning through mid afternoon.  Pausing in places knowing it would driver her crazy.

Enjoy:

“I was sitting on the deck watching an air plane fly over.  Not a second later there was a knock at my front door, when I opened it I say you standing there.  The smile on your face was telling.  I knew we would be in for one fantastic time.”

------

As you walked in, past me I could see that you were excited to see me.  Your face was flushed with color, hugging you I could feel your body temperature rise.  Your legs were a bit shaky as I held you.

------

You suddenly stepped back at the realization I had no shit on and spent a few moments admiring my nipple piercings.  “Go ahead” I said.  You proceeded to touch them, gently at first, then an occasional tug or twist.

-------

Your smile got even bigger noticing the effect you were having on me.

-------
Within seconds my hands removed your top and bra, 

your beautiful breasts were now fully exposed to me, 

I could not help myself, 

I leaned into you, kissing you hard on the mouth, 

our tongues exploring each other.

--------
As your body pressed hard against mine I could feel your breasts against my chest, the desire to taste your nipples was overwhelming,

I began to gently massage your nipples with my tongue,

sometimes taking your entire breast into my mouth.

Every time I did you would moan,

your hands frantically looking for something on me to return the pleasure.

------
As I continued to taste your beautiful breasts my hands helped you remove any remaining clothes still on.

------
My hands no free to explore your nude body, your excitement grew to an unexpected high as I ran my hands over your ass, 

hips,

gently feeling your inner thighs.

I could see that you had become so aroused that your fluids started running down your legs.

------
You stood me up shaking as you did.  Your hands now moving down my chest,

down further.

In one twist of your fingers my shorts had fallen onto the floor.  My throbbing cock was now exposed to you, at the sight of it pulsing your moved to your knees.

-------
With tiny kisses you proceeded to take my entire cock into your mouth,

feeling the veins as they rubbed past your lips.

You spend sometime feeling the ridge of my cock head, playing with my piercings.

--------
We are both now so arouse and we have just made it past the front door! Clothes spread all over the living room we make it our way to my bedroom. With a quick movement I surprise you by throwing you onto the bed.

--------
My cock now so stiff, 

the veins pulsing,

the desire to fuck you now at an extreme,

I spread your legs as I lean over you and tease your wanting,

throbbing clit with my cock head and piercings.

---------
With every rotation around your dripping pussy your clit gets more engorged,

your pussy lips get more engorged,

every time my cock head rotates around your opening your pussy lips make and effort to grab me and pull me in.

--------
My sheets are drenched in you!

---------
Slowly I push my cockhead into your dripping pussy,

you make a new sound as your feel the head of my cock enter you.  The ridge of my throbbing cock passes through your opening and you moan, 

your back arches in anticipation of experiencing the feeling of my cock sliding deeper into you.

----
Your pussy lips now wrapped around my cock as I slowly slide deeper into you,

you can feel the veins in my cock against your lips,

causing a new rush of your fluids to escape you.

-----
Our faces,

hands,

our lips and tongues explore each other while we fuck endlessly and our bodies become one.

-------
The building desire to climax in both of us becomes intense,

pleasurable and endless…

Our rhythm intensifies as I thrust deeper and deeper into you.  My cock always increases in size just before climaxing and after years of practice I can hold off a climax until you are ready and satisfied.

-----
My cock now deep inside you,

hard,

engorged,

your clit in the same state,

every thrust my pelvic bone slams against your clit causing you intense pleasure,

my cock deep inside you.

--------
Both of us ready to explode,

ready to climax,

ready to give the other the ultimate gift.  We explode into a climax that sends both of our hot sweaty bodies into shivering as I release my fluids deep inside you,

your body responds the same. It seems you just had your first female ejaculation,

my body is drenched in you! Our fluids mingle in your and as we lay in each others arms they drain from your filling the room with the scent of us.

-----
You look down at my still throbbing cock,

dripping in both of our fluids.  The desire to please each other continues as you move to clean me,

suck me,

please me.  At the same time I move so that I can do the same for you.  Separating your pussy lips with my tongue I make my way to your now incredibly sensitive clit,

where I suck on your while you do the same for me.  Our bodies tighten as we once again climax,

releasing even more fluids,

this time for each to taste,

to inhale, to enjoy.

