IMA Journal - Louisa Fletcher
When I lived in Indiana, one semester at IUPUI I had a four hour break between classes on Tuesdays. Back then, the Indianapolis Museum of Art was free, so I would spend my afternoons there with a pencil and a Moleskine. I would sit for a few hours in front of one of the paintings and let my mind wander in it for a while. Then I would take my notebook and write a quick story, scene, narrative, or stream-of-consciousness from deep inside. This is one of those journals.
Mary Shepard Greene Blumenschein - Louisa Fletcher, 1912
She stepped back against the curtained wall for added support. Her hands were trembling slightly still from the excitement of it all. He was handsome, yes, but he was something more. He engaged her. He was direct. She was an equal.
His eyes spoke of a hidden power, like a wild lion buried under his gentlemen demure. She wanted him, that was no doubt, but she wanted more. She wanted him to release that power on her, to be controlled or uncontrolled, to be an animal.
Thoughts came rushing in such a torrent of feeling that her breath began to tremble. She beamed wild eyes across the room at the back of his head, begging in her mind that he would turn around and acknowledge her once again. Her hand slid along the curtain behind her and a sensual smile crept to her lips. She would catch him. It was one predator to another.
As he slowly turned to look once more in her direction, her heart sighed through her eyes with romance and suspense. She would have him.