Pic of the Day
Vid of the day
Excerpt of the day:
This is from "Tuition Fees" available in Into Dark Waters (also available for Kindle)
“Dear little one, show me what you've drawn today." Morgenstern was sitting quietly before the fireplace, a glass of brandy in his hand after Chris finished with his painting and cleaned his brushes. Chris had noticed, weeks ago, that Morgenstern never called him by his name.
He had another landscape done: the crags around the schloss, with Okeleke’s just-blooming roses making a splash of color like fresh blood against the bare and jagged rocks.
“Dear little Goth boy, turning all you see into bleakness and despair." Morgenstern smiled his approval. “How is your painting coming?”
“Acrylics are still going better than oil.”
“Splendid. Do keep at it. Have you tried any human figures lately?”
Chris dug through his work and handed over several sheets, most pencil-work, but one small oil canvas. He watched Morgenstern look them over and nibbled the end of a brush in anxiety.
Morgenstern smiled as he looked at them. There was Marcelo at prayer, his fingers working his rosary. The style of the picture led him to expect a hair shirt or some Inquisition victims in evidence. Here was Li with his test-tubes, looking like a mad scientist under Chris’s skills. Okeleke dug in his garden, but looked more as if he was burying a body than planting the flowers beside him in the wheelbarrow. Morgenstern caught himself looking for a skeletal hand under the peonies. The oil was of Nick, stretched naked on the bed, apparently working on his PDA. The angle of the viewer was from the floor looking up, as if Nick had casually tossed them out of bed, assuming the proper place for a used sex slave was on the floor.
“You have an eye for the morbid, my little artist. It is fashionable now." He tapped Nick’s painting. “Your roommate. It is an unusual angle." Morgenstern looked Chris up and down until he shivered under the appraising eyes. “Has he had you yet?”
Chris swallowed hard. “Had, sir?”
Morgenstern leaned in close, too close. His voice purred seductively, “Has he fucked you yet?”
Chris shivered, from the breath on his ear, the crudity or simply the Professor’s closeness he couldn’t say. “No.”
Morgenstern smiled. “Very good. If you are willing, after dinner, we will have an oil tutoring session. You will not return to your room as virginal as when you left it.”
Chris blinked a few times, stunned by the suddenness of the proposition.
“Problem, little artist?”
Chris smiled. “No, sir." He glanced at the Professor’s package quite obviously before he caught himself.
Morgenstern saw this and smiled. “I will not hurt you, child.”
“I didn't think so." Chris gathered up his materials, seeing time was nearly over.
“Are you willing?" At Chris’s nod, he smiled more broadly. “Very good. I do not force anyone." He watched as Chris made for the door. “And do keep drawing. You have an eye for the shadows." He crooked a finger.
“Thank you, I-” the words died on Chris’s lips as he saw the beckoning. His stomach fluttered when he stepped close to the red velvet sofa.
Morgenstern’s kiss was light, gentle. Chris closed his eyes and sighed into it. When he opened them again, Morgenstern was at the door, opening it. Confusion wrote itself large on Chris’s features and he picked up the portfolio he’d dropped.
“After dinner then,” he managed.
“Indeed." Professor Morgenstern vanished out the door.
Vid of the day
Excerpt of the day:
This is from "Tuition Fees" available in Into Dark Waters (also available for Kindle)
“Dear little one, show me what you've drawn today." Morgenstern was sitting quietly before the fireplace, a glass of brandy in his hand after Chris finished with his painting and cleaned his brushes. Chris had noticed, weeks ago, that Morgenstern never called him by his name.
He had another landscape done: the crags around the schloss, with Okeleke’s just-blooming roses making a splash of color like fresh blood against the bare and jagged rocks.
“Dear little Goth boy, turning all you see into bleakness and despair." Morgenstern smiled his approval. “How is your painting coming?”
“Acrylics are still going better than oil.”
“Splendid. Do keep at it. Have you tried any human figures lately?”
Chris dug through his work and handed over several sheets, most pencil-work, but one small oil canvas. He watched Morgenstern look them over and nibbled the end of a brush in anxiety.
Morgenstern smiled as he looked at them. There was Marcelo at prayer, his fingers working his rosary. The style of the picture led him to expect a hair shirt or some Inquisition victims in evidence. Here was Li with his test-tubes, looking like a mad scientist under Chris’s skills. Okeleke dug in his garden, but looked more as if he was burying a body than planting the flowers beside him in the wheelbarrow. Morgenstern caught himself looking for a skeletal hand under the peonies. The oil was of Nick, stretched naked on the bed, apparently working on his PDA. The angle of the viewer was from the floor looking up, as if Nick had casually tossed them out of bed, assuming the proper place for a used sex slave was on the floor.
“You have an eye for the morbid, my little artist. It is fashionable now." He tapped Nick’s painting. “Your roommate. It is an unusual angle." Morgenstern looked Chris up and down until he shivered under the appraising eyes. “Has he had you yet?”
Chris swallowed hard. “Had, sir?”
Morgenstern leaned in close, too close. His voice purred seductively, “Has he fucked you yet?”
Chris shivered, from the breath on his ear, the crudity or simply the Professor’s closeness he couldn’t say. “No.”
Morgenstern smiled. “Very good. If you are willing, after dinner, we will have an oil tutoring session. You will not return to your room as virginal as when you left it.”
Chris blinked a few times, stunned by the suddenness of the proposition.
“Problem, little artist?”
Chris smiled. “No, sir." He glanced at the Professor’s package quite obviously before he caught himself.
Morgenstern saw this and smiled. “I will not hurt you, child.”
“I didn't think so." Chris gathered up his materials, seeing time was nearly over.
“Are you willing?" At Chris’s nod, he smiled more broadly. “Very good. I do not force anyone." He watched as Chris made for the door. “And do keep drawing. You have an eye for the shadows." He crooked a finger.
“Thank you, I-” the words died on Chris’s lips as he saw the beckoning. His stomach fluttered when he stepped close to the red velvet sofa.
Morgenstern’s kiss was light, gentle. Chris closed his eyes and sighed into it. When he opened them again, Morgenstern was at the door, opening it. Confusion wrote itself large on Chris’s features and he picked up the portfolio he’d dropped.
“After dinner then,” he managed.
“Indeed." Professor Morgenstern vanished out the door.
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