Author's Notes at the bottom…
Disclaimer: I own Sailor Moon. I own Michelangelo. I own a really pretty white cell with padded walls, a bed with straps to keep me tucked in at night and bars on my windows for decoration. Naoko owns SM, Michelangelo owns himself, and I own a big imagination and not enough space to let it roam.
**********
Il Divino
Part 2
Rated PG-13 plus!
12th, April 1491
Medici Palazzo
Lorenzo's Library
(Serena's view)
"Mmmmmm," I moaned.
His lips were a welcomed memory.
Over and over, again and again he slanted his soft lips over mine, sucking the very soul out of me.
His hand lifted to lie against the curve of my backside. When his hand drifted downward I stiffened in shock, and then memory.
Pulling back I winced when I saw his swollen lips and dark, smoldering eyes.
His lips curved in satisfaction.
Mine tensed from my lack of discipline.
I drew my hand back.
And slapped his cheek with all my pent up resentment.
"Li odio."
His eyes widened in shock.
Sniffling I left the library and *him*.
I had barely made it to the stairs when a hand grabbed my wrist and tugged.
I turned and stared at him.
"What do you want?" I spat.
"Serena," he began.
I pulled at my arm, trying to release myself from his grip.
I had no interest in what he had to say.
No interest at all.
So, don't ask me to explain the disappointment I felt at his next words...
"The picture...the painting your Uncle commissioned...when do you want me to begin?"
Taking a deep breath I replied flatly, "Tomorrow. I would have this inconvenience completed with all due haste."
He nodded, the picture of respect. But when he raised his head, his eyes mocked me, dared me.
However, *this* time I refused the challenge.
Nodding curtly I turned away from the smirking beast and made my way upstairs, all semblance of dignity stripped as his eyes devoured me from behind.
**********
(Darien's view)
'That went well,' I thought.
I stood there in the entranceway, at the bottom of the stairs watching the retreating figure of *my* angel disappear.
A chuckle distracted me and I looked around irritably.
Michelangelo stood immersed in the shadows, the Devil's advocate amused by the workings of the humble.
Holding a silver flask he raised it in salute.
He emerged from the shadows and quirked a brow in question.
"Things went well," I replied almost desperately.
He sighed and handed me the flask.
**********
15th, April 1491
(Darien's view)
I stood in the stifling hot sitting room uncomfortably. I ran a hand under my collar cursing stubborn females.
She was late *again*.
If this was revenge, then revenge was hell.
I paced irritably, wondering for the hundredth time what devil had possessed me.
No devil.
But an angel
An angel entering the room at this very instant.
As she had on our first *official* meeting, she was wearing a high necked and stiff contraption known as a dress. But this was no ordinary dress...this was the dress of a spinster, a prude, a matron. Her beautiful golden hair was pulled back tightly and pinned beneath a white lace cap. Her lips, those lips I had devoured with passion, were drawn.
She was trying to distract from her beauty and light.
She was trying.
But I knew.
I knew of the hidden passion lying under those layers of breeding.
The violent, turbulent fury that lay under my own calm veneer...we were the same.
Try as she might to destroy that.
She bade me no welcome, refused to acknowledge my presence, really.
She sat stiffly in a high backed chair, her body held rigidly.
How I wanted to strip her of that pretense.
Vacating my easel I grabbed my sketchbook and walked over to the lady. I pulled a chair over and sat directly across from her.
Our knees barely touched but I could feel the whisper of the fabric pulling at me.
She remained haughty.
But like any sculptor I dared challenge the heart of stone. I would take up my scalpel and chip away at the offending rock until a beautiful soul emerged. I would dare to play at Pygmalion.
I stared at her. I stared long and intently, mocking her facade.
I ran my pencil across the paper as I kept my gaze fastened to her face.
"Your eyes," I began as I sketched the beautiful orbs, "are the blue of passion, a lover's blue, a woman's blue after she has been fulfilled. Your lips are the lips of a siren, they call to men, begging for release."
Her mouth parted slightly, her breath hitched, her face was glowing.
