Read an Excerpt
Artistically Inclined is dedicated to the Pittsburgh patrons of the arts.
Cyndi wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, leaving a smear of deep red paint across her furrowed brow as she concentrated on the work in front of her. Skirting the large canvas taped to her studio floor and tripping over a pile of stretcher bars in assorted sizes, she lurched toward the computer workstation in the corner. The ever-present clutter reminded her of the need for organization, but the artsy chaos did provide a level of comfort.
The work in progress--commissioned anonymously by a local businessman as a Valentine's Day gift for his lover--throbbed with a sticky sensuality, which made the air in the room feel like a viscous fluid flowing over the exposed skin of her arms and legs. Adding three times the usual amount of acrylic gloss to the mix in order to achieve the desired effect, the textured moiré sheen practically jumped off the canvas to stoke her libido.
As the piece neared completion, Cyndi began to dread parting with it. It had come to symbolize, in her mind, pure passion: the uninhibited, raw, pounding sex that left one dizzy with exhilaration. Although there was nothing particularly explicit about it, the work oozed eroticism. It evoked in her a desire to inhale the heady scent of arousal, to taste sweet silky skin, and to feel the rasp of a hot tongue across her nipples.
Wrenching her eyes away from the painting, Cyndi turned her attention to the oversized monitor and once again read the e-mail message she'd sent just over forty minutes ago: