Chapter One, Untitled

I really don't know what to do with this, so I'll just put it up chapter by chapter on this site. It doesn't even have a name. And, it's not edited.
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It was around 3am, when I came home from dancing. I was leaning on the door, as my boyfriend at the time was pressed up against me. He was kissing my neck, when someone opened their apartment door. He was wearing a paint splattered tshirt and khakis, when he saw Grant and myself against the door.
Grant was kissing the hollow of my neck, when he started a trail on the side of my neck.
One of my hands was on the doorknob, while the other was running through his sandy blonde hair.
"I think that should be done on the other side of your door," the man said.
Grant continued kissing my neck, when I opened my eyes and saw a tall, brunette man with a cigarette dangling from mouth, looking at us. He continued kissing my neck, as I turned away and opened my door. He couldn't take his hands off me, pinching there or grabbing here. After finally getting the door opened, I looked at the other guy, then dragged Grant in and shut the door behind us.


The next day, Grant left the apartment in some jeans and a tshirt, while I was standing against the doorway wearing a long tshirt. As soon as Grant disappeared down the stairs, I saw the other guy walk into the hallway holding a thick hard bound book. He was wearing a big grey sweater with a white shirt and tie peeking out and dark slacks, with another cigarette dangling from his mouth. I looked at him. He saw Grant pass by, then he turned and smiled at me, taking the cigarette out of his mouth.
"Good morning."
"Morning." I said.
I was about to close the door, when he got my attention.
"It's obvious that you're new around here. There's this great downtown diner. I was wondering if you would like to go for breakfast before work?"
I stood there, then looked at him.
Pause.
He seemed safe.
I nodded.


An hour later, we sat at a diner booth finished with our breakfast. I had an orange juice and pancakes covered with maple syrup, while he had a cup of black coffee and an omelet.
"So, tell me, what were you doing leaving your apartment at 3:20?"
By this time, I learned a few things about this other guy. His name was Clark Falner. He was a Leo. An architect. Boring, getting to know you information that dropped from his lips. Who knows? He could have lied the whole time.
"To think about what I could fill a frame with."
"Oh? Do a little photography on the side?", I said.
"No. Painting."
He raised his hand and got the attention of our waitress, who came over and took out her notepad from her pocket. She added it up, then set it down on the table.
"I could show you some of them, if we meet here after work," he added.
Pause.
I nodded.
He took out his wallet, looked at the bill, dropped down the money, then we got up and walked out of the diner.
"You don't mind a little company? Just in case, you know, some character bothers you and you need a super-hero," he joked.
I laughed and said, "If you want."
"OK, great."


The office was around the corner of the diner, but I still arrived ten minutes late.
Clark was standing there under the awning, looking a little anxious. When he saw me, he took the cigarette from his mouth, then tossed it out onto the ground and stepped on it.
I came up to him and he gave me a quick look over while exhaling smoke.
"Ready?"
I nodded.
He walked off and I followed him to his car parked on the sidewalk. He fished his keys from his pocket and opened the passenger door. I moved in and sat down on the seat and closed the door, as he moved around and opened his door. He came in, put his keys in the ignition, shut his door, then drove off.


The studio was roomy. It smelled of candles and paint and everything else in between. The lone table had a sketchboard on top of it half filled with a rough outline. There were easily twenty snuffed out white candles surrounding the sketch board.
He saw me looking at the table, as he lit up another cigarette.
"Purely atmosphere."
I see...
"Come here. I want you to see something. It's one of my favorites." he added.
I looked at him, as he walked over to one corner of the room where a huge canvas was veiled by a green sheet.
"Close your eyes," he continued.
I closed my eyes, as he pulled down the sheet.
"Ready," he continued.
I opened my eyes and saw the portrait.
A young blonde woman dressed in a peach peasant blouse and a white ankle-length skirt, holding a little child in her arms and sitting on a stool.
I moved closer to the painting and gazed over every inch of it.
"That's a very beautiful portrait."
"It's a portrait of Miranda, my ex-wife."
I looked at him. He looked mildly bothered, while blowing smoke out of his mouth, but I shrugged it off and asked him anyway.
"What happened?"
"Oh, nothing tragic. She left me for another guy. By the way, the child in the portrait is a nephew, when he was just born. If it wasn't for her," he stopped mid-sentence realizing he was talking in a mildly irritated tone.
I kept quiet.
"Enough of my babbling. Like it?"
I nodded.
Clark tossed the sheet back over it, then walked away. I just stood there, as he walked over to the refrigerator.
"Want something to drink?", he asked.
I turned away from the painting, then looked at him and nodded.
"Name it. It's here. My friend keeps it well stocked. He lends me the place thinking, since I paint, that I seduce gorgeous women all the time. How can I, when there's no place to sleep?"
Pause.
"I'll be fine with anything you're drinking," I said.
He nodded and opened the refrigerator door, surrounded by his smoke.
I sat down on the bench in the middle of the room and looked around. Next to the refrigerator, there was a counter with a sink in it. Four spaced apart windows looked out over downtown. The closed door turned out to be the bathroom door. Several paintings were hung up with or without frames. There were several light fixtures around the room. The other furniture included two stools, a plain wood-paneled screen, a telephone, a stereo, a table with a box underneath and television on top of it, and a huge couch.

A few minutes passed before he walked back over with two Coke bottles. He had one glass with ice cubes, which he handed to me with a bottle. I set the glass on the bench, as he sat down near me. His cigarette was almost out, which he noticed. Clark got up and moved to the couch, where he had more room and the ashtray was located. He put out his cigarette, then took a sip of his bottle. He was watching me, when I finished emptying my drink and swung my head his way. Clark had a new cigarette in his mouth. He took the cigarette out of his mouth, then set it on the ashtray. After blowing out the smoke, he took another sip of his drink, swallowed, set the bottle in front of the couch, then took off his sweater and started undoing his tie. He had his tie undone, when he dropped it on the floor. He unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt, then ran his hand through his dark hair. Clark picked up his cigarette and resumed smoking.
I picked up my glass and got up, walked over and sat down on the couch near him.
"Just out of curiosity. Have you ever seduced anyone in here?", I asked.
He took the cigarette from his mouth and exhaled the smoke, He laughed, before leaning down and picking up his drink.
He took another sip and swallowed, then said, "It's been so long since a woman's been near me. I'm convinced that women just don't find me very attractive. I'm probably the only guy who didn't go through that period of sleeping with every willing woman I could find, as soon as I was divorced."
Pause.
"Oh, in case you're wondering, the other extreme had crossed my mind a few times--Desperation will do that to a person--But, it's a complete turn off when I catch a guy ogling me," he continued, then quickly added. "Celibacy has been a way of life for, easily, four years. Of course, a lot of porn helps in that department. I've accumulated quite a collection."
A laugh came out of me at this point.
I looked down at the glass in my hand and finally took a sip.
Clark smiled at me, then put his cigarette back in his mouth.


The whole night, he didn't try to lay a hand on me. We sat on the couch and chatted all night. He was a perfect gentleman, although he did show part of his collection in the box under the table.
It was midnight, before he took me home.
When we got home, we were opening our doors and laughing.
As soon as his door was open, he looked at me.
"That probably didn't count as a date, but do I still kiss you goodnight?", he said.
I looked at him and laughed again then shook my head.