Satisfied with her reaction I leaned in…
She immediately stiffened.
The barrier was up again.
Completely disgruntled I heaved a sigh.
She turned her head, but call me a fool, because I saw her amused smile.
Time for a different tactic.
"Actually," I began mildly, my body resonating blasé, "Your eyes are the color of dirty pond water, your hair the color of wet straw, and heaven help you lady, but those lips remind me of a corpse."
I saw her lips twitch.
Encouraged I went on, "Your manners are abominable...what Lady eats with spoon and knife instead of her hands?"
A giggle escaped her twitching mouth and she raised her glowing eyes.
My body reacted as though hit by a thousand needles. Instantly awake my palms tingled, my belly cramped, my mouth anticipated.
What surprised me though was not my body's reaction to a beautiful woman, but my lips urge to smile, ready to burst with laughter, and my heart filled with tangible sunlight.
Giving in to my urges, my mouth quivered slightly before turning upwards into a huge smile.
"Serena," I murmured, stunned, scared, and excited.
The merriment left her eyes abruptly to be replaced with something deeper.
He face softened and her hand rose to stroke my-
BANG!
The door to the sitting room burst open.
Her hand dropped and she resumed her former position.
Il Duce stood in the doorway.
Serena's mouth tightened, her hands clenched.
I could feel her anxiety.
I stood and bowed to the Duke.
"Ah, Endymion my boy,"
"Endymion, sir?" I asked him confused.
"Oh yes. I forgot to mention...I changed your name. Darien is so *common* don't you think?"
A smile plastered on my face, I nodded.
I saw Serena sniff in disgust.
Whether for her Uncle, or me I did not know.
Il Duce turned towards Serena.
"My dear niece, you are looking beautiful as usual. However, as much as I would enjoy spending my day wasting away and contemplating your beneficial beauty I am a man and busy with a man's duty. Endymion and I have much to discuss and it would distress me to bore your pretty little head."
I saw Serena's face twist in distress.
She got up gracefully and bid us good day.
I turned to her Uncle who wanted to discuss future commissions and the display of my works.
I sighed. Suddenly the day seemed longer.
**********
(Serena's view)
Wandering around the grounds I bristled at the remembrance of my Uncle's words.
How like him. He wasn't just a typical man of the time; he exemplified it. He stood as a beacon of ignorance and male dominance.
He infuriated me.
To act the coy, obedient maid…my mind protested such a fate.
Hearing the raucous laughter of men at *play* I headed towards the area reserved for painters.
Standing behind the bushes I contemplated this shadowed existence.
The men playfully admonished each other, teased one other.
I saw one of my aunt's maids enter into the foray, her hips swishing back and forth.
I wanted to run out and warn her when I saw the lecherous grins appear on the men's faces.
There was no need.
She walked from man to man, flirting shamelessly.
I could not understand how she could demean herself so.
All the men gathered around her…the bees to the honey…only this time the honey was sexuality.
I looked at this scene of debauchery in disgust.
Only one man stood apart.
As I looked closer, I discovered it to be Michelangelo.
And he was staring directly at me.
He was cocky, disrespectful, and apparent.
He smiled at me…but it wasn't one of shared mirth, one of camaraderie.
It was malevolent.
My body shook nervously.
I heard the pounding of footsteps and immersed myself back in the shadows.
I saw Darien walk furiously towards Michelangelo.
He was agitated, livid.
His arms waved frantically as he spoke furiously, before turning abruptly and walking away.
Curious, I watched his departing form, until he was no more.
So intent was I that I failed to notice my companion.
"You've broken his heart," Michelangelo remarked blandly.
I turned around in surprise. I raised an eyebrow.
"You mock me sir," I replied, "What heart?"
His eyes flashed and for a moment I felt fear.
But his eyes lost all emotion and resumed their normal, blank appearance.
"Of course," he chuckled merrily, "You were nothing but a conquest to him. You still are, thought at this point I imagine his interests will fall elsewhere…where a willing participant lies," he nodded towards my aunt's maid.
