The next evening, an hour before closing, Sydney looked up from the magazine she was reading and put down her coffee cup as the door opened. A tall figure came in and looked around slowly. She couldn't see who he was yet, all the paintings on canvases blocked her view. "Hello," she called out. "Can I help you, sir?"
He suddenly came into view, and he was not at all what she had been expecting. She had never seen someone so... so... mysterious looking. So incredibly handsome. And no one had ever looked so yummy in black. Ever. She had to admit, he was the best looking thing she had seen since the elf in Lord of the Rings.
Smiling, she noticed he was staring at her, his eyes strangely intense. Before she could say anything he replied. "Yes, actually, you can help me."
Any way I can! She wanted to yell out the words, but kept her mouth closed. He even had an accent... what other appealing secrets did this stranger hold? She raised her eyebrows, and waited.
He took in a breath and began walking toward her, a slight stagger in his walk. His cheeks looked a little hollow, he was a bit underweight, she noticed. But still gorgeous. "I was wondering," he began, interupting her thoughts, "Would you happen to have any paintings by..." he paused, and his look became even more intense for some reason. "Waterhouse?"
She raised her eyebrows. He was perfect.
She was terrified.
"Um, yes, actually, we do." She choked on her words. "They're here, in the back." She came out from behind the desk, and was surprised when something lit in his eyes.
She was wearing green. He loved it when she wore green. She wore a black knit turtleneck, and a green bohemian skirt, decorated with tiny beadwork. She wore black flipflops, and an anklet made of purple amythest. Her hair was up, and her lips...
"Do you know?" She repeated. He had been staring, and her question immediately brought him out of his daze.
"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I was thinking about something... What was your question?"
"Do you know what painting your looking for?" She asked again, and he noticed there was no impatience in her voice, no urgency or annoyance.
"No. I'm not really looking for anything, eh.. specific. I'm just looking for something new and I saw some of his work online the other day."
Well, at least he seemed as if he could keep a conversation going. A lot of men she knew could only talk about one thing, things she usually weren't interested in.
"Do you like Waterhouse?" He asked suddenly.
She was startled, her nerves on edge. There was something about him... "Yes, actually, I do." She smiled at him.
His cold heart wanted to feel something, and he almost wanted to let it... Not yet, he told himself.
"He's my favorite artist."
Sydney watched as his perfectly sculpted face showed surprise, and his brown raised slightly. He splayed his hands and asked, "Truly? What's your favorite painting?"
"It's called Ophelia. I love the dress the woman in the painting is wearing."
"What else do you like about it?"
Well, now... He asked questions. How many men, let alone people, asked anything about anyone else now-a-days? She liked this person. "Um.. Well... She looks so comfortable with herself. The lilies in the background are so lovely and add to the painting. It's soothing and I just, I love it." A little embarrassed, she looked up at him. It was then she noticed he was rather tall, maybe 6'1 she judged.
He smiled, but didn't show his teeth. "Would you happen to have it here?"
Sydney nodded and guided him to a collection of painting that hung along the back wall in ornate frames. The whole back wall was rare John William Waterhouse paintings, her favorite part of the store. She pointed at the one 3rd from the top, and 5th from the right. "Right there." She smiled at it.
"It's beautiful." He said, and inspected it. "I'll take it."
She turned and stared at him. "What?"
"I'll take it. That is, if you don't mind." He said.
"Um, no of course not." She had the same painting already hanging above her bed. "But it's an immense cost for a painting."
"How much?"
"Four thousand."
He nodded, and began looking around. "I'll take this one, too." He pointed at the one named Le Belle Dame Sans Merci, another one of her favorites. "How much?"
"Six..." She trailed off. He was so odd... she wanted to study him, stare at him, sketch and draw him.
"Four?"
"Thousand." She said.
He laughed and nodded his head. "What's the least expensive painting in here?" Not that he had to worry about money anyway.
"Um, two thousand." She laughed.
"Okay. Now I see why you have the whole thing gated and nine locks on the door. The front is quite lovely, by the way."
She smiled at him. She had helped tend the flower garden and pathway that was made of cement and different-coloured marbles that led to the shop. "Thank you."
"Now, how do I pay for this?"
"We can take it in payments, we'll send you a bill every two weeks, or whatever's conveinent and deliever the painting when you're half way through your payment," She explained.
He looked a little distraught for a moment. "Can you do me a favour? Can I pay for one now, completely, and take them both? Or have them delievered tomorrow. I'm having a party soon, and well... I need these. I just moved into a new... apartment and it's pretty bland." He lied, but all well.
"Um... Well, yes we can do that."
"Great." He smiled and pulled out his wallet. He handed over his credit card.
She charged him, and was shocked when it was accepted. Handing the card back over, she smiled weakly. "I'll be delivering them around 12:00 tomorrow." Grinning, she asked for his address.
Sydney watched as he ran his hand threw his hair, and it remained in it's messy yet blissfully perfect state, and blew out a breath. "Could you deliver those a little later? Maybe seven?"