-------
I woke up to the sound of an airplane flying over as I laid there on the deck,

left with this fantasy and my cock throbbing,

hard,

wanting you…

-------------

The reply from her was simple and it put a smile on my face “Oh God! Thank you”.

It's been a while part two...

Things are finally settling down after the move.  My daughter and I closed on the house on June 28th and it has been non stop since!  Below are images of the home and while most of the 1st floor is done we still have painting to do in the foyer and stairwell.  I've also started work on the basement as you can see below.  A quick wall deciding my work room from the game room.   At the same time I required a small studio at 333 Midland which is about 8 minutes away.  Will be doing my painting work there.  It's good to be back in Detroit and its even better to be actively producing art again.

Living room

Puppies corner.

Dinging room turned library

Kitchen nook

Kitchen

Workroom in progress

And the studio:

Arts in the Park...

Freeland Michigan, come see great art, have some great food and wine and listen to live music!!!

I will be there on September 10th

A place in my heart

You will always have a place in my heart,
I knew this to be true right from the start,
The passion between us was strong,
Nothing in my world at the time was wrong.

We have shared so many things,
There were times making love,
Was as if we both had wings,
and with bodies entwined,
as if the universe was watching from above.

Passion and touch,
lips that fit mine,
You will always have a place in my heart,
I knew this to be true right from the start.

She stood in my doorway

On a silent day in June,
with all forms of life in bloom,
there was a knock at my door,
with the bright blue sky and sun,
there she was standing in my doorway.

A loving embrace,
a moment to taste,
the air thick with passion,
and loving distraction.

Bodies old once new,
to watch the sun,
glide through a Van Gogh blue,
now feelings of frolic and fun,
give way to the passions of life on the run.

Rolling to hold her body now gone,
as my eyes open wide I see,
the shape of things to come,
her body in the distance wild and free,
her instincts telling her to run from me,
there she was standing in the doorway.

The first one...

It has to be you,
the first one to say,
the things on your mind,
that you love me to.

It has to be you to start a conversation,
I have tried with all my heart,
just to be kept in isolation.

I will stay here for eternity,
because I cannot do more,
so it will have to be you,
the first one to say,
life has been empty,
that something is missing.

It will have to be you,
to send a letter,
confirmation that you exist,
a short note,
one that makes things better,
one that does persist.

It will have to be you,
taking the higher road,
but image the relief,
when you are able to unload,
even if you keep it brief.

Simply put,
it will have to be you...

I long for the day...

I long for the day when you realize we were meant to be,
that regardless of space and time you are here with me,
I long for the day when our hearts are healed,
when both of our fates are eternally sealed.

I long for the day when you are in my arms,
where I can keep you safe from any harm,
I long for the day when our lips once again touch,
because I know you miss me that much.

I long for the day when you come to me and say,
the things once thought are a trillion miles away,
I long for nights of passion and desire,
along with the mornings after,
both of us embracing in a hot shower.

I long for so much because I know it is true,
the love and heart ache that we both have gone through,
I long for you to realize that true love is not sex,
nor time together or the universe as seen from the city,
it is the way we both feel given the possibility,
that our worlds have been altered by the other,
I long for you to finally see that there is no other!

My love is enduring and deep,
it is expressed in my writings,
in my art and in my actions.

Someday you will see the things I long for you to see,
though I know you must in your time, in your way,
with out my presence setting you free,
I long for this day while kneeling on one knee!

It seems you have a lot to say...

I see the attempts,
the daily visits,
whatever the reason,
whatever the cause,
the only way to reach me now,
is a hand written letter.

It seems you have a lot to say,
as if your words would make me sway,
if you want to speak,
if you want your voice to be heard,
then send me a hand written letter.

I know you think of the time we spent,
together in loving embrace,
I know satisfaction has been absent,
I know my words play in your mind,
regardless of who or the time.

So the only way to communicate,
is to write a hand written letter,
that may instill the seed of desire,
one that will overcome distrust,
hate and anger.

It's pretty simple at this point,
just write me a hand written letter,
like the ones you have in the past,
that in your heart you say you are better.

You know I love you,
you know I am in need,
and yet,
all it takes is a hand written letter!

If I could describe the taste of you...

If I could describe the taste of you,
it would taste like the color of midnight blue,
wandering in the mid day sun,
leads to nights of vintage Cosecha red,
where glittering days of midnight sun,
playing with times of proposals undone.