My heart clenched.
I ran off, my mind occupied with Darien's betrayal.
I did not notice the smirk that rose willingly on Michelangelo's lips.
**********
(Darien's view)
I sat alone in the darkness of my small room.
I was still seething over Il Duce's underhanded and selfish tactics. He spared no thoughts to my wants, my needs.
I had even thought of giving up this desire; but images of my angel consumed my every breath.
Damn Michelangelo! What was he thinking of when he proposed his stupid idea to the Duke!
I was feeling desperate.
Needy.
And broken.
A furious pounding at my door made me wearily get up to unlock it.
As I opened the door a small flurry ran in.
I looked down at Serena in shock.
Her cheeks were flushed and I wondered at the cause.
Hoping it to be from love, I was a tad bit disappointed when she raised her eyes and glared at me.
"Sere-"
"How dare you!" She screamed, "I am NOT one of your whores to be played with and then cast aside. I am a lady. A woman of noble birth. You are not worthy of the most painful of deaths!"
I was speechless.
She looked at me furiously.
She raised her hand to slap me again and I prepared myself.
She collapsed instead.
She sat on my floor, a dejected little girl crying her heart out.
My breathing stopped and I felt suffocated.
Reaching down, I picked her up and carried her to my bed. Sitting down I placed he gently on my lap. She sobbed her heart out and tears dripped down my own face.
To see my beautiful blossom a wilted flower tore at the very core of me.
We cried together until our bodies could handle no more.
She sniffled and raised her head. She looked at my wet face curiously. Quietly she raised her small hand and gently placed it on my cheek.
I leaned my face into its soothing softness.
"Sono spiacente," I whispered, "I never, NEVER thought of you as such. You were always an angel, a bright flash of light that I wanted for that one second you would be allowed in my arms."
She laid her head against my shoulder and I felt my body shake.
"What witchcraft do you play at?" I asked her dazed.
"Witchcraft sir?" she asked confused.
"You have stolen my very soul…I cannot breathe without comparing the stale air to your freshness, I cannot look at anything without despairing at its inequality to your beauty, I cannot taste without mourning the loss of your mouth, the only nourishment I need. Yes, witchcraft, what have you done to make me so?"
She looked at me with wonder.
Her smile
And I could not control myself. I lowered my head and captured her mouth in mine.
It was better…stronger…more heart consuming.
She wrapped her arms around my neck, bringing her closer in contact with me. Her young body pressed against mine. She knew not what she did, but my body reacted immediately.
I groaned with unsatisfied pain.
She looked up her face flushed, her mouth pouted, her eyes glassy.
It was all I could do not to continue to ravenously consume her.
She saw my tortured face, my mouth clenched, eyes squinting and her forehead creased with worry.
She looked at me mutely, asking what was wrong.
She was such an innocent; she could barely understand her own needs, let alone mine.
I shifted around, trying to ease my *pain* and resettled her in my lap.
She snuggled against my chest, breathing softly and contently. I ran my hand through her silky hair, letting my hands get lost in their depths. She murmured something and I pulled away as to hear her.
"What?" I asked her.
Her voice was subdued and somber. She spoke so quietly, as though ashamed, and I had to strain to hear her words.
"Why did Michelangelo say such cruel falsities?"
I looked at her shocked.
"Michelangelo!?" I exclaimed, disbelieving.
She looked at me sadly.
"Yes, it was he who told me that I was your whore, a plaything, a, a,"
Her eyes started tearing up again and she broke off.
I held her tighter, even as my mind tried to understand her words.
"Cara," aching for her.
She wrapped her arms more forcefully around my neck, almost as though scared that she would lose me. I moved my hand up and down her back, trying to comfort her.
"I know," she began, "I know that you and Michelangelo are friends…but Darien, why? Why would he say such malicious and hurtful things? Why?"
"He did not, could not mean such things. I know him Serena. He is a hard and solitary man, but not unnecessarily cruel. I am sure he was joking with you. I know it. And I will talk to him about it as soon as possible."
