Ignited & Unhinged (Billionaire Secret, Book One)(Billionaire Romance, New Adult Romance, College Romance) by Lexi Summers Page B
Authors: Lexi Summers
Tags: Coming of Age, love triangle, new adult, college, Erotic Romance, Billionaire, new adult romance, billionaire romance, College romance, Comedy, American Royalty
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The last pizza arrives then. We all take a slice of the large Orgasm.
CHAPTER 15 Billionaire Secret: After the Baths & Ballerinas
That afternoon, I continue my mission of distraction and immersion in the Ivy experience by visiting the university art gallery.
I tried to get the other girls to go with me, but they were all busy.
Jasmine had an early study date. Study being code for another S word. Kim was playing intramural volleyball at the gym. And Ana was going to a panel on study abroad programs.
The main gallery is located just down the street from SE.
The building itself dates to the mid-19th century, but the inside is newly renovated and houses a city block and five floors of art spanning 5000 years.
It’s the final weekend of the Renoir to Chagall exhibit which explores how Paris became the center of the art world in the 19th Century and played muse to many of the period’s art greats, including the French impressionists.
The impressionists were my favorite. The colors, the dream like expression of reality—I could spend an entire day staring at just one painting.
I find the exhibit on the 5th Floor.
There are fifty paintings that explored Paris and the surrounding countryside.
From a portrait by Mary Cassatt to landscapes by Monet and ballerinas by Degas. It’s beautiful.
The expansive room is filled with natural light from the large skylights in the ceiling that seem to partition the 5th floor into three sections.
There are also physical partitions placed in seemingly inexplicable patterns across the floor.
There is a section in the middle of the room that is closed off on three sides, blocking a series of paintings from view.
I walk along the outside wall first.
It’s easy to lose myself in the vibrant colors, the freedom of expression, and the subjective pieces.
They all fuel my imagination.
I glance at my cell, two hours had come and gone.
Only the closed off section in the middle of the room remained.
I pause just outside the three-walled section to look at one of Degas’ ballerinas.
She is bent over fixing her shoe, the tulle of her costume touches the floor and extends upwards behind her.
It’s a simple moment in time. She isn’t doing anything graceful or exceptional in any way, but the piece is beautiful. It moves me, like all the great works do.
I walk into the section that shields a series of paintings in the middle of the room.
I can see now that it’s actually walled-in on four sides with only a small opening to allow a person to step inside.
There are twelve paintings, three on each wall depicting women and men in various states of nudity.
I start with a painting on the far wall opposite the entrance.
Another Degas called “ After the Bath or, Reclining Nude ” c. 1885.
The woman lay on something, I can’t tell if it is a bed, or if she is on an orange-red carpet.
She’s on her side, her leg relaxed in front of her, obscuring her private parts.
I lean into the painting. Trying to see her breasts more clearly.
I wouldn’t normally have done it, but here in the privacy of this space I’m alone and free to examine the figure.
I wonder if all women are curious about breasts. They are just lobs of fat, but somehow they had become inextricably linked with femininity, sex, and the forbidden.
Even though they are everywhere.
“It isn’t an HD photograph, you know. You can’t zoom in to get a better look at the subject’s rack,” a distressingly familiar voice says from just behind me.
I don’t move, but I’m sure my entire body has just turned bright red.
I’m stunned speechless.
Holy .
Crap .
Now standing just inches to my right, he continues, “Notice the curves Degas uses throughout.”
He gestures with two fingers an inch from the surface of the canvas.
“The curve of her hip,” he speaks slowly, silkily, “the curve of her leg that covers her most intimate place .”
Professor West makes the last two words sound less delicate
The last pizza arrives then. We all take a slice of the large Orgasm.
CHAPTER 15 Billionaire Secret: After the Baths & Ballerinas
That afternoon, I continue my mission of distraction and immersion in the Ivy experience by visiting the university art gallery.
I tried to get the other girls to go with me, but they were all busy.
Jasmine had an early study date. Study being code for another S word. Kim was playing intramural volleyball at the gym. And Ana was going to a panel on study abroad programs.
The main gallery is located just down the street from SE.
The building itself dates to the mid-19th century, but the inside is newly renovated and houses a city block and five floors of art spanning 5000 years.
It’s the final weekend of the Renoir to Chagall exhibit which explores how Paris became the center of the art world in the 19th Century and played muse to many of the period’s art greats, including the French impressionists.
The impressionists were my favorite. The colors, the dream like expression of reality—I could spend an entire day staring at just one painting.
I find the exhibit on the 5th Floor.
There are fifty paintings that explored Paris and the surrounding countryside.
From a portrait by Mary Cassatt to landscapes by Monet and ballerinas by Degas. It’s beautiful.
The expansive room is filled with natural light from the large skylights in the ceiling that seem to partition the 5th floor into three sections.
There are also physical partitions placed in seemingly inexplicable patterns across the floor.
There is a section in the middle of the room that is closed off on three sides, blocking a series of paintings from view.
I walk along the outside wall first.
It’s easy to lose myself in the vibrant colors, the freedom of expression, and the subjective pieces.
They all fuel my imagination.
I glance at my cell, two hours had come and gone.
Only the closed off section in the middle of the room remained.
I pause just outside the three-walled section to look at one of Degas’ ballerinas.
She is bent over fixing her shoe, the tulle of her costume touches the floor and extends upwards behind her.
It’s a simple moment in time. She isn’t doing anything graceful or exceptional in any way, but the piece is beautiful. It moves me, like all the great works do.
I walk into the section that shields a series of paintings in the middle of the room.
I can see now that it’s actually walled-in on four sides with only a small opening to allow a person to step inside.
There are twelve paintings, three on each wall depicting women and men in various states of nudity.
I start with a painting on the far wall opposite the entrance.
Another Degas called “ After the Bath or, Reclining Nude ” c. 1885.
The woman lay on something, I can’t tell if it is a bed, or if she is on an orange-red carpet.
She’s on her side, her leg relaxed in front of her, obscuring her private parts.
I lean into the painting. Trying to see her breasts more clearly.
I wouldn’t normally have done it, but here in the privacy of this space I’m alone and free to examine the figure.
I wonder if all women are curious about breasts. They are just lobs of fat, but somehow they had become inextricably linked with femininity, sex, and the forbidden.
Even though they are everywhere.
“It isn’t an HD photograph, you know. You can’t zoom in to get a better look at the subject’s rack,” a distressingly familiar voice says from just behind me.
I don’t move, but I’m sure my entire body has just turned bright red.
I’m stunned speechless.
Holy .
Crap .
Now standing just inches to my right, he continues, “Notice the curves Degas uses throughout.”
He gestures with two fingers an inch from the surface of the canvas.
“The curve of her hip,” he speaks slowly, silkily, “the curve of her leg that covers her most intimate place .”
Professor West makes the last two words sound less delicate
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