If I could describe the taste of you,
it would be like the earths watery hue,
a giant pearl in the blackness of space,
and life's eternal torment,
regarding the human race.

Notions of love and saving grace,
are filtering moments in the deadness of space,
but the universe is a mysterious place,
giving hope to notions of love and saving grace.

The tasting of you fills my lungs with pleasure,
like finding the universe in your eyes,
and a world of untold treasure,
sweet dreams go by every night,
while notions of tasting you take flight.

We spend our days in the delicate dance of life,
our nights sleeping off drunken strife,
the taste of you imbedded in my soul,
time and aging taking its toll,
all the while trying to describe the taste of you,
wondering what I've got to do,
with these notions of tasting you.

If you only knew

For the one who never stops inspiring me~
 
If you only knew,
the times I've started painting you,
only to get discouraged to follow through,
if you only new the things I have written,
looking back at when there was a word smitten.

If you only knew,
the things you have inspired,
how I have dreamt of you when I was tired,
only to wake alone yet again,
as if before life ever began.

If you only knew,
the things I have wanted to say,
but kept my feelings locked up every day,
I look at old photographs and close my eyes,
as if to travel back to those wondrous skies.

If you only knew,
the times I have spent exploring you,
how many times I have traveled,
down those dangerous curves,
if you only knew how often I think of you.

You would know that life,
would not be the same had I never met you.

Do you miss me?

Do you miss me,
the way we touched,
do you miss the laughter,
or do you miss the morning after?

Do you miss me,
the way we kissed,
that our lips fit together,
do you miss the attention,
walking down the street,
do you miss the love so sweet?

Do you miss me,
and the adventure,
do you miss the tenderness,
or the smell of us in the air,
do you miss the passion,
the intensity like no other?

Do you miss me,
do you miss the long talks,
or the long walks,
along rivers of color,
deep reds and blues,
do you miss the things
I loved about you?

Do you miss me?

In a dream I had last night

In a dream I had last night,
you were laying next to me,
both our bodies trembling as hands touched skin,
feeling my body heat transfer to you.

In a dream I had last night,
my fingers explored your body,
running my fingers from your head to your toes,
you laid next to me fully exposed.

My hands trembled as I caressed you,
feeling goose bumps rise and fall,
the touch of your skin against my lips,
the taste of you seeping deep into me.

In a dream I had last night,
we were one with each other,
our bodies entwined,
our hearts beating as one.

In a dream I had last night,
we explored each other,
some places new,
the others familiar.

In a dream I had last night,
no words were spoken,
just two in the heat of passions and desire,
then I woke this morning,
with nothing but the taste of you in the air.

My visitor to Studio 3

It had been a long week of grueling long days and nights in the city heat.  The only studio in the building with an air conditioner and it had had enough. Three days ago it just stopped and left me working in my third floor studio in 98-degree heat and humidity to match.  Sleeping during the day when possible, working late at night to get projects done, the heat was unbearable.  Especially now, why this time in my life I kept thinking.  The loneliness was bad enough and now to have to be alone in this god forsaken heat…

My first encounter with her was months ago, a friend whom I enjoyed being near, being close enough to her to smell her scent, hey visit home was a good thing for me, we talked often on line and I offered my studio to her while she was back in the States.  She had just accepted a position teaching English in France and would be there for the next two years, God anything could happen in that time and I needed her in my life even if at the simplest level.  When she showed up to work in Studio 3, her scent filled the room almost immediately, every bit of her filled my senses, I could taste her, smell her, it was drenching me.  I knew, I knew that if I let on that I had such an attraction to her I would be the one embarrassed, turned down again, God it was hard.  Sitting on the same sofa as she was close enough to touch her, get a sense of how she felt by watching the goose bumps rise, watching the tiny hairs stand erect.  My thoughts were going out of control and I could barely keep my composure on many occasions.

Then the moment when the entire world stopped, she spoke first about it, asking if I thought it would be cool to photograph her, in her French lingerie.  Big swallow to keep back the sheer excitement of see here in such a manor, after all not only was I taken with her mind, her ability to travel, but this exquisite woman had just asked if I could photograph her in French lingerie.  Mustering up the courage to speak, I said sure, I would love and be honored to photograph you. The shoot was scheduled for late evening, in a fellow artists studio given the period furniture and surroundings. Seeing her walk down the loft stairs for the first time, my hands began to tremble while holding onto my camera equipment… keep your composure I kept thinking, your daughter and her boyfriend are in the same room!

What I discovered during that shoot, changed me, watching her eyes stare back into mine I kept thinking she is clearly just making love to the camera, her chest heaving up and down, her very quiet sounds of pleasure from being photographed, she was surly just making love to the camera.  Then on one occasion I had to help her move to a different position, taking her hand in mine I realized that her hands were hot, they were not warm from the lights, they were hot!  After that I started looking at her in an entirely different way, my eyes were now looking straight back at hers, hers were looking at mine, in some cases we went through 40 or 50 photographs and our eyes never looked away.  Nor did I want them to.

She was in my studio for three weeks and we talked, had a second photo shoot, we talked about many, many things, I discovered that my attraction for this amazing woman was gaining in intensity.  I had to control myself because I had no idea what she felt, if anything.  On the day of her return to France, I was distracted from how sad and empty it had left me by driving, photographing, contemplating the previous three weeks.  The overwhelming desire to just hear her voice once more was too much, I had to call and say good bye once more.  I ask that she let me know when she got home, he new home. 

We shared a connection that today I cannot explain, those three weeks changed me, I was no longer content living the lie that my life had become.  She saved me in more way then will ever be know to her, or anyone.

Seeing a desperate email about her new living conditions, I tired the unthinkable, I called her in France.  My heart was pounding as her cell phone rang and then she picked up. There it was her voice, upset, in a panic, desperate for human contact, and I was it.  We have spoken nearly every day since her return, she calling for moral support, me calling for the same. To give each other the thing we both needed, unconditional love and mutual admiration for the other.  The conversations grew in length, sometimes even calling each other 3 or 4 times a day talking for hours at a time, about nothing, about everything. We were able to see each other via skype, and it gave us both the sense of closeness. It was a wonderful time, it was the very best of time.

Though in this god awful heat I was desperate to hold her, feel her skin against mine, we both knew that desire was intensifying in the other and we talked often about the desire we had in our hearts to be as one.  We were desperate to embrace, make love, be together.

That was the last several months we had become inseparable in that we could sense the other, feel the others presence and often would be playing the same songs, reading the same materials and making the same physical gestures, never having a clue that the other was doing the same until we talked about our days events.  We came to believe that we were with the other despite the distance, despite the time.

Friday, I had been working in the studio all week and was exhausted from the heat, hungry and needed a shower and at least a few hours of air-conditioning, at least a few.  Friday, need a really good drink as well; it had been a long week.  I showered, and then walked to one of the local eateries.  The air was cool, the food a welcomed sight. I spent a couple of hours enjoying my meal two imported beers and the excitement of the happenings in the bar.  Though she was never far from the main point of my thought, she was always there.

On return to the studio something seemed a bit odd, there was a second set of shoes where I normally sat mine down.  My initial thought was that my studio mate had a photo shoot and it was his guest’s shoes.  I quick text message revealed that he had not scheduled anyone.  Then there it was, I heard a sound coming from the loft, sounded like a delicate giggle.  “Who is up there” I asked in a voice that demanded a reply.  There was none, I hear the sound of someone moving, seemed like someone moving on the bed in my loft.  Struggling to process what I had been hearing the realization that I had given her a key to Studio 3 just after her return to France hit me, could it be true, could this be her?  My heart pounding like it never had in it’s life I ran toward the narrow stair case that lead up to the loft.  The sound becoming louder the closer I came to reaching the loft.

The light in studio 3 was lit now entirely from the lights of Detroit, and as my eyes looked up toward the bed I saw you standing there, tears running down your face, smiling from ear to ear showing me those dimples of yours. You were standing in front of me, completely nude, the light dripping off your body like the paint in one of the old masters paintings.  You standing there hot from the days heat, filled with deep breaths, and your fingers seemingly moving at the excitement of seeing me reach the realization you and I were in the same room.  I could not help but rip my own cloths off the anticipation of putting my arms around you and holding you tight to my chest was over whelming, I began to shake just a bit as I walked toward you, holding out my hands in an effort to close the gap between us faster. 