I looked at her hopefully, praying that she would not make me choose.
She looked down warily, defeated, and I wondered at her thoughts.
I raised her chin with my hand and smiled lovingly at her.
"Angel, I do believe you have captured my heart."
She smiled regretfully.
"Yes," she answered, "But how much of it is really mine? How much belongs to someone else?"
I looked at her, not understanding her sorrowful mood. But I was a bit anxious to know of her feelings for me. My eyes locked into hers expectantly.
And after a short moment of silence, she finally smiled at my widened eyes.
"Si, Darien, si."
**********
2 hours later
(Serena's view)
We had talked for hours. I told him of my passion for the arts and he laughed at my imitation of Uncle. He promised to assist me in any possible manner in my pursuit of painting.
He told me of his childhood, left behind as a baby with no name. The nuns at the abbey had named him Darien for. They were his mother and father. He did not know where this obsession for art originated.
"Maybe you were destined for it," I told him jauntily.
He looked at me seriously.
"We make our own destinies, Serena," he replied.
iIt was as though a whole new window opened for
me --his powerful words-- I could reach out and live, for the first time in
my life.
What a concept. My uncle had planned my life from the very day mother had moved into the Palazzo. To think that I could defy his very wishes was a heady idea.
I left his lap to stare out his tiny window. Twirling around and around I laughed giddily.
He stared at me stunned.
I giggled at his expression.
"Lets run away Darien, lets be painters together and live sinfully," I told him hysterically.
He shook his head.
He grabbed my hands and pulled me on to the bed next to him.
"Listen to me Serena. I meant what I said. We make our own destinies. But sometimes, sometimes, there are things that interfere. Do you understand?" Darien said, somewhat anxiously.
I shook my head.
No, I did not understand.
"Your uncle Serena. Your uncle. We are merely pawns in his game. His hand our actions, his mind our fate, desires, wants, needs! Dammit, do you understand me?" He was riled up, frustrated, and I knew not why.
The desperate look in his eyes scared me. It was not him.
"Darien?" I asked timidly.
He sighed wearily.
"Yes, Serena?"
"What happened? I saw you rant at Michelangelo. What happened with my Uncle?"
He sighed again, and I grew frightened.
"Serena, promise me that no matter what I tell you, you will not be upset. Promise me."
Even more nervous I nodded. I trusted him. How could I not when he was my other half. But I was nervous. His tirade about my Uncle did not bode well for our future. If we even had one.
"The painting of you, your Uncle commissioned…it was a sham. I merely wanted an opportunity to apologize for my behavior on that afternoon in the forest."
"Was that all you wanted Darien?" I asked quite gravely.
"No Serena, you know the answer to that is no. I wanted, I had to see you. I thought it lust at first but I was deluding myself. Lust doesn't scare me. What I feel for you, the depth of my feelings for you, that scares me. We are not equals Serena. I know that does not matter to you. But be it that, it matters to our society, to your uncle. What he will do if he ever finds out, that scares me. And I am scared for you. You appear to me a heavenly being on this world, in my arms for a short time only. I am a mere mortal. How can I compare to your goodness, innocence? And how will I ever let you go?" (AN: Anybody want some coffee with that sugar? Ohhhh, I got carried away. Do forgive me…too much caffeine. Don't ya hate sugary-sweet stuff?)
Tears welled in my eyes.
Oh Darien. I wont let you. I wont ever let you.
I threw myself into his arms.
They stood motionless at his side before wrapping around me tightly.
He buried his face in my hair, wetting it with his precious tears.
I felt incompetent. I did not know how to comfort this man/boy. So I loved him.
"Genoa," he whispered.
"What?" I asked, "I don't understand."
"Your Uncle is sending me to Genoa."
"Why?!" I cried.
"It was Michelangelo's idea. He thought it would benefit my art. Your Uncle agreed."
"You cannot," I told him defiantly.
He lifted his head. His eyes were red and endless.
"You do not understand Serena. Your Uncle had commanded it. I must obey my benefactor."