She nodded, and he wrote down his address. "Thank you." He murmured, and his gaze was suddenly heavy lidded as he looked down at her. "See you."
And with that he left. He forgot to give her his name.
He suddenly came into view, and he was not at all what she had been expecting. She had never seen someone so... so... mysterious looking. So incredibly handsome. And no one had ever looked so yummy in black. Ever. She had to admit, he was the best looking thing she had seen since the elf in Lord of the Rings.
Smiling, she noticed he was staring at her, his eyes strangely intense. Before she could say anything he replied. "Yes, actually, you can help me."
Any way I can! She wanted to yell out the words, but kept her mouth closed. He even had an accent... what other appealing secrets did this stranger hold? She raised her eyebrows, and waited.
He took in a breath and began walking toward her, a slight stagger in his walk. His cheeks looked a little hollow, he was a bit underweight, she noticed. But still gorgeous. "I was wondering," he began, interupting her thoughts, "Would you happen to have any paintings by..." he paused, and his look became even more intense for some reason. "Waterhouse?"
She raised her eyebrows. He was perfect.
She was terrified.
"Um, yes, actually, we do." She choked on her words. "They're here, in the back." She came out from behind the desk, and was surprised when something lit in his eyes.
She was wearing green. He loved it when she wore green. She wore a black knit turtleneck, and a green bohemian skirt, decorated with tiny beadwork. She wore black flipflops, and an anklet made of purple amythest. Her hair was up, and her lips...
"Do you know?" She repeated. He had been staring, and her question immediately brought him out of his daze.
"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I was thinking about something... What was your question?"
"Do you know what painting your looking for?" She asked again, and he noticed there was no impatience in her voice, no urgency or annoyance.
"No. I'm not really looking for anything, eh.. specific. I'm just looking for something new and I saw some of his work online the other day."
Well, at least he seemed as if he could keep a conversation going. A lot of men she knew could only talk about one thing, things she usually weren't interested in.
"Do you like Waterhouse?" He asked suddenly.
She was startled, her nerves on edge. There was something about him... "Yes, actually, I do." She smiled at him.
His cold heart wanted to feel something, and he almost wanted to let it... Not yet, he told himself.
"He's my favorite artist."
Sydney watched as his perfectly sculpted face showed surprise, and his brown raised slightly. He splayed his hands and asked, "Truly? What's your favorite painting?"
"It's called Ophelia. I love the dress the woman in the painting is wearing."
"What else do you like about it?"
Well, now... He asked questions. How many men, let alone people, asked anything about anyone else now-a-days? She liked this person. "Um.. Well... She looks so comfortable with herself. The lilies in the background are so lovely and add to the painting. It's soothing and I just, I love it." A little embarrassed, she looked up at him. It was then she noticed he was rather tall, maybe 6'1 she judged.
He smiled, but didn't show his teeth. "Would you happen to have it here?"
Sydney nodded and guided him to a collection of painting that hung along the back wall in ornate frames. The whole back wall was rare John William Waterhouse paintings, her favorite part of the store. She pointed at the one 3rd from the top, and 5th from the right. "Right there." She smiled at it.
"It's beautiful." He said, and inspected it. "I'll take it."
She turned and stared at him. "What?"
"I'll take it. That is, if you don't mind." He said.
"Um, no of course not." She had the same painting already hanging above her bed. "But it's an immense cost for a painting."
"How much?"
"Four thousand."
He nodded, and began looking around. "I'll take this one, too." He pointed at the one named Le Belle Dame Sans Merci, another one of her favorites. "How much?"
"Six..." She trailed off. He was so odd... she wanted to study him, stare at him, sketch and draw him.
"Four?"
"Thousand." She said.
He laughed and nodded his head. "What's the least expensive painting in here?" Not that he had to worry about money anyway.
"Um, two thousand." She laughed.
"Okay. Now I see why you have the whole thing gated and nine locks on the door. The front is quite lovely, by the way."
She smiled at him. She had helped tend the flower garden and pathway that was made of cement and different-coloured marbles that led to the shop. "Thank you."
"Now, how do I pay for this?"
"We can take it in payments, we'll send you a bill every two weeks, or whatever's conveinent and deliever the painting when you're half way through your payment," She explained.
He looked a little distraught for a moment. "Can you do me a favour? Can I pay for one now, completely, and take them both? Or have them delievered tomorrow. I'm having a party soon, and well... I need these. I just moved into a new... apartment and it's pretty bland." He lied, but all well.
"Um... Well, yes we can do that."
"Great." He smiled and pulled out his wallet. He handed over his credit card.
She charged him, and was shocked when it was accepted. Handing the card back over, she smiled weakly. "I'll be delivering them around 12:00 tomorrow." Grinning, she asked for his address.
Sydney watched as he ran his hand threw his hair, and it remained in it's messy yet blissfully perfect state, and blew out a breath. "Could you deliver those a little later? Maybe seven?"
She nodded, and he wrote down his address. "Thank you." He murmured, and his gaze was suddenly heavy lidded as he looked down at her. "See you."
And with that he left. He forgot to give her his name.