Stories for Amanda

by Amanda Todd Foundation

  Even the most unsophisticated observer could see the emotion in Mallerton’s work. It’s the thing that had attracted me to him when I began my studies. And that rare talent was what had made him famous in his lifetime and still today nearly two hundred years later.

  Two hundred years, two years. They might as well be the same thing. A lot could change in just two years…

  I tried not to think about what I’d lost, but my self-imposed loneliness got the better of me sometimes, and I desperately longed for what Mrs. Gravelle had in her painting.

  “I found you,” a smooth voice said behind me.

  I turned to see who was speaking to me and got an eyeful of beautiful. The man before me was six feet plus of dark, lean and sexy with green eyes the color of my dress. He flashed me a smile that could only be described as wicked.

  “Are you sure you were looking for me?” He appeared to have money because I’d bet my extravagant new gown, that the tux hanging off his fine form was most certainly bespoke. No doubt about it. Was he a patron in need of a gallery tour? A large contributor VIP?

  “Oh yes, it’s definitely you,” he purred, “the beauty in the green dress.” He leaned forward. Close but not touching, his face tilted toward my neck. I backed up. He followed… until I was pressed against the wall. “And they were so right,” he said in his silky voice.

  “Right about what?” I asked, mesmerized by his features and his delicious scent, totally overpowered by how close he was to me. My God, he smelled good. “Um… d-did you want the standard t-tour?” I stuttered, amazed that coherent words were even forming from my lips.

  “Mmm hmm,” he said, nodding slowly, drawing his gaze up my neck, “I definitely want your tour.”

  Why are you speaking like that to me? I was clearly at a disadvantage in this situation. Something weird was going on. Who was this Greek god trapping me against the wall, looking like he wanted to devour me? And was it bad that the thought of him actually doing some devouring made a long shiver roll down my back?

  Mr. Gorgeous didn’t appear to be in any hurry, his green eyes tracking over my body, roving over everything they could see.

  I swallowed hard.

  “Who—who was it that sent you to find me, ah… mister—?”

  “—Ivan. Didn’t you get the text from the service?” He inhaled and moved a fraction closer, just staring with a confident half-smirk on his face. “You’re definitely who I’m supposed to meet tonight. Eight o’clock it said, and wearing a green dress, which by the way, is very… very… nice.” The last three words were spoken slowly as his eyes raked up my dress until he landed somewhere around my lips.

  “Eight o’clock,” I repeated dumbly, overwhelmed by his maleness, and his friggin’ gorgeous… everything, to the point I had apparently lost the ability to carry on a conversation.

  Wait, what service?

  “So you are Mr. Ivan and you want me to give you the tour?” I said, a tad too sarcastically, wanting to slap myself for the ignorance that kept spouting out of my mouth.

  I was in utter and complete bewilderment of what was going on with him though.

  I knew for a fact I hadn’t been informed about any VIP named Mr. Ivan needing a contributor’s tour tonight during the gala. But clearly that’s what he was expecting, standing there looking like a man who was very sure of what he wanted. I couldn’t just say no and blow him off. That would be incredibly rude and possibly get me into trouble with the university. And that was the thing with VIPs. They tended to be less predictable and often just showed up, expecting special treatment. Their deep pockets were what kept the charities going though, and offending a big donor was a big no-no.

  He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes just a bit, his brow wrinkling for an instant. “Call me that if you wish, I don’t mind, and yes, I want whatever you have planned for me.” He brushed back his hair with a hand and held it there gripping at the back of his neck, his elbow coming up and framing me in even more. “I’m ready to begin if you are.” He smiled.

  Whatever I had planned for him? I had nothing planned. I had no idea why any of this conversation between us was even happening. I knew nothing. Well, I knew one thing—I couldn’t take my eyes off his hair.

  Mr. Ivan’s hair was dark and straight, worn deliciously long in the European style, hitting just where his broad shoulders met his neck. I wanted to touch.

  He’d been blessed in more ways than just his wallet. An alien perhaps?

  “All right,” I said carefully, swallowing hard again, and wondering just how the next thirty minutes were going to go with the each of us staring and speaking in some kind of mysterious code. “Where would you like to start, Mr. Ivan? What interests you the most?”

  He offered his arm, which I accepted and let him lead us down the hallway.

  “Beauty interests me right now.” He looked down at me and smiled darkly, his lips slightly parted and my arm tucked firmly under his.

  It interests me too. “Well, there is plenty of that here to show you,” I said.

  “I thought so.” He stopped us at a door. “I can’t wait to see it all and experience it for myself.”

  He opened the door and led me inside a darkened anteroom. Various works in progress of restoration and archival rooms were down this way. I was about to ask him if he wanted a tour of the conservationist wing when he shut the door and pressed me back against it. “Bloody perfect,” he mumbled.

