Read Online Vicious Little Darlings by Katherine Easer - Free Book Online Page A

drink?”
    â€œWater would be great,” I say.
    â€œIce?”
    I nod.
    As he fixes my drink in the adjacent kitchen, I sit down on the couch and try to imagine him alone in his surroundings. Does he lie on the couch while he’s reading his art books? Does he eat in the kitchen or in bed? His life seems kind of quiet, but I guess all lives appear quiet when they’re not filled with people.
    He comes back with my water, and I realize that we haven’t spoken for at least two minutes. I should probably say something.
    â€œSo, what’s your major?” I ask, cringing at my lack of originality.
    â€œStudio art.”
    â€œMe too. At least that’s what I want to major in. I haven’t officially decided yet, but art seems to be the only thing I’m good at. Not that I’m really good at it.” I take a sip of water. “Can I see some of your work?”
    He doesn’t respond, and I start to think that maybe I’m being too forward. I would never show anyone my work unless I knew them pretty well.
    He opens a filing cabinet and takes out a sketchbook.
    â€œI don’t normally show my stuff on a first date, but since you’re an artist too …”
    He hands me the sketchbook.
    â€œYou sure?” I ask. “Because—”
    â€œYeah. Go for it.”
    His drawings are disturbing, to say the least. Francis Bacon-esque renderings of the female form: twisted, grotesque, amputated. Skinny women with missing arms and legs, some missing a breast or two. What do these drawings mean? He’s obviously some kind of misogynist. He probably has mother issues too. Doesn’t everything lead back to the mother? I feel inadequate all of a sudden, as a woman and as an artist. I’m not as skinny as these girls, and my drawings aren’t nearly as gutsy. Who are these women? Past girlfriends? Models from his class? The women of his dreams?
    I close the sketchpad. There’s no way I’m sleeping with this guy. “Wow,” I say. “Very interesting.”
    â€œYou hated them.”
    â€œNo, I liked them. I just, well, you have to admit your work is kind of disturbing.”
    â€œIt’s supposed to be.” His eyes bore into me.
    It occurs to me that this probably wasn’t such a brilliant idea, coming to a stranger’s apartment alone at night. If art is a reflection of a person’s mental health, then I’m definitely in trouble. What if he’s angry with me for not liking his work? What if he tries to amputate me ? I force myself to stay calm.
    â€œDo you have a boyfriend?” he asks.
    I shake my head.
    He clears his throat. “I just got out of a two-year relationship.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œActually, I didn’t just get out of it. It ended about six months ago.”
    â€œOh.” I’m curious to know what happened with his ex, but I don’t ask and we don’t say anything for several minutes. I reach for my water as he sits down next to me. There’s about a foot of leather between us. As soon as I place my water glass back down on the coffee table, he pounces on me. He covers my neck with kisses and runs his hands down the length of my body. We kiss and it’s surprisingly good, even though he tastes a bit like kung pao chicken. When I feel his erection against my leg, I start to panic. I hardly know this person; he could have a million diseases. Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this.
    But then thoughts of Sebastian swoop in to torture me. I fucking hate that he’s the last guy I slept with, and at least Scissorhands is nice and seems to like me. So I kiss him harder and he responds by squeezing my breasts. Then he whispers in my ear, “You’re so beautiful,” and even though I know that compliments from a guy don’t mean as much when they’re uttered right before sex, hearing this one makes me smile. I run my hands up his back, through his feather-soft hair