The moment of contact both of our bodies quiver, I see that you are pleased to see me; you see that I am pleased to see you. For the first few precious moments we do nothing but study the face of the other while giving each other gentle strokes with our hands.  Then our thoughts turn toward every conversation we have had in the last several months and at that time our eyes locked on the others, our faces move closer, and in one powerful moment our mouths open to the others.  Our lips tasting the others, our tongues locked in and endless playful exploration of the others. We had just made our first and very real contact with the other.  In a moment of shock we pulled away, looked at each other and resumed our kiss, this time moving more slowly, feeling our body temperatures rise, feeling the flood of passion reaching every body part, we were about to explode and there was no stopping it.

In a gentle move I guided you over to the bed and helped you lay down on your back, all the while never once breaking our kiss, once laying on the bead, we gently broke our kiss but never letting our faces go far from the others incase the overwhelming desire came over us to restart our kiss further ensuring the both of us that it was real.  The first time we lay naked together, both of us nervous of the others reactions to various things, we spoke about want to do so much for the other and yet we never once considered the possibility that we would get nervous.  A few smiles back and forth, a few musical notes in the form of moans, or a change in pitch in breathing we took to feeling every bit of the other, never speaking a word, only using the music of our moans tell us what direction to go.

You laying on your back me on my side so that I can run my fingers over the entirety of your body, as if it was the reward for months of the torture they had suffered on being able to feel the flat cold display during our skype calls.  My hand trembling as it moved to your face, feeling your nose, running my fingers gently over your lips as you kiss them mid stride.  Using my index finger to feel the your chin, your neck.  The look of pleasure in face begging me to feel the entirety of your body, begin me to move slowing so you could drink up every bit of this new pleasure.  My hands nor extremely hot from the passion building within me you raise your eyebrows at the notion my hands are not touching you and yet you feel the intensity of the heat emanating from them.  No one word spoken yet, just moans of pleasure, the sound of our deep breathes was the only sound in studio 3.  

My hand hovers over your left breast and as I hold it very still I can see the reaction in your body as your nipples become fully erect.  Sheer anticipation of my next move triggers those wonderful nipples to rise as if they were trying to reach my hand, as if they were trying to close the gap between them and my fingers.  I slowly oblige and lower my hand taking as much of your small but perfect breast in my hand, hold on for a moment letting the space between the palm of my hand and your breast disappear allowing me to feel your nipple pressing into my hand, as it fills even further with blood.  On releasing your breast even you are surprised at how engorged your nipple had become increasing the sensitivity beyond what you had been used to.
Taking advantage of this I circle your areola with my index finger, every now and then your eyes beg me to take you nipple in my fingers and squeeze.  The first time I do I can feel your nipple pulse because of the amount of blood being pushed into it, filling it beyond any other moment in your life.  Closing my first and second finger tighter and tighter you moan in both pleasure and the small amount of pain you experience because your nipples are so full.

My hand now moves down to feel you stomach running my fingers across it the small hairs rise as if they are following the path of my finger, your sensations are now at a peak and as I use one finger to trace “I love you” on your stomach the hairs rise and fall spelling out the words. The more my fingers explore you the wetter you become until you scent once again fills studio 3, this time in the loft, thick in the air, filling every pore on my body with the scent of you. Then with out warning and with out losing eye contact, my fingers move in one graceful motion to feel the warmth and throbbing between your legs.  The fluids being released by your body allow me to insert my 1st and middle finger into you with ease and as I do you arch your back and moan with pleasure.  I pull out and you relax your body  only to feel me touching and tugging on your lips, feeling the hood of your clit, a few gentle squeezes bring more pleasure to your body.  Your eyes motion for me to drink as much of you as I can, and I dare not disappoint my Queen.  I move you over on to your stomach, raise your ass in the air and again feel you with my fingers, probing as much of you as I can, then in one swift move you have me on my back and it is your turn to explore me, never allowing me to penetrate you your eyes want it but this first time we need to learn as much about each other bodies as we can so I relinquish control over to you as you discover my body the same way I had yours.  Your fascination with my piercings is even more apparent now that you hold my pines in your hands, fully erect, throbbing, you explore in a playful manor, you look at them, then at you, then at them twisting and turn them.  Then without warning you lower your face over me and take me into your mouth, your tongue traces the shape of my head, you give me small little kisses the length of my shaft, you play with my piercings using your tongue and lips, all the while my fingers continue to pleasure you.