I shoved my hand up to my mouth, to stifle the sobs. My eyes must have reflected his.
"Then I will have to go with you."
"Serena?!"
He was shocked. But delighted.
**********
Later that night
Medici Palazzo
(Serena's view)
"But you must Uncle! You must!"
My Uncle looked bored.
But then I was just a mere female, right?
Right.
More determined than ever to beat this old man, I pulled out as many feminine wiles as I had ever learned.
I widened my eyes, I cried, I simpered, I flattered, I cooed. I made myself sick.
But it worked.
Especially the flattery. How like a typical *Renaissance* man.
"You have a friend there?" he asked, at ease now with my request.
I worked hard enough for it.
"Yes, Uncle, a friend from finishing school. (AN: I know, I know…but it has to fit with the story, so I am using creative liscence, ok? Ok?!)Liza de Lanza."
My Uncle looked impressed.
And meditative.
"Does she have any male relations?" My Uncle asked.
Typical. Like I said, typical.
"Si, I do believe she has some cousins who are the heirs."
My Uncle nodded approvingly.
"You cannot go alone. It is too dangerous, and I too rich and powerful to escape the wrath of the peasantry."
I nodded, pretending to be deep in thought over this present dilemma.
"No, it cannot be done. I will not send you alone."
I pouted.
"But Uncle, think of poor Liza. Is there no one headed to Genoa? No one?" I asked compellingly.
My Uncle thought for a few minutes.
My lady's maid interrupted at that *very* moment with news of Michelangelo's arrival at the Palazzo. She stared nervously at me and I nodded approvingly.
It is incredible how wonderfully well servants learn how to spy and gossip about their masters.
Even more so, that I was actually able to put it to good use.
My Uncle shooed her off, still deep in contemplation of heirs.
"Uncle, Michelangelo is waiting," I told him reminding him of this apparent *choice* of an escort.
"Yes, yes, niece, but about an esco-That's it! I am absolutely brilliant. Michelangelo, himself, is traveling to Genoa in a fortnight. With an appropriate guard and your maids, you can accompany him and Endymion to Genoa. And even more wonderful, Endymion can continue to paint your portrait, perhaps even as a gift to your future husband," my Uncle continued conspiratorially.
Not if I had my way.
But I nodded to keep him happy.
Ecastic, I left my Uncle, knowing that Darien had accompanied Michelangelo and would be wandering around the gardens.
**********
The Medici Gardens
I couldn't find Darien anywhere. Exasperated I meandered around the flowers and trees wondering where my love could be. I was absolutely ready to burst with excitement.
I wanted to shout with excitement, I wanted to hug the world. I wanted to kiss my boy. So, where was he?!
Oh.
He was at *that* place.
The hidden sanctuary where we first met.
Tracing the steps my feet had taken that *first* day I walked into the forest surrounded by a memory. I wasn't scared when I heard whistling. This time I knew it wasn't a wild animal. Well, not too wild at least.
I saw the familiar trees and the little hollow large enough for a person to squeeze through. Walking as quietly as possible I slipped through the crack and entered the hollow.
"What took you so long?" asked the man in front of me.
I stared at that wide, strong back.
He turned around and smirked.
"Hello love."
I threw myself into his arms.
He caught me and managed to stand upright. He held me tightly.
"Umgonwthyu," I murmured into his chest.
"What?" he asked.
I pulled back and smiled delightedly into his dear, confused face.
"I am going with you," I told him.
He looked astonished.
Ah, the wonders of being a woman.
He threw his arms back around me and this time I staggered under the weight.
"Il mio amore."
**********
A Fortnight Later
The Medici Palazzo
Preparations before leaving
(Darien's view)
Michelangelo was a bit peeved when he found out Serena was coming with us to Genoa.
We were waiting in front of the palazzo for the carriages, yes multiple carriages, to be loaded with *stuff,* yes, Serena and her maid's *stuff.*
He looked at me suspiciously.
I shrugged and tried my best "I am innocent" look.
I had spoken to Michelangelo earlier in the week about Serena's accusations.