  “What—?” was all I managed to get out before he took my face in his hands, slammed his mouth down over mine and started kissing me.

  ~~~~

  My “date” was interesting tonight. Sexy as all get-out but mysteriously illusive with what sounded to be an American accent. And so damn beautiful my eyes were stinging.

  We really needed to get this party started, and we couldn’t very well just stand here in a quiet gallery hallway mentally undressing each other now could we? That would be wholly inappropriate and someone was bound to come by and see eventually.

  I don’t usually go in for public shags but was far too gone in attraction to my “tour guide” to care very much. I’m a man of action. Give me a problem and I will do my damndest to find a solution.

  Like right now for instance: Where can I find a place to get Maria alone and see what she’s got hidden beneath her sexy gown?

  Was Maria really her name? I tried to remember the text I’d received, and thought I was right, but details like that slip my mind consistently. I was however, well aware that escorts didn’t like for clients to use their working names anywhere where somebody might hear.

  I always followed the rules with the ladies, still shocked that this beautiful creature was even an escort in the first place, and not a model for Vogue or Harper’s. She could be, in a heartbeat.

  A door appeared in front of me, so I opened it and brought her in with me. Dark, empty, private. “Bloody perfect,” I said.

  I pressed her up against the door and took her face in my hands. Her eyes were a stunning dark green, almost the same color as mine were, but I just had to get to know that luscious mouth of hers first.

  I could look into her eyes once we were shagging in a few, and I planned on it.

  I wanted a taste of those lips mostly, and then I’d move on to other parts. I knew what I was doing and I was totally confident she did too.

  “What—?” she murmured, just as I descended. Time for talking is over, sweetheart.

  When I covered her mouth with mine and got a good taste, something switched on inside me and I sort of lost my normally maintained control.

  I just wanted to savor and kiss and touch and get lost in her for a while.

  She froze at first and sucked in a breath, but then she seemed to soften and go with the program, and started to kiss me back. She tasted like a delicious wine I couldn’t seem to get enough of, so I just delved deeper and held her firmly.

  It took a moment, but I felt her response grow to the point where her hands got into the acti
on and buried in my hair. Once that started happening I knew everything was good. We had chemistry together and I was sure of one thing—I’d be getting Maria’s number so I could see her again.

  I moved a hand down to sweep under her skirt and slid my palm up her thigh and right between her legs. I felt lace.

  And a bundle of hot, sexy female.

  “Ahhh…” she moaned, standing up on her toes and throwing her head back when I touched her. I moved my mouth to her throat and down the deep neckline of her dress. My fingers dove under the lace of her knickers and found my target, skimming back and forth where it counted.

  That she was totally turned on and primed for action, was never in question. I had the proof of that all over my fingers.

  This goddess in my arms, wearing that dress I wished I could strip her out of was about to come on me. Fucking hot.

  I gripped her face with my free hand and brought her back to face me. “Open your eyes.”

  She complied instantly, her lashes flipping up and revealing those green beauties I’d admired earlier. Her breathing was coming in heavy pants now. Time to hit a bull’s-eye with Miss Maria, I decided.

  I moved two fingers into position and buried them inside her. In the same moment I seized her mouth and impaled myself there too. She was totally mine to conquer and I relished the control in moments like this. I was all about control when it came to sex.

  I matched the stroking of my fingers, with the pace my tongue was keeping, and in no time I had her riding the wave of an orgasm as she rode my hand.

  I swallowed her tensing cries with my mouth, and slowed everything down for her until she was completely melted against the door, fighting for breaths.

  Mission accomplished.

  “God, you’re beautiful.” She widened her eyes and focused on me, a look of utter satisfaction simmering in them as she breathed against the door. What I wouldn’t give to have her in my bed right now. I moved my fingers slowly out, retreating carefully from her body. She gasped softly and rolled with my movements, coming down from the rush to stand on her own again. Her head was slightly tilted and resting on the back of the door. My hand still on her face, I lowered it down to her shoulder, caressing as I went.

  “My turn.”

  Her eyes flared at me in the dim light for an instant, as if she were considering my request, but the afterglow of pleasure boiling in her eyes told me she was very into what we were doing. We were just getting started on where I planned for this to go.

  She sighed in contentment and dropped down to her knees gracefully before me, her fine hands reaching forward to work on opening my trousers. She pulled out my shirt and found my cock, which was more than ready to meet her pretty mouth. I couldn’t hold back the groan that came out of me and closed my eyes in anticipation.

  It had been a while and I was definitely going to enjoy this.

  When she touched me I thrust into her hand. She gripped around the shaft and stroked, pulling me closer. I felt the softness of her tongue slide over the tip of me and welcomed the hot burn of pleasure.

  My fantasy lover was just getting into the groove, and doing a superb job I might add, when our timing went to complete shit.

  The emergency light above the door began to twirl a flashing red paired with a siren wail of ear-deafening decibels. Over all of that, the loudspeaker announcement demanded the building be exited immediately for safety precautions.

  Well, damn, this certainly sucked.

  Or not.

  Maria was off me and out the door, before I could get myself tucked back into my trousers.

  By the time I managed to stumble out of our little love nest, she was nowhere to be seen, but Ethan was sprinting down the hallway.

  I ran for it, coming up behind him. He turned back and saw me.

  “Bomb threat. That’s what this is.” He gestured to the flashing lights. “Everyone’s being evacuated.”

  I just exploded in anger, unbelieving that someone would hate me so much they would blow up a museum to get to me. Disgruntled fan or not, an act of terrorism was way out of bounds. “Are you fucking kidding me?! All this because of me?”

  “I don’t know details. I was out having a smoke when the alarm went off. Neil said in-house security got a bomb threat called in and they’re closing everything down. We’ll sort it later. Just get the fuck out!”

  So that’s what I did.

  I looked for Maria but I never found her in the crush of people swarming the front steps of the National Gallery. I thought I saw her at one point because there was a woman wearing a similar color green dress, but she was blonde and not the fiery goddess I’d been with in that room earlier.

  Pity. I would have asked her home with me and paid double for her services without a second thought. Maria was definitely worth it.

  Some more G & T’s and a session with her would’ve topped off my evening just perfectly. I texted Ethan to let him know I was leaving and to ring me when he had a chance. As I drove home to my solitary existence I wasn’t content and I certainly wasn’t satisfied.

  I felt pretty much like shit and there were plenty of other reasons for that, unfortunately. The only nice thing to happen tonight had been the encounter with a beautiful creature whose sexy scent was still clinging to my hand.

  I really needed to find her again.

