Stains of Blue

Hi there,
This is my latest story and very Nc-17, and pornographic, so I decided to post it here.
If you like what you read, and I hope you do, cause this is the best thing I've ever written - and I don't say that stuff lightly, please review - I'm a feedback whore, I really am. Thank you!

Title: Stains of Blue
Author: Shieldmaiden
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Het Pornography
Disclaimer: I don't own Viggo, actually I I abducted him and abuse his integrity for my and maybe your pleasure - so don't sue! ;)

.:*:.

His house was exactly how I had imagined it, though the word 'house' seemed barely appropriate for the huge mansion, surrounded by a flourishing green garden I stood in front of. I had dismissed the driver, who had gotten me from the airport, and now trying to regain my composure, I stood there on my own, brus som some folds out of my knee-long black skirt and white blouse.
I couldn't make myself move, couldn't do one more step towards that door, where He would wait for me. He, the man I had been dreaming, lusting, fantasising about for the last two years, for real, in blood and flesh. I had not believed it when I had received his letter, and neither did I now.
"Perceval Press" I could read in the header, next to the so significant red P on white ground. And signed it had been by Him.

"Miss Ashwin?" a loud voice ripped me out of my reverie and I spun around, there He stood, about a hundred feel away from me, faded jeans, torn and colour stained, bare feet and a quite simple clean, white shirt. I swallowed again, tried to stop my head from spinning, but finally walked towards Him, very well aware of the deep red colour my cheek had applied.
"Yap, that's me!" I said lowly when I reached Him and took the hand He offered me.
"I'm Viggo, a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Miss Ashwin!" He murmured not louder, but the sensual hoarse quality made me shake to my very core and I could barely hold back the whimper His very vocal chords seemed to elicit from my throat.
"Oh, the pleasure is all mine, and... and please call me Iris!" I breathed, not able yet to let go of His hand, which still held mine. What had I just said? I couldn't remember, I just hoped it hadn't been what I was thinking at the very moment, Please fuck me until I forget my name.

His smile was open and honest, very warm and determined. "I would love to." He said slowly, and I blushed deeper, did I hallucinated the sensual quality?
"If you call me Viggo in return. Please come in!" He continued, a bit louder then before and gestured me into the house. "Straight down the corridor!"

Slowly I walked past the walls, closely hung with art of all kinds framed or unframed, expensive pieces next to something completely unrecognizable ones; huge heaps of papers and paper boxes stood in the corners, and I couldn't take my eyes of all these beautiful proves of his artistry.
He chuckled behind me.
"Please excuse the mess, you won't believe it, Iris, but I am actually quite tidy. I just can't seem to be able to combine art and order."
I smiled and turned around to Him, feeling my heart flutter from the way He pronounced my name.
I chuckled politely in return, unable to say anything that would be worth passing my lips, of course I had to say something anyway. "Oh that's ok..." I mumbled finally, "You should see my place, and I'm not even a real artist!"

Not a real artist, that was a nice description for what I am, not really anything would be perfect. A bit of a writer, a bit of a photographer, a bit of a painter, a bit of a student, a bit of a woman, a bit of a girl - a bit of everything, a bit of nothing, too less to matter and too much to ignore.
That's why I was there anyway, after a bet with my best friend, whom I owed 50 bucks then, and a dedication in my book, I had sent some of my poetry, short prose, drawings and photographs to several publishers. No one had answered, and in a way it felt like a relieve, that I could let go of my obsession with art, could stop dreaming and start concentrating on what my parents would call a decent profession.
But it all turns out different, and especially then I had planned.
It was almost a year later when my mailbox contained a quite usual looking small letter - an invitation.
And there I was on my best way to make a fool of myself, where I originally was supposed to convince Viggo why my work is worth printing.

He chose to ignore my comment, probably because He stood above my pathetic, but - I promise - unintended, fishing for compliments.
"I prefer to have my business conversations in a relaxed atmosphere, is that alright with you?" He asked again, still behind me, I turned around and smiled relieved, that was indeed an idea to my liking.
"Sure!" I replied simply and even managed to elicit a small, softly amused smile from His lips. ood,ood, then you can just..." He paused for a second and opened the door next to me, "wait here for me and I get us something to drink!"
He had vanished behind another door before I could react, so I did as He had suggested and a moment later I stood in a rather large room that didn't seem to fit at all into the dreamy poet picture I had of Him: A large pool table, a huge stereo, some comfy looking couches and a bar.


