Friday, 27 June 2014

Friday, June 27, 2014 -

A Taste of Loving Discipline

by Abigail Armani
Published: Jun 5, 2014
Words: 53,818
Category: romance
Orientation: M/F
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June put down her brush and stared at the painting. "Hmmm, not bad, June. Not bad at all." She took a few steps back and critically appraised her work. It looked even better from a distance. Pleased with her efforts, she absent-mindedly reached up to secure an escaped tendril of long golden hair from her face, daubing a streak of indigo on her nose in the process. She smiled. The painting was almost complete and needed just a touch more colour on the dramatic skyline. She picked up her brush, ignoring the loud intrusive ring of the doorbell, and began to mix paint on her palette.

The ringing persisted. With an exasperated sigh she put down her brush and made her way downstairs. Some moron must be standing with their finger on the bell. The top portion of the front door was bevelled glass and through it she could see the outline of someone's head and shoulders. If it was yet another salesman cold calling, he would soon be sent on his way for interrupting her work. She flung open the door, green eyes blazing.

"Hello, June." He smiled at her through a pair of vibrantly blue eyes, taking in her dishevelled appearance at a glance. Her golden hair was secured on the top of her head in a plastic clip, with escaped strands framing her face. She was wearing a snug fitting denim skirt and a paint-splattered blue smock over a black sweater. On her feet were a pair of canvas shoes, both daubed with blobs of paint. "You have a paint smudge on your nose."

"Oh. It's you." She bristled and reached up to rub the smudge away but only succeeded in making it wider, much to the undisguised amusement of the visitor. The insufferable man had the gall to grin at her. One brow arched in that infuriating way he had. It didn't matter that she thought of herself as a confident, poised, 24-year-old woman - he somehow made her feel like a gauche teenager on the defensive.

"Obviously. It's damned cold out here on the doorstep. Are you going to invite me in?"

"No. I'm busy." She gave him one of her best glares and then stood aside as he barged past her and stepped into the hallway. He was already making himself at home by removing his jacket and hanging it on the coat stand at the bottom of the stairs. She fumed inwardly. What an irritating pig of a man.

The irritating pig of a man flashed a gleaming smile. "How's your dad?"

"He wasn't very good yesterday, but isn't too bad today. He's taking a nap. You probably woke him by ringing the doorbell," she said accusingly.

"Oh well, he did ask me to call round at 2pm."

"He's expecting you? He never mentioned it. What does he want to see you for?"

"Yes he's expecting me. I'll go up shall I?" the visitor said, making his way upstairs without bothering to wait for a response and deftly sidestepping her other question.