His Obsession

Chapter 2

Poppy P.O.V.

Okay, maybe I should have taken those comments about staring at him more to heart than I did but the past is the past. He finally broke the intense staring contrast and his eyes darted abc over his guests, and finally oxygen busts back into my lungs. It felt like I could breathe again for the first time in several minutes, like his eyes staring into mine and noticing every detail about me suddenly had sucked the very air out of the room. Then, like a punishment only we knew about his eyes lingered back onto me, his eyes raking over my body and taking note to every little detail about me while I tried to focus on the conversation between me and another guest.

I had watched him, our eyes staring into each other across the room with hundreds of people in between. I watched, unable to take my eyes off of him as he analyzed the guest for the third time, assessing them almost and with the furrow of his eyebrow or pulsating of his temple vein and he was on to the next guest. It was difficult at first, trying to study someone that I resented. Then it became harder to trying to analyze and study someone that ahs spent years of his life to being impenetrable, unmoving and cold in every action that he took.

His eyes, hovered over the male population more than the females which was odd, almost. He has spent years being known as the most available bachelor within all of the celebrities and rich people and at his own party he came barely take the time to even look at the women? I watched as he made some sort of decision about each individual, scanning them like they were some ripe fruit at grocery store before he found a way that they would benefit him. It was maddening and infuriating watching him as he made each person here his own victim to whatever his scheme was, their own identity thrusted down to whatever his need was for them.

How can you loath and be interested in someone at the same time? It was easier to hate the man through the comfort of my iphone but now seeing him in person, I was consumed by his intensity.

My painting, ‘Devour’ hung as a backdrop amongst the sea viewers, one of the many reasons that they all showed up tonight. She has been one of my best works come to life as she pulsed with life and something so much darker, something that I couldn’t quite explain even as I had to make my authors note.

‘Devour’ has been one of my darker works while I was away on one of my artist retreats on Lake Michigan, a small getaway house that I bought to be closer to nature and away from all the noise. Devour pulsed with life in shades of crimson, wine and dark black as they swirled together outlining the shape of a naked women, bringing together the raw animalistic desires that danced within this very room. The painting was a symbolism, an idea of a dark, almost desperate desire that every single one of us has, but is to embarrassed- to ashamed to admit. Devour is the physical representation of our most animalistic desires coming to life, each angle of the woman on the canvas changing from the angle you look at her.

I worked my way through the room after Damiano finally let me breathe again, my escape tethered to his distraction. I snaked my way through the bodies of people in the wine colored dress, there is a thigh high slit to show off my long pale legs, a cat-eye neckline to showcase my c-cup chest and a beautiful corset to suck everything into the right place. The wine color contrasted perfectly with my green eyes and dark auburn hair that flowed elegantly down my back.

The version of me that picked out this dress is the complete opposite version of me at this party right now. The version of me that picked out this dress and got ready for thai party wanted to stand out, she wanted to be a direct reflection of her art- complete s*x appeal, but what does a virgin know about s*x appeal?

Everything about this dress made me stand out against the crowd of dully grey suits and sparkly dress dresses that seemed to cover every corner of the room. I did my make up boldly with a black cat eye and red lipstick, my face covered in foundation and blush. I choose to wear the dress with matching heels, highlighting my long legs. I have high cheek bones and soft feminine features that compliment my doe eyes unlike half the woman that are here with face-lifts and botox.

Anybody can be hot with the right type of cash these days and the woman here were no stranger to the concept of ‘beauty is pain’. I’m half convinced that is why half the older women that are here are throwing there acceptable-aged daughters at any rich man that they can find with the hopes that they will spend their days using their daughters as a cash cow while they lay somewhere on the beach.

The conversations with the gentlemen, I want to say were interesting but I wasn’t there for half of it. I know that the original topics to a few gentlemen were interesting but the second I smiled or laughed at a comment or joke the men magically needed to ‘go get a drink’ and then I was stuck feeling his intense gaze like I did something wrong.

Most of the time I wasn’t even needed for the conversations with any of these ‘gentlemen’, I use the term loosely.They were more than happy to let you know everything about there life and there many ‘s****l conquest’ which I would inform them that my piece of art is for sale and then they would bid on it. I occasionally asked about someone’s life and made the mistake of learning about every transgression they have with every single person at this party, but men just boast about their life.

That was the beauty about this tension between me and mister Moretti, the men that kept walking up to me were more than happy to have a conversation with me or get me a drink which infuriated him. I know it infuriated him because I would have a server bring me a drink anytime I laughed at a comment and magically never see them again.

Obsessed much?