As we continue our experience we notice that the light had changed from the night-lights of Detroit to the sunrise.  We had spent our first night doing nothing but exploring, tasting and getting to know the others body as much as we could.  You tired from your trip and both exhausted from the heat, we fall asleep in a tight embrace…

Creative Collaboration

We have an artistic collaboration that encompasses:

sexuality,
eroticism,
love,
passion
desire,
art,
photography,
and each other...

in other words it's the perfect art collaboration!

..............................

Just found the recording of this on my iPhone from 11/27/10, must have made sense to me then because I took the time to record it.

Body heat

The heat, God the intense heat!  Will it ever subside, will it ever cool off?  I had no idea just how hot it was until we met, that first night standing naked in the window hoping for a breeze to blow though, even a whisper of a breeze would be welcomed.

Standing there my arm around your waist, my chest pushing up against your back, the softness of your breasts brushing my arm bringing a new sensation every-time we moved ever so slightly.  We stood rocking from side to side watching as the crowed went about there lives 3 stories below us, never once suspecting we were there in an embrace so tight we became one.

As I brushed your long hair over to one side it allowed me to see those delicate ears I speak about, allowed me to gently caress the nape of your neck with my lips, the sweet taste of you as we stood in the heat.  My arm wrapped around your waist your arm on top of mine, your fingers exploring every inch of mine.  Slowly touching each knuckle, my finger tips.  My right arm dropped to feel the length of your waist, hip and leg... the soft texture of your skin in the heat, boiling under my finger tips.

We stand there swaying slowly from side to side, watching the night sky as the stars slowly drift though.  A gentile kiss on the side of your neck, my lips exploring your ear, while I whisper "I am here, standing right behind you" a playful tug on your earlobe produces that smile of yours, those dreamy eyes lift up enough to meet mine but then just as quickly drift back to the nights wandering sky.

Standing there slowly swaying from side to side, embraced so tight that the sweat from our bodies forms an immovable suction and we are locked in that position, neither of us mind and we continue some very soft explorations of the other, small areas on can reach without breaking the embrace, without breaking the rhythm of our movement.

My right hand moves to rest on your belly and a small but gentile gesture on my part brings a smile to your face again.  You now exploring my face with your lips, my left ear, my neck, we sway to the rhythm of us, we move according to that rhythm and we breathe each other in with deep breaths, filling our lungs completely.  We sway from side to side never moving but exploring every bit we can without breaking that embrace.

The night comes to an end with the sound of a phone beeping in my ear, my battery was dying and the connection was about to be lost, we were standing there swaying from side to side and I had never left my studio, you were thousands of miles away, we were connected because it was the only way it could be, you were standing in your studio looking out over the nights sky and I was in mine looking out over a bustling city.  Both of us standing there swaying alone, but as one, exploring the other as though we were together.

Whispering in your ear "I am hear with you, I am always with you", you whispering back "I know I feel you here everyday, I see you when my eyes are closed, I feel you when I sleep".  The breathing, the motion, the scent, the taste was all consuming, it was life saving for the both of us.

After the connection was lost I walked over to the sink and grabbed a towel because despite having the air conditioner on full blast I had left a small pool of sweat on the studio floor, glancing up in the small mirror above the sink I noticed several small lips stick marks on my neck.  I could feel you with me, smell your scent in the air.  I could still feel the two of us swaying from side to side in that tight embrace

Never wanting to let go, never getting enough.

A few words on romance

Romance is the thing you do because it makes you feel alive,

There are never guarantees in life and there aren’t in romance,

Romance is the thing you do because it makes someone else feel alive,

A life without romance can be a lonely, spiteful place,

Romance is the thing you do when your heart feels passion for something or someone

Denying romance is just another way of shutting out the thing you’re afraid of, or deserve,

Romance is this crazy mysterious, exhilarating, unpredictable thing,

That for some reason as adults we forget when we mature and become jaded by the world,

Romance is giving some simple gesture with no expectations in return; it is the feeling you get when you receive something with no expectations in return.

Romance does not revolve around sex, maybe a little bit about relationships and who knows if we all were a bit more romantic it might be a much nicer place.  Everyone young and old should be romantic, because without it we are nothing more then tired, heartless, cold, hard-headed, know it all, self entitled, snobby ass, parade pissers.

In my humble opinion it would be much better to romance then piss on someone’s parade.  But hey that’s just me…

And hopeless romantic = eternal optimist...

One guys opinion...

Whats in a rose?

“Dad, dad, are you all right”… I heard… when I opened my eye my daughter was leaning over me with one of her friends standing next to her looking around in a puzzled fashion.  Having a working studio in my home had its advantages, I could spend days at a time on projects undisturbed and my family was used to me focused on projects that I would get lost in them sometimes for long periods of time.   This time around was different however, I had been in my studio for five and half weeks before my daughter came down to check on me.  She was always the concerned on as my wife had lost interest in all of my art and photographic skill a very long time ago, she had her own interests and rarely did the two of ours ever combine.

My daughter on the other hand was just as talented as I am if not more so she would use the studio when she was not distracted with boys, or the bothersome things in life like homework.  But because I would spend so much time, long stints of it on projects and I had a potentially crippling disease my wife installed a closed circuit video monitoring system.  This done because of the persistence of my daughters concern, despite my never ending re-assurances. “Why the hell spend money when we could use the computer camera and the World-link?  Oh wait that’s right I forgot your father has to be different, has to be against…”  “MOM! He needs privacy” my daughter would argue… she was persistent and my wife disgruntled and bitter had a system installed that I would only allow on when I was sure it was not tied to the world link.  Only after a switch was installed so I could turn it off when I needed to.

“Dad!  Snap out of it~” my daughter snipped… “What happened down here?  Where did that rose come from?  Come on sit up here lets get you something to eat” She continued.

As I slowly gained a bit of consciousness I looked around my studio, I could barley recognize it.  Canvas drawings every where, paintings in process, drawing pads filled with sketches all of the same woman, her eyes, mouth, nose body limbs there were thousands of sketches, paintings some complete some in process… I don’t remember, I don’t remember vary much of any of it… I remember a woman coming over for me to photograph her… and at that moment I realized my left hand was in pain, intense pain!  Looking down I was holding a single red rose, so tight it’s thorns had pierced my skin and were buried deep into the palm of my hand and two of my fingers.  My daughters attempt to remove the rose from my hand was successful but the thorns were dug in so deep that they broke off the stem and remain pierced in the flesh of my hand.  “You stay here I am going to get something” my daughter spoke to her friend… When she returned she took my hand and forced my palm to open only to find the thorns had gone and the wounds they created completely healed. 

“Dad, what has happened down here what is going on?” she asked with a tone of seriousness and fright in her voice. 

“She was just here, she was just in the studio!  Breathe in you can still smell her perfume” I blurted.   “Can’t you hear that beat going on, she came in the studio, seems like a long time now, but can’t you hear it? She was just here… this rose, this rose—“I stopped in mid sentence because the rose had fallen onto a canvas that was laying on the floor and when we looked down at it, the rose the deep red rose I had “just” been holding was not now dried and deep black the color had gone from it just as my memory had.  “I can smell some perfume” my daughter’s friend chimed in.  “It smells really good” she finished.   “Don’t worry about that for now lets just get my dad cleaned up I am getting worried about him!”  She went on wiping my face with a wet cloth while her friend walked about looking at all of the work that had been created during the last several weeks.   “This one looks like—would you please just go up stairs and get my dads lunch” my daughter interrupted.  Clearly she was concerned and while I wanted to reassure her that I was ok all I could do was observe her actions as she walked about, fussing with my cloths, wiping paint off of my face, rubbing oil into my chapped hands.

I could hear her talking asking questions, I could sense her frustration with the fact that the only reaction was my eyes following her every move, never taking them off of her.  I could hear the beat in my head, my heart pounding faster and the intensity if the scent tat filled my studio gaining strength with every passing second.  I motioned to my daughter to move the canvas with the rose to a near by table, she knows that when I see something and want to preserve it for a future project to do as I ask without question.  She carefully picked up the canvas moving in slow deliberate fashion to a nearby table being careful not to disturb the rose’s position.  Turning back to me I could see her moving her lips, talking mouthing the words “dad, I am worried about you… I love you” but I could hear nothing but the continued beat of Ginger playing my head.  I tried to respond, I tried to force the voice in me to respond… “I am fine, and I love you too” but nothing came out just my eyes looking back at my daughter, her eyes looking deep into mine.  I had eaten and felt a bit stronger; I slowing got to my feet and gave my daughter a hug as if this would help re-assure her that I was ok.

