Love in a Gallery

It was the first warm, sunny day, the one that reminds everyone that summer really does exist, and isn't just a distant sweet memory.

Victoria, a fresh-faced college girl finished her first class of the morning and decided to go for a long walk with her old friend sunshine. She had straight blonde hair, and a lively smile. However good-looking she might be, she was unlucky in love, too shy to approach men, yet her natural confidance and poise scared most of the good ones away. She was by nature independant and found nothing wrong with being alone. She loved being home alone, shopping alone, even going to the theatre alone. Being an only child, and single, it was a trait that came in handy.

She walked past boulevards and avenues, and arrived at her favorite spot in the city. A cute little street, with bustling french cafes and avant-garde art galleries.

She had just discovered this artsy haven a few weeks ago while half-hazardly walking around without any direction.

One gallery in particular caught her attention, it had a painting of a young girl, with thick brush strokes and bold colors, and the jean skirt she was wearing was actually denim glued onto the canvas.

She walked in, and was overwhelmed by the beauty of the place. It was quite large, with white walls, open space, and huge, colorful magestic paintings adorning the walls. She walked around adoring one painting after the next, until her eyes fell upon the greatest piece of art in the room.

He was sitting behind a strong wooden desk, in front of an exposed brick wall in the corner. He was the definition of masculinity with a strong, definite jaw line, and wavy black hair which barely grazed his neck. You could sense his strength just by looking at him, barely seeing the outlines of his muscular chest hidden behind his crisp Ralph Lauren shirt. His piercing aqua eyes met hers, he smiled slyly, his gaze digging holes into her.

"Welcome to the gallery, I love to see new faces around here," he said, smiling, falling for her young liveliness, something rare among women his own age.

Victoria was speechless. Did she see a glint of flirtation in his eyes or was she just dreaming? He had to be at least double her age. He seemed to be around forty, yet she hadn't even reached her twentieth birthday yet - she was only seventeen. But her skin was tingling, she couldn't remember the last time she had been so strongly attracted to a man before. She wanted to jump his bones, right there on his desk. Wait? Was he married? She quickly checked his left hand for a gold band, but it was naked, she felt relieved.

He kept his gaze on her, she didn't saw a word, yet the fire in her eyes said all he needed to know.

The End

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