My friend had been appalled. He felt terrible. Michelangelo had cried that he would never fabricate such an audacious rumor. He told me that it was jealousy that had caused another painter to spread the foul lies.
*****
Flashback
"Jealousy of what?" I asked confused.
Michelangelo replied, "Of your relationship with Serena, IL Duce and myself. Darien, you are such an innocent. Every day is a fight for survival. Your relationships will help you reach success and success means immortality. Signor Allan is jealous of you and he hoped that his rumors would reach Il Duce's ears. Thus you would lose your commission and be cast out. I only said such things to Serena hoping to end this situation, knowing you would want to deal with it. I never meant to hurt the girl."
I smiled at Michelangelo.
"Gracie, my friend."
End Flashback
*****
I wasn't quite sure how Serena took the news, but to be honest, I was too caught up in our forthcoming trip.
Michelangelo slinked up to me and whispered, "What is going on between you and Serena, Darien? It had better not be serious."
I don't know why, but something told me to lie to my best friend, Michelangelo.
I smirked.
"She is a bit more difficult than I expected," I lied, "But fun, Michelangelo, she is very fun. There is no need to worry. This is just an attempt to get her from under Il Duce's nose."
Michelangelo nodded his approval.
We were interrupted as the topic of our conversation came bounding down the steps.
She winked as she passed me and I had to stifle a chuckle.
Lorenzo walked over to Michelangelo and me.
"Me dear boys," he began, clasping a hand on our shoulders, "You protect my most valuable *asset.* Do not let anything happen to her. You understand, of course, that I do hate having my orders disobeyed."
Michelangelo and I bowed our heads in acquiesce.
"Good, good," he exclaimed jovially, "Now on to more important matters. This female friend of Serena's-she has two cousins, heirs to Lanza de Genoa, the Prince of Genoa. I want you to act in my stead Michelangelo, not as guardian, but more like mentor. Foster a relationship between my young niece and one of those young gentlemen. It will be most beneficial to us all."
This last part was said with a sly grin.
My mouth tightened at the thought of Serena and another man.
Michelangelo looked at me.
I made myself smile for his benefit.
Or maybe it was really for mine.
**********
A few hours later
(Serena's view)
We rode in separate carriages. I rode in one with my maid, Mariella.
She chattered throughout the long hours.
The carriage rolled from side to side, lulling me off to sleep.
My maid woke me around midnight…we had reached the inn where we would stay overnight.
Finally, a chance to see Darien.
My maid and I wearily made our way towards comfort and warmth. The innkeeper stood at the door and immediately began fawning over me. There were a few disreputable people wandering about, staring lewdly at my entourage and me. Bt I knew Uncle's guards would protect me.
What I hadn't expected, or wanted, was their protecting me from my love.
They refused to let Michelangelo or Darien near the private dining hall we had procured.
I could hear Michelangelo swearing profusely…but the guard adamantly refused.
Although disappointed at losing the opportunity to see Darien, I did not regret the lack of Michelangelo's company.
When Darien had told me Michelangelo's response to my accusations, I did not believe a whit of it. But my love adored his friend. It would not fall upon me to enlighten him about his *friend.*
Mariella and I enjoyed each other's company through dinner; she is quite a delight to be around when Uncle is not present to *torment* her.
After our supper, the innkeeper's wife showed us to our rooms, and once again the guards stood ready and waiting to protect us.
**********
At daybreak, Mariella somehow managed to awaken me and after bundling up we set off again.
I had yet to say a word to Darien and had not even seen him for hours.
It was dark when we finally reached Genoa.
We reached the acquired house my Uncle had secured weeks earlier and I was disappointed to hear that Darien would not be in the same vicinity.
However, it was too late and I was too tired to care for much more than sleep at the moment.
**********
The next morning I sent a messenger to the house of de Lanza, informing them of our arrival.