  ~~~~

  Donadea

  County Wicklow, Ireland

  5th August

  “YOU’RE just not telling me anything I want to hear right now, Paul. Sorry, but no. I need this shit out of my goddamned house and I need it gone now!” The pause from him was to be expected, and I was more than used to it. In fact, this kind of reaction from others was pretty damn typical. I bark, and people move. Things get done the way they’re supposed to and the way I want.

  Waiting for Paul Langley to respond on the other end of the line though, made me impatient and I started tapping the top of my desk.

  I studied the worn oak grain of the wood and realized something I’d never really thought about before. My ancestors must have sat here at this same desk. Even as far back as maybe two hundred years ago I suppose, but that didn’t change the fact that it was still just a desk. A useful piece of furniture. A tool to be used rather than just on display as a formal antique appreciated only for its aesthetic value. “Hello? You still there?”

  “I wouldn’t call it shit, Ivan.”

  “Right. Let me rephrase that for you then. Paul, would you please get someone over to my house capable of archiving the very valuable shit I have an abundance of. A graduate student perhaps? There must be someone who needs a job. The papers tell of gloom and doom for the pissing economy. A starving artist? Work with me here, Paul. I do plenty for your organization and you know it.”

  Paul sighed heavily into the phone. “I’ll see what I can do. There may be a possible candidate, but I’m not sure. The student I’ve in mind has been through a rough patch lately.” He hesitated before letting me have it. “And you aren’t the easiest person to… ah… work for.”

  “Are you trying to tell me I’m an arsehole, Paul?”

  Paul laughed softly. “Yes. And I couldn’t pass up that chance to tell you either.”

  “Nothing new there. Right. Good. So offer them a big pile of my money. I pay well. Get someone over here to do the job and you’ll get your usual toward the philanthropic health of the arts and all that crap, and I won’t be drawn and quartered for letting priceless paintings go to rot.”

  Paul muttered something about expecting a bigger donation cheque this year if he managed to find someone for me. “See that you do and you just might,” I told him as we ended the call.

  I looked out the window. The landscape of Donadea was stunning in all its green lushness—hills and dales dotted with trees contrasting against the blue skies above. Too bad I didn’t have the heart to enjoy it much. Not anymore.

  I’d loved coming here as a kid even after mum died. The best times of all had been the long break
s in summer. Riding, driving, fishing, time at the lake, picnics. It had been magical. A place to forget the harsh bustle of London and all the responsibilities that came with this blasted life I’d inherited. But Viviana had taken even the peace of this sanctuary from me. Now Donadea just reminded me of all that I didn’t have, which was symbolic for why I wanted this placed cleared out.

  The time had come to let the past go.

  I left my study and walked across the west wing of the house to the portrait gallery. The walls were filled. There was too much here. It needed to be sorted and some maybe sold, donated, or stored for preservation even. I thought of the ironic twist of fate that had left me as caretaker of such goods. An art collection to rival the best in the world and I knew next to nothing about it.

  My uncle, the eighth Baron Rothvale, had not been much better, and my father had certainly not cared about any of the artwork for the short time he’d been at the helm of this slow leaking vessel. No, the paintings in this house had been neglected for a great many decades and they were due some greatly needed attention. Even my ignorant arse knew that.

  My thoughts were that I could get this project started and then leave the expert to finish it. I shouldn’t have to stay here for long, besides I had work in London that required me there regardless.

  I told myself this was the reason I’d come here. But who was I fooling? This time of year was always the same. I had to get away from everything that reminded me of her and this was the only place I had left to go where that was even possible.

  ~~~~

  One week later

  I didn’t like this. The sun was starting to set and I might as well admit to myself that I was lost.

  Really lost.

  The perfect metaphor for just about everything in regards to my life.

  I pulled to the side of the road and looked at the directions I’d printed out from my computer. Trouble was, this was a huge estate and most of the roads were unmarked, meandering peacefully in all directions over the rolling green. The GPS that came with the rental wasn’t worth a damn in places like this. It was likely to have me driving over a cliff if I depended on it.