Page 60 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
With his hand gripping my elbow, he led me out of the restaurant, around the corner, and up a set of stairs. He wasn’t kidding; he did live close.
I waited as he unlocked the door and led me to the second floor where a large sliding metal door was locked. Once again, he unlocked the door, moved the door to the side, turned on some lights and led me inside.
Color invaded my senses as I took in picture after picture. Displayed on every wall, covering every inch was a gallery of very colorful, but very naked women.
Oh. My. God.
Chapter Eleven
The Squirrel Tail
“Do you like my art?” Alejandro asked as he led me inside his apartment.
Did I like his art? Well . . .
Big nipples, small nipples, square nipples, abstract nipples, vaginas with hair, vaginas completely bare, vaginas spread wide, vaginas with fingers in them . . .
“Wow,” I said as I took in the array of naked woman gracing every inch of his walls.Every. Inch.“I didn’t know a vagina could be green.”
He chuckled next to my ear and whispered in a deep, husky voice, “Its art, querida. A vagina can be any color you want it to be.”
Nodding, I walked over to some of his smaller paintings to get a better look.
“Do you only paint naked woman?”
“No, I do self-portraits as well.”
“You do?” I asked, interested and feeling a little tipsy as I swayed back and forth.
“Yes, would you like to see?”
“Please, I would love to see how you capture yourself.”
“This way, querida.” He guided me to the back of the loft where there was a massive bed in the middle of the room with the fluffiest comforter I had ever seen.
“Wow, your bed looks comfortable. Can I jump on it?”
I heard myself say it but still, I didn’t care that I sounded like a teenager.
“You can do whatever you want on my bed.”
I heard the innuendo in his voice but chose to ignore it as I took my shoes off and hopped on his bed. Instantly I was sucked into the plush confines of his comforter.
“Oh, I can’t jump on this, it’s too unbelievable. What kind of comforter is this? Goose down?”
“Not quite sure. I can look and see if you would like.”
“No, I want to see your self-portraits.”
Yes, the margarita was taking effect. I told myself to be cool, but my brain had other ideas as it sloshed around in an ocean of tequila.
Alejandro walked to a chest and opened it with a click. His back flowed with his movements and I was instantly aware of the fact that I was in a small loft with an extremely attractive man and lying on his bed. That was the furthest I had ever been with a man in all my virgin years.
“Querida, are you watching?” he asked, staring at me.
I realized I zoned out so I shook my head clear and focused on the painting Alejandro was holding. The painted side was facing him, ready to be revealed.
“Yes,” I said while I sat on my knees and placed my hands on my thighs.