A few hours later I received a reply notifying me of the family's absence. The de Lanza's held interests in shipping and a very rich one at that. Liza and her father were in France awaiting one of their ships and the arrival of Liza's two cousins, the *heirs.* I was ecastic! I knew Michelangelo would be too busy to hang around Darien…he had some important commission and would spend all hours to complete it.
Finally.
A gift from the heavens.
Ten days alone!
**********
Four days later
The bastard!
Where was he?!
I had sent him countless messages. Why hadn't he replied?
It had been four days since our arrival in Genoa, almost five since I had last seen or spoken to him! And he called me his love?!
How dare he!
Fuming, I paced the lady's sitting room ready to tear the paintings off the wall. I had a sweet desire to break all those lovely Greek vases. I was dying for a taste of that amber liquid I saw calling me from its glass pitcher.
I was mad.
Mariella knocked timidly on the sitting room's door and I growled. She opened the door and peeked her head inside.
"My lady, the house is secure and the guards have left. May I persuade you to please come with me upstairs? It is late my lady and-"
I grunted and allowed my alarmed maid to pull me upstairs.
In my chambers Mariella tried to help me get ready for bed. I shooed her away and she made ready to sleep in her usual spot…the cot at the foot of my bed.
No way.
I wanted to be alone tonight.
I pointed to the door and said," Leave me Mariella. I want to be alone tonight."
My maid looked scandalized.
"But my Lady-" she began.
I waved her opposition away.
"Out."
I really was not in a happy mood.
She bowed her head and muttering left my room.
Silence.
I sighed, a bit more content.
I brushed my hair out, the soothing motions calming my nerves. I reached around my back to try and unhook my dress. My arms strained to reach the fastenings.
A helping hand nudged my inept fingers away and I sighed in relief.
The fastenings came undone and my dress slipped to the floor.
I stood naked in the fire-warmed room.
"Thank you Mariel-"
I faltered.
I had just sent my maid to bed. I had seen her walk out the door. There was no other entrance to my room. Unless someone had been standing there the whole time, hidden and waiting.
I gasped.
A hand grabbed my shoulder and yanked me around.
I stood in front of him, naked and shivering.
His eyes devoured me.
"I want to paint you Serena…
Nude."
**********
ACK! Please don't throw fireballs!!! Ack, a rock! A tomato! A dog bone? A rotten banana! A, Hey! A Mamo-chan dolly!!! YAY!
Ugh, so was that absolutely awful? If so please send all flames to my recycle bin! All helpful comments to make this story any better please send to RayondeLune77@aol.com
Translations:
Li odio-I hate you
Sono spiacente-I am sorry
Cara-dear
Si-yes
Il mio amore-my love
AN: I really have nothing to say! Silly Shana. But I DO have lots and lots of people to thank!!!!
Sake-chan: OhMyGosh!!! You are SuperGirl Reader! I thank you for prereading my story and letting me borrow Aya-kun Original Clone #1 plush doll! But I still think Aya is mine!
April: Ohhhh, my favoritest person in the WHOLE WORLD! I have one thing to say…Mamo-chan is MINE!!!!
Loralei: Did I win this time? Xex is Mine! But I like you and I love your stories :)
Hmmm, does anyone else see a pattern here? *giggle* Girls, tsk tsk, how many times do I have to tell you that these boys are too OLD for you!!!
Silver-chan: Did anyone notice my Italian?! Did ya did ya? Weeell, if it is any better :) then it is all due to the help of my Resident Good Fairy Silver-chan! Thankies!
Keisha: Thank you to my wittle Aussie friend! I appreciate our discussions and all your really helpful compliments.
Thanks also to the WONDERFUL SMRFF list…you guys are Incredible!!!!
MG: thanks for support…from your # 1 fan…you owe me a story!
Visit the SMRFF fanfic site…make the counter go up and up and compliment Sue on all her hard work:
http://www.crosswinds.net/~smrff/
Wells, that is all :) Thanks for taking the time to read this!
Shana
(
geocities.com/tokyo/villa/6303/FICS) (
geocities.com/tokyo/villa/6303) (
geocities.com/tokyo/villa) (
geocities.com/tokyo)