he
asked.
“You, my friend
look tired. Didn’t you get enough sleep last night or are you suffering from
jet lag?” she asked.
“I didn’t get
enough sleep. My neighbor and his girlfriend kept me up late with all the
moaning and groaning they did. The girl was a screamer,” he said. I think my
heart dropped down to my feet. Maybe it was a coincidence, but I’m pretty sure
this is Wyatt’s neighbor. Damn! I averted my eyes from looking at him as if he
knew it was me, the screamer from next door.
“Oz, meet my
assistant, Rebel. She will be showing you around the place today,” she said. He
finally looked my way and licked his lips.
“It’s a pleasure to
meet you Rebel. I’ve heard a lot of nice things about you,” he said.
“The pleasure is
all mine, Mr. Stone,” I said.
“Please call me Oz.
All my friends do. I’m sure you and I are going to be great friends,” he said.
“Alright, I’ll
leave you two alone to get acquainted. Rebel is a good tour guide and an avid
art aficionado,” Linda said. I grinned at my boss, and turned my attention to
Mr. Stone.
“Right this way,
Mr. Stonewall,” I said.
“Oz, please,” he
said. I led him to the showroom and proceeded to tell him about the gallery.
“Linda’s Gallery of
Artists, is an eclectic contemporary fine art gallery. Artists shown are local
and national, emerging and world renowned. Paintings, watercolors, mixed media,
prints, photographs, sculpture and jewelry are shown in theme-based shows which
change every six weeks from September to June. Our specialties are narrative
figuration and Asian inspired landscapes. What category of art do you fall
under?” I asked.
“I’m more into
photographs, but I recently discovered that I could love mixed media as well. I’m
a visual artist,” he said.
“Well, then this is
the place for you. The Gallery showcases the finest in contemporary painting,
drawing, sculpture, printmaking, photography and handmade jewelry. During its
first season, approximately seventy percent of the artists who have exhibited here
live and work in the tri-state area,” I said.
“Are you perhaps an
artist, Rebel?” he asked.
“I dabble a little
bit in the arts,” I said.
“What area of art?”
he asked.
“I have a wide
range of art interest. It’s very eclectic. I can do paintings, watercolors, mix
media, and sketches, just to name a few,” I replied.
“Really? You strike
me as a very, very vocal artist,” he whispered in my ear. My heart rate picked
up and my palms were getting sweaty. Oh my fucking god. Of course, he’s the
neighbor and he knows it was me, the screamer from apartment 18. If I could
have any wish in the world, I would wish for the floor to open up and swallow
me whole.
"Let me guess,
you're sarcastic guy in 17," I said.
He laughed before
saying, "Yeah, I'm that guy."
"I'm so sorry
for keeping you up. I'm embarrassed you heard that," I said.
"Please don't
apologize. I really enjoyed hearing you in the throes of passion. I was quite
jealous that I wasn't the one making you scream that way. I envisioned what you
would look like. I have to say my fantasy didn't live up to the reality. You
are breathtaking. You have the most gorgeous eyes I've ever seen and now that
I've met you my jealousy is even greater. Your boyfriend is a lucky
bastard," he said.
“Umm…thanks I
think,” I said. He may be a hot guy, but he was an arrogant prick. I continued
the tour and tried to keep our conversations gallery related. Unfortunately, Oz
wanted to continue to discuss my amorous vocal cords and my eyes.
“Rebel, has anyone
ever told you that your eyes are beautiful? The color is magnificent,” he said.
“Can you please
refrain from discussing my eyes and sex life? It’s making me uncomfortable,” I
said. This guy seriously had diarrhea of the mouth. My dislike of him grew to
mammoth proportions. He didn’t know when to shut the fuck up. I’m sure he could
tell I was uncomfortable with the
asked.
“You, my friend
look tired. Didn’t you get enough sleep last night or are you suffering from
jet lag?” she asked.
“I didn’t get
enough sleep. My neighbor and his girlfriend kept me up late with all the
moaning and groaning they did. The girl was a screamer,” he said. I think my
heart dropped down to my feet. Maybe it was a coincidence, but I’m pretty sure
this is Wyatt’s neighbor. Damn! I averted my eyes from looking at him as if he
knew it was me, the screamer from next door.
“Oz, meet my
assistant, Rebel. She will be showing you around the place today,” she said. He
finally looked my way and licked his lips.
“It’s a pleasure to
meet you Rebel. I’ve heard a lot of nice things about you,” he said.
“The pleasure is
all mine, Mr. Stone,” I said.
“Please call me Oz.
All my friends do. I’m sure you and I are going to be great friends,” he said.
“Alright, I’ll
leave you two alone to get acquainted. Rebel is a good tour guide and an avid
art aficionado,” Linda said. I grinned at my boss, and turned my attention to
Mr. Stone.
“Right this way,
Mr. Stonewall,” I said.
“Oz, please,” he
said. I led him to the showroom and proceeded to tell him about the gallery.
“Linda’s Gallery of
Artists, is an eclectic contemporary fine art gallery. Artists shown are local
and national, emerging and world renowned. Paintings, watercolors, mixed media,
prints, photographs, sculpture and jewelry are shown in theme-based shows which
change every six weeks from September to June. Our specialties are narrative
figuration and Asian inspired landscapes. What category of art do you fall
under?” I asked.
“I’m more into
photographs, but I recently discovered that I could love mixed media as well. I’m
a visual artist,” he said.
“Well, then this is
the place for you. The Gallery showcases the finest in contemporary painting,
drawing, sculpture, printmaking, photography and handmade jewelry. During its
first season, approximately seventy percent of the artists who have exhibited here
live and work in the tri-state area,” I said.
“Are you perhaps an
artist, Rebel?” he asked.
“I dabble a little
bit in the arts,” I said.
“What area of art?”
he asked.
“I have a wide
range of art interest. It’s very eclectic. I can do paintings, watercolors, mix
media, and sketches, just to name a few,” I replied.
“Really? You strike
me as a very, very vocal artist,” he whispered in my ear. My heart rate picked
up and my palms were getting sweaty. Oh my fucking god. Of course, he’s the
neighbor and he knows it was me, the screamer from apartment 18. If I could
have any wish in the world, I would wish for the floor to open up and swallow
me whole.
"Let me guess,
you're sarcastic guy in 17," I said.
He laughed before
saying, "Yeah, I'm that guy."
"I'm so sorry
for keeping you up. I'm embarrassed you heard that," I said.
"Please don't
apologize. I really enjoyed hearing you in the throes of passion. I was quite
jealous that I wasn't the one making you scream that way. I envisioned what you
would look like. I have to say my fantasy didn't live up to the reality. You
are breathtaking. You have the most gorgeous eyes I've ever seen and now that
I've met you my jealousy is even greater. Your boyfriend is a lucky
bastard," he said.
“Umm…thanks I
think,” I said. He may be a hot guy, but he was an arrogant prick. I continued
the tour and tried to keep our conversations gallery related. Unfortunately, Oz
wanted to continue to discuss my amorous vocal cords and my eyes.
“Rebel, has anyone
ever told you that your eyes are beautiful? The color is magnificent,” he said.
“Can you please
refrain from discussing my eyes and sex life? It’s making me uncomfortable,” I
said. This guy seriously had diarrhea of the mouth. My dislike of him grew to
mammoth proportions. He didn’t know when to shut the fuck up. I’m sure he could
tell I was uncomfortable with the
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