Before anymore could be said I walked my daughter to the door of the studio gave her a gentle squeeze on her hand and I think, though I am not sure, I smiled at her as I walked back to a canvas where I could breath in the scent, the incredibly captivating aroma that directed me to the canvas I must work on next…

I heard my daughter tell her friend “we need to leave him to finish this work; I am worried I have never seen him this deep into a subject before, we have to check on him often”.  Her voice getting quieter and quieter standing in front of a canvas nearly as tall as I am the image of Ginger looking at that rose… no more voices in my studio I glance up and I am in her presence. The window, the rose on the ledge she is standing in front of me, perfect, still…

“Welcome back I’ve missed you, shall we finish this painting?” she said as she stood in the candle lit room perfectly still, the light shimmering off her smooth skin, the curves of her body visible only when the candle would flicker with a breeze.  Palette and brush in hand I spent what seemed like a life time on this canvas, studying her in every possible way with my eyes, every detail, every inch of exposed skin…

Breathing in deep breaths, realizing that the beat in my head was the gentle whisper of her voice repeating, something though I could not make out the words, it was comforting to finally know that it her voice causing the sound that I could identify it…

Breathing in deep breaths with every brush stroke, the curve of her back as she turned away from me, the hint of a breast she covered with one hand, her hair hanging down in front of her face leaving soft shadows across her neck and shoulder, I was frantic to study every square inch of her for the fear I would look up again and she would be gone, I would be back in my studio…

Breathing deep breaths, as I watched her body move in unison with mine as I breathed in she would as well. As I exhaled she did, as if we were one single point of energy… taking in deep breaths, her scent so mesmerizing, so intensely seductive, her perfect form and the motion of her body with every breath, in unison with the beat playing in my head…

What was she saying?

Breathing in deep breaths…. The candle light flickering my hands moving paint on a canvas, taking in deep breaths in unison with Ginger, in unison with her beat playing in my head, breathing her in deep into my lungs.  My hands painting the perfect woman while the rest of mind and body had been entirely consumed by her scent… by her beauty by her perfectly formed body while we both took in deep breaths, the motion of our lungs were one in the same, her beat playing in my head…

What was she saying?

Her name was Ginger

This maddening affect she has…

It has been several weeks and I find myself becoming more and more immersed in her with every brush stroke. I draw another canvas and her eyes capture my attention they will not let go…

It has been several weeks since our time in the studio and I can somehow feel her presence, I don’t know what it is but my mind spins with thoughts, the brush strokes in an instant are complete and another night has gone.

It has been several weeks and her name was Ginger, she waltzed into my studio like a breath of fresh air and has spurred a creative moment in the history of one painter like the storm of the century… her eyes glance back from a pale white canvas and hold an eternity in them…

Her name was Ginger and the thoughts rushing through my mind while painting her one night like a crazed man …hell who knows maybe I am, maybe this is just one of those wild dreams that you never wake from… painting like a crazed man wanting to know the meaning of her name, Ginger, a spice to be sure, a spice that was so intense that at one time it was considered a drug and regulated… the old days but every name had a meaning!

Ginger what was yours?

This “world link”, used to be called the Internet, now something altogether new, everybody with a video camera pointing at them at every computer… hell not me! I despised them! Privacy, to be alone with my clients in my studio is what they paid a premium for… but Ginger, she waltzed in unannounced asking for a time to be photographed, the obsession started the day after, but her name meant something… the world link gave me the following information:

1 thesaurus results for: Ginger
Roget’s II: The New Thesaurus
Main Entry: spirit
Part of Speech: noun

Definition: A lively, emphatic, eager quality or manner.

Synonyms: animation, bounce, brio, dash, élan, esprit, life, liveliness, pertness, sparkle, verve, vigor, vim, vivaciousness, vivacity, zip

It described her to a “T”!

Her name was Ginger and my studio still smells like her, the obsession began the day after our shoot. I have never seen her during the day and she contacted me only once since to ask about another shoot “if you don’t mind I would prefer a late evening shoot” she said. Stumbling on my words my reply was “I am here to serve you and will arrange my studio for whatever time you need”

Her name was Ginger and when the phone went dead after the conversation was complete, my head started to rush, the thoughts, her eyes, the smell of her wafting through my studio and she had been gone for several weeks. I never knew a mans heart could pound that hard without exploding. Several weeks seemed like an eternity but a night painting her eyes…another night spent staring into her eyes, studying her lips, another long night that will be over in a split second of this eternal obsession…

Her name was Ginger…