.:*:.


I had just sat down on one of the sofas when Viggo returned, with a bottle of wine, he smiled at me encouraging and got two beautifully shaped glasses out of a cupboard over the bar.
"Do you mind to set up the balls?" he asked casually while almost gently pouring some of the Bordeaux coloured liquid into the glasses. I nodded, got up and fetched the colourful balls out of the device in the table.
"You know how to play, don't you?" he asked then while handing me one of the glasses, I smiled flushing at the intensity his stare contained.
"Kind of..." I mumbled, tried to look away, but couldn't.
"That will be enough... now, what shall we drink to?" he asked, but answered himself without waiting for an answer, "Ah, I know - To your work, which aroused my interest in the most charming way."

I flushed even more, when we the glasses to each other and the high pinched clink resonated in the room, his intense blue eyes were still locked with mine and I still tried to understand what he meant by his comment, for some reason it sounded unlike the usual compliment I have heard so far. But then again, it might be just my imagination, or wishful thinking, because I still seemed stripped off every rational, observing thought, felt like floating from cloud to cloud into the heights of heaven, or the depth of hell - I couldn't say.

He had put his glass onto a small table next to one of the sofas and gestured me to do the same while he offered me one of the shorter cues. I took it smiling and gave him my glass in return, which he put next to his onto the table.
"Go ahead..." he said lowly and, suppressing the tremor my body seemed to give into, I made my way to the opposite side of the large, green pool table, bent over and set the cue in position, softly running it over the back of my hand, securely set between two knuckles.
But at the moment I wanted to hit the white ball, I looked over to Viggo for a last reassuring glance, and suddenly got aware of his eyes, that lingered on my form. I trembled again, now extremely self-conscious about my ass, on which this position provided a clear view, and also my breasts which almost seemed to fall out of my neckline - the white ball went straight into one of the holes.

Viggo grinned, suppressing a chuckle, while I got up quickly and tried to pull down my skirt and fiddle with my blouse, my face must have applied a colour very much like the delicious red wine we had tasted earlier.
"Well... uhh... your turn!" I muttered, and took a few more deep sips of wine, avoiding his eyes.
Again his low, characteristic chuckle met my ears, "No, no, come'ere!" be murmured, taking my hand.
He had set the white ball back onto it's original spot and softly nudged me into the right position bending as well next to me.
"See, like this," he said, even lower now that he was so close. I could feel the warmth his body radiated and exhaled a shaky breath.
He pushed the cue slowly back and forth in the slight gap between his thumb and index-finger, "Take it slowly, softly... built up force and then push - easy... Now try it again!"

Now I was happy to literally lean onto the table, because my knees shook so hard that I doubted they would be able tory mry me, slowly I imitated his position, the long shaft ran over my skin, unable to stop imagines to flood my mind.
"Now, slowly, focus... yes, that's it... and now push!"
I did it, and the colourful balls splattered all across the table, I sighed relived and regained a standing position, Viggo smiled at me. "Very good!"

He walked around the table a much longer, much thicker cue in his hand, if anything his slow strides resembled the movements of a cat, a big jungle cat, a tiger maybe - slow sensual, so flowing and radiating this incredible essence of strength and natural power.

When over again I couldn't stop myself from letting my eyes travel over his incredibly well toned body, the curve of his neck, his spine, very visible through the thin fabric of his shirt, the soft hardness of his backside... the sound of colliding balls tore me out of my reverie and I turned my eyes back to the table early enough to witness two of the full coloured balls rolling straight into two holes.
"Wow..." I breathed smiling insecure, but he didn't seem to react to my eloquent compliment.

"Do you know what fascinated me about your work?" he suddenly changed topic, and took a sip of wine. I shook my head, it was true I had indeed no idea why of all applications he would choose mine for his limited annual resources.
"On the surface" he started slowly, aiming for another ball, "they cover themes as love, nature, faith... but every single piece, poetry, photography, prose, painting..." each of these four words had been emphasised by a soft push of the cue over his hand, "... contains the distinct atmosphere of... sex!"
The while ball hit a blue one at the moment he had uttered the last word, and for a second I wondered if I had heard him correctly, but there no doubt about it anymore when he spoke again.
"I wanted to meet the woman, able to create such a natural sensuality seemingly without the slightest effort."

To be continued...

(...Only on demand!)