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“You mean I didn’t have to stay for the full five hours?”
His sorry expression morphs into one of guilt. I bare my teeth at him and he swallows audibly.
“But aren’t you glad you did? You’ve created something wonderf—oh—kay.”
“What? Don’t you like it?” I ask innocently, batting my eyelashes for good measure.
“Umm, it’s certainly unique, Kayla. Next week will be interesting, for sure.”
“Why?”
“Because next week we share the artwork created today in the next therapy session, and together we analyse the emotions behind your art.”
I stare at my half peeled banana skin with a dick protruding from it, beautiful Jacob’s Ladder piercing and all. What was Ifeelingwhen I drew this? I dunno. Maybe hungry, maybe horny. Whatever. You won’t find deeper emotion in there because I’m only capable of feeling rage with a side of stabby and screwy. In the shagging sense, although Idohave a screw loose, too, according to several therapists I unalived.
“Psycho-analyse my dick.”
“The last one to leave the art studio has to clean up.”
“Sucks to be you.”
“Actually, I have to go meet with Doctor Seytan, so that’ll be you, Kayla.” A low growl rumbles from my chest and Danny jumps like he’s been whipped. “Sorry! Or I can do it when I’m done…”
That’s more like it.
I plaster a sickly sweet smile on my face as I watch the single bead of perspiration slide down his forehead.
“Don’t worry about it, Danny. I’m happy to do it for you today, but you’ll owe me, right?”
He nods like a dashboard dog.
“Of course! Anything you want. Anytime. Just say the word.”
“Thanks Danny, I knew I could count on you. Best get going, I wouldn’t want you to be late for your meeting with Satan.”
He chuckles, blushes, and scarpers over to the lift in double-quick time, stabbing the elevator call button a half dozen times like that will somehow get him out of here faster.
“Looking forward to next week, Danny!” I call as he escapes and the doors slide shut.
Fuck cleaning. I’m not a fucking maid. But I will take the opportunity of being left alone to explore a little. Starting with the view.
Fuck-all to see. Even on a beautiful clear day like today, there’s no land in sight. How did I get here? Wish they hadn’t roofied me so I could remember. Fucking cunts.
None of the windows open, and the glass is far too thick to ever break.
Fine.
Plan B, find another escape. Surely they must let us out at some point? And they must have supplies delivered at least.
Oh well, as I’m here I may as well see what Ghost was so keen to hide from me earlier. I walk over to his covered easel and rip the cloth away with a flourish.
Underneath, I see a painting that takes my breath away. It’s a portrait of a woman, naked and reclined on a bed. Her skin is a pale, creamy white, and her long bright red hair spills over the edge of the mattress. Her eyes are closed, and her lips are parted as though she’s lost in ecstasy.
The painting is so realistic that I feel like I could touch the woman’s skin and feel the warmth radiating from her body. It’s so sensual that I feel a flush creeping up my neck. This woman looks a lot like me, minus the tattoos, but way more…everything.
BEG FOR ME, LITTLE PET
‘UNDERNEATH THE MASK’ – ROYAL & THE SERPENT
