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By now, he was about two feet from me. As he bent down to pick my car keys, I caught a glimpse of his eyes. They almost matched the hat. Standing again, Elijah extended his hand in greeting and offered me my keys at the same time.
“I’m Elijah Fillmore. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Gina Blake,” he said as he shook my already extended hand.
“I know who you are,” I said to myself, almost in disbelief that he was right in front of me, blushing to myself at the same time.
“I know this is not what you expected. However, I have a little surprise for you inside,” he said sternly, almost authoritatively, but calm enough to calm my nerves. I could feel his left hand almost tapping my back as his right hand motioned me to follow him into the warehouse.
“Where are you from, Gina?” he asked me as we walked towards the warehouse.
“I’m from Maine, right by the ocean.”
Elijah had a lopsided smile that lit up his whole face. “What a coincidence. I also grew up by the ocean too. Learned surfing when I was thirteen years old,” he said almost to himself. He was in total control. I could feel the energy around him being transmitted to me, and I grew to like it instantly.
“Your profile said you were an artist.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Well, I have a job for you,” he explained as he opened the warehouse door to lead me in.
There were wall-sized canvases inside, hundreds of them all empty waiting to be painted. My heart was exploding with excitement. This was what I wanted to be doing with my life, painting. And here he was, offering me what I couldn’t refuse. Paint brushes, paints of different colors lay all over the floor. This was heaven for me.
Elijah noticed my excitement but said I could only paint on the canvases if I agreed to do a special painting with him first. He took my hand in his, leading me to the middle of the warehouse to show me what he had in mind.
Chapter Four - Elijah
I took Gina’s hand in mine, leading her deeper into the warehouse. The softness of her hand in mine when my skin came into contact with hers was divine. Ever since I read from her profile that she was an artist, I had this fantasy that we’d do a painting together, naked. I wasn’t sure she’d agree to paint with me, but I decided it was worth a try after seeing her in person.
Gina easily followed my lead deeper into the warehouse. This turned me on. She was submissive and let me take control of everything. I liked being in control. I fed off of it. She hadn’t objected to anything I had proposed. The girl seemed calm and relaxed. It was natural for her. I really liked that. Unlike most experiences I had with women before this meeting, my experience with Gina didn’t seem rehearsed. Everything unfolded naturally. She wasn’t trying too hard to be someone she wasn’t. She was herself.
Gina was everything I wanted in a woman. Outgoing, beautiful, but also reserved in her own way. The way her smile lit up the warehouse when she saw the canvases, the way her big blue eyes touched my soul every time she turned to look at me, the way she talked, the way she walked and carried herself with demeanor. Oh my God, she was heaven-sent. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. No, I couldn’t. I had always hoped to find a woman I could look at, see myself settling down and starting a family with. Gina was not just a beautiful woman but a woman of substance. A woman who’d seen and lived through a life that was different from mine. A life she could inspire our children with. Maybe this was my opportunity to turn my social life around, plus my whole view about women. Maybe she was the change I needed in my life. Maybe.
From the moment I saw her getting out of her car, I knew this was going to be a memorable day. Gina was dressed simply but elegantly. Her choice in her outfit spoke volumes. She knew exactly how to compliment her sexy body; I could quickly tell she was confident. I loved confident women.
“You’re full of surprises, Elijah,” she remarked as we made our way past all the canvases and brushes that lay scattered on the floor.
Elijah? She called me Elijah. Most women I had been with didn’t dare call me by my first name. For some reason, they just called me ‘Mr. Fillmore’. I kind of got used to being addressed as ‘Mr. Fillmore’. Hearing her call me by my first name turned me on. Her voice was soft, soothing. I couldn’t help but imagine what her moans would sound like. The thought of taking her virginity never left mind, not for a second.
