Vignettes of a Master Read online

  And it was here. In this simple bedroom, lit by the filtered light of the moon, in this young woman’s face: a beauty so rare, and so pure that for long seconds I could do nothing more than marvel, and be humbled by the gift of her love that she had given me.

  Kelsey’s Korner Blog

  March, 19th.

  Jonah and Caroline at a bar.

  “Don’t do that,” I said softly, but there was steel in my words. “Don’t cover your leg. The dress has fallen off your thigh, and I like the fact that other men in the bar can see the soft silk of your skin.”

  Caroline nodded obediently. I could tell she was aroused, but she had been trained in obedience and part of her training had been for her to act in a demure manner unless ordered otherwise. This was a rare opportunity for the exhibitionist within her to be given life.

  She swung on her bar stool, turning to face the crowded, smoke-filled room properly. There was jazz music playing in the background and she caught the beat of the music and it seemed to resonate within her; she leaned away languidly and arched her spine. The move was natural, and yet in doing so her breasts thrust out hard against the fabric of her dress. I watched her face closely: the idea of being on display aroused her, and I ran my eyes across the faces of the men in the crowd, seeing a glint of hunger in the way they stared at her.

  Kelsey’s Korner Blog

  March, 19th.

  Jonah seeing Leticia across the room for the first time since she walked out of his life.

  Time stopped.

  There she was – there across the room. I felt the beat of my heart quicken, and a sudden tight fist seemed to seize my chest and squeeze it.

  I held my breath. Leticia came into the room holding a wine glass, with an older man beside her. She was wearing a dark blue dress that hung low to the ground so that her shoes peeped from beneath the hem of the fabric with every step she took.

  She looked beautiful – she seemed to glide across the carpet like love in motion, and I stood frozen as I watched her move amongst the crowd, laughing brightly, but the sound seeming artificial and forced in my ears.

  I backed away a pace, made to leave the room, but the crowd was thick around me as well-wishers sought to catch my attention, steal just a moment of my time. But I only had eyes for one woman.

  And then she saw me…

  Kelsey’s Korner Blog

  March, 19th.

  Jonah and Leticia waking up together.

  I lay perfectly still and gloated over her, aching to reach out, but denying myself and making the exquisite moment of anticipation linger until the ache to touch her was so fierce so as to be almost unbearable.

  Perhaps she sensed me, perhaps some instinct told her that I was watching her. Her eyes fluttered and she came awake dreamily, stirring beneath the satin sheet and arching her back voluptuously.

  I traced the tip of my finger across her cheek and she seemed to come instantly alive to me. Leticia’s eyes swam into focus and there was tenderness and loving in her expression. She sighed contentedly, and then there was a purr in the back of her throat filled with a more urgent, primitive meaning. I took her in my arms, bowed my head over hers, and stared deeply into her eyes for the longest time, until she finally lifted her face to mine, and I kissed her with a passion and hunger that I had never felt before.

  Kelsey’s Korner Blog

  March, 19th.

  Jonah and Leticia out in the rain.

  The rain fell in a soft grey curtain, misting the distant buildings and seeming to wrap itself around us so that, for a moment, it was just Leticia and I, walking together in a soft grey haze, removed from the world around us.

  “I love you, Jonah,” Leticia said suddenly, stopping and turning to stare up into my face. Raindrops hung from her eyelashes like sparkling little jewels, and she shook them away and blinked. She shivered – perhaps from the damp – perhaps from nerves. I stared down into her beautiful face, and reached out with my hand to cup her chin so that she couldn’t look away.

  I smiled. I looked past her shoulder and saw grey shapes looming out of the mist as people came from out of the distance and rushed past us on the sidewalk. I waited until they had passed, and until Leticia and I were alone again.

  All alone.

  “I have something to tell you,” I said softly. “Something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a very long time, Leticia. Something that just can’t wait to be said for a single moment longer…”

  This Redhead Loves Books

  March, 19th.

  Jonah and his father.

  “You’re not my son.”

  I’ll never forget those words, or the venom in the way the old man’s voice cracked like a whip as he stood by the firelight, his frail body ravaged by disease, but his eyes still blazing fiercely.

  “What do you mean? You disown me?”

  The Old Man shook his head, and his laugh became mocking. Then suddenly he coughed and his whole body was wracked with pain. “I mean you’re not mine. You’re not a real Noble. You were adopted.”

  I glared for long seconds, and felt the world I had known all my life suddenly tilt off its axis. I felt my mind reeling, felt everything around me begin to mist as the walls around me seemed to close in tight.

  Then I got mad.

  “Fuck you!” I said. “And fuck the Noble name.” I felt my hands clench into fists, and the anger fizzed the blood in my veins. “I might not be a Noble, but I’m a man – a better man than you ever were. You think you hurt me just then, by telling me I’m not your son? You old fool – you liberated me! You set me free of all this bullshit.”

  This Redhead Loves Books

  March, 19th.

  Jonah Noble watches Leticia put on make up.

  She stood before the mirror and made a pouting face, pursing her lips and holding lipstick up to her face. Then she saw me in the reflection of the mirror and she turned shyly.

  “Can’t a girl have a moment of privacy?”

