[Kachi]: 373.Modern Fantasy.Caria's Painting

Caria's Painting

  The water in the glass turned an interesting shade of brown as the paint from Caria's brush flowed into it, and she sighed as she watched the reds, greens and blues blend together. Now she would have to change the water again, or risk dirtying her watercolour.
  She glanced up at her model and was gratified to see that he was still laying peacefully and as she had left him, the two red marks in his neck barely visible now. He was so beautiful, she couldn't resist painting him. It was only a shame that she had to exhaust him first.
  In one fluid movement she grasped the glass and rose from her stool, her long dress making a faint swishing sound as she breezed past the sleeping, naked man, through a door and tipped the water into the sink of the kitchen.

It was as she was rinsing the glass that she heard his first faint sigh. Ah, so he stirs. With great care, she filled the glass again and walked back to what she affectionately referred to as her 'painting room'.
  The man was looking around himself with sleepy green eyes, his expression a mixture of confusion and tiredness. "Wh... where am I?"
  Here comes the best bit, she thought, a faint smile curving her glossed lips. "You're awake!" Her voice affected a tone of relief. "I had been worried." The blank look he gave her amused her. "You don't remember?" She left her voice rise in pitch, as if surprised.
  "No... I, I don't." He pushed himself up into a sitting position and looked around the almost-bare room. When he saw his clothes neatly folded beside a beautifully decorated wooden screen, his eyes widened.
  "Well, it was quite a fall you'd had..." She looked down at the polished wooden floor for a moment, then turned the full force of her brown-eyed gaze upon him, letting herself be momentarily elated by the slight gasp he made as his stare met the intensity of her own. "You must have hurt your head, you poor thing!" With almost inhuman - how little he knew - speed, she was beside him and resting a cool hand on his forehead. "How do you feel now?"
  "Dazed..." He looked like a lost, confused child. "Why am..."
  "You came to model for me, don't you remember? You took your clothes off and then you just... fell." Her look of concern seemed utterly genuine. "Do you want me to call an ambulance for you? ...It's no trouble," she added, seeing his mouth open as if to say something.
  He closed it again, then shook his head slowly. "I'll be fine. Just... surprised." He took her proffered hand and got unsteadily to his feet. "Do you want me to... still?"
  She shook her head, an expression of profound sadness passing over her face. "No, it's fine, it's fine. You should go home and get some rest." As he vanished behind the screen with his clothing, she permitted herself a small smile before walking swiftly to a drawer and opening it, making sure she would be heard by him.

When he returned, still with his confused expression but now fully clothed, she pressed some notes into his hand. "I insist you take this, I feel so bad."
  He stared at the money, his mouth agape. "You can't pay me, I didn't do anything... I can't take this!" He looked at her, resolution in his eyes.
  Resolution that quickly faded in the glare of her innocent-seeming brown eyes. "I insist. I feel like I should have done so much more, but I didn't know what to do..." She sighed and again looked at the floor.
  With a faint sigh of his own and realising that the pretty red-haired lady before him would never take 'no' as an answer, he pushed the money awkwardly into his back pocket. "I wouldn't want to offend..." She looked up at him and smiled, and for a moment he thought he caught a glimpse of teeth too sharp and pointed to be true. But then they were gone, leaving him to believe that he had not seen clearly, that his mind was playing tricks on him due to the fall he apparently had.
  She linked arms with him companionably and walked him to the door of her studio, and from there to the front door. "I do so hope you'll come back. I'd hate to think this put you off..."
  He ran a hand through his already tousled brown hair, unsure momentarily of what to say. "...Of course I'll come back. I don't know what happened to me."
  Her smile was radiant and made him feel for a moment as though he was the most important person in the world to her. "I'm so glad! Would next Thursday be okay? Nine o'clock?"
  He nodded again, uncertainly. Whyever would she want to be painting that late at night? There was no accounting for some artist's muses, he guessed. "That'll be great. I'll... I'll see you then." And with a faint wave, he walked out onto the dark streets, wondering where the last three hours of his life had gone.

Caria closed the door carefully, then grinned. The gullible young man had swallowed every word. He didn't remember that immediately after he stepped out from behind her ornate screen she had pounced, her teeth sinking lovingly into his tender neck. Enough taken to make him sleep, but not enough to kill him, she had laid him out and begun to paint.
  Closing the door of her studio behind her, she smiled at the easel. Another beautiful painting of another beautiful victim. All so perfect.