  I shook my head and folded my arms, leaning in the doorway, watching her from a distance. “Leticia, I like to look at you. I like to watch you – the way you move, the gestures you make. You have a beautiful innocence about you that I can’t get enough of.”

  “Even when I’m putting on make up?” She laughed, and it was a throaty chuckle that sounded fresh and alive with the energy of her.

  “You don’t need make up,” I said. “You have rare natural beauty. You shouldn’t hide who you are behind a mask of cosmetics. And you should never wear red lipstick.”

  Leticia looked bemused. “I like red.”

  I smiled. “In ancient times women would paint their lips red to simulate the red fleshy colour of their aroused pussy. It was a subconscious way of attracting men. It said, loud and clear to all the men, that the woman was in a state of arousal. That’s why red lipstick to this day is associated with sex and sensuality.”

  Leticia blinked, then frowned, then looked aghast. “Oh, hell. Really?” She dropped the tube of lipstick like it was suddenly burning hot.

  This Redhead Loves Books

  March, 19th.

  Jonah Noble meets Jason Luke.

  I knew it was him. I knew it instantly.

  He was standing on the far side of the room, a man in his forties. He was maybe six feet tall, maybe an inch less. He had brown hair, turning grey and he looked like he hadn’t shaved for a couple of days. He was standing beside a beautiful young woman who was probably only half his age.

  It was Jason Luke, author of ‘Interview with a Master’.

  I strode across the room, feeling my anger rising with every step. We didn’t shake hands. The man had dark eyes. He looked like he was in reasonable shape. I nodded politely to his young girlfriend, and then turned on him.

  “You son of a bitch,” I snarled. “I’ve heard all the phone interviews you have been giving. You’re telling people that you don’t know if I’m going to live or die in the sequel!”

  Jason Luke nodded at me cal
mly. “That’s right,” he said in an Australian accent. “You got a problem with that?”

  “Yeah,” I growled. “I’ve got a big problem with that – and so have a lot of readers.”

  Luke shook his head and stared at me like he was suddenly sad, or maybe disappointed. “I am a reflection of you, Jonah. Characters are supposed to come alive to their writers and make their voices heard. It’s not up to me to decide if you live or die in the sequel… it’s up to you. So if you want to live through the second book, start acting like you want to live – and find something worth living for instead of waiting to die.”

  THAT WAS GREAT FUN!!!!!

  A note from Jason:

  This was the first time a reader had suggested the idea of me interacting with my characters and becoming part of the scene itself. As soon as I saw this suggestion posted, I seized on it straight away – because it appealed to my wicked sense of humor. In the weeks ahead, these scenes where reality and fiction collided proved to be the most popular paragraphs of all.

  This Redhead Loves Books

  March, 19th.

  Jonah Noble undresses Leticia.

  “Do I get undressed?” Leticia asked nervously. She was trembling.

  I shook my head and hunted towards her from out of the shadows. She was standing beside the bed. I ghosted up behind her and brushed my hand across her shoulder. She gasped, and I felt her flinch.

  “It’s okay,” I whispered softly in her ear. “Just stand there, and don’t move. I will undress you.”

  There was a long pause, and I let the seconds draw out, heightening her sense of anticipation as I ran my fingers slowly across her shoulder until my hands were light around her throat. I could feel the warmth of her body radiating through her clothes as I pressed myself against her.

  I unfastened the top button of her blouse.

  “Undressing a woman is an experience, not a task,” I said. “Each layer removed reveals something exquisite – something beautiful. Unwrapping a woman before taking her to bed is like a long slow walk through a gallery of fine artworks – each new piece is to be admired, and enjoyed before moving on to the next.”

  I unfastened the second button of her blouse, and my words remained a soft sensual whisper in her ear. I could feel her trembling, as if tiny electric currents were jolting up the length of her spine each time my fingers brushed against her soft warm flesh.

  I unfastened the third button of her blouse, lingering and enjoying the feel of her body and breasts before the moment when I turned her to face me and gazed at last upon the masterpiece that was this woman’s beautiful body.

  Literati Book Reviews

  March, 21st.

  Jonah’s father and Trigg.

  “You did what?” the Old Man’s face was twisted in a rictus of pain and horror.

  “I’ve been poisoning you,” Trigg said, the soft caring exterior suddenly swept away like some kind of a mask to reveal the true bitterness of her feelings. “Ever since I became your doctor,” she added.

  “Why?” The Old Man groped at his stomach as another wicked blade of sharp pain stabbed somewhere deep within him. He clutched at the mantelpiece above the fireplace and his bony hand seized into a claw.

  “Because I hate you,” Trigg said simply. “I’ve been poisoning you for months. Who would suspect your caring family doctor of doing such a thing?” She laughed and there was an evil ring in the hollow sound of her voice as it echoed off the dark paneled walls. “And do you want to know something….? Something you won’t be able to do anything about? Something that will haunt you in your grave…?”

  The Old Man gasped, wheezed, and the blood drained away from his ravaged features. “What?” he croaked.

  “Jonah is next,” Trigg said with venom. “I’m his family doctor too,” the words were an ominous warning. “He will suffer too. I promise you that.”

  Literati Book Reviews

  March, 21st.

  Leticia unconscious at the hospital with Jonah by her side.

  There were tubes and hoses running from her arm, and a mask over her face. She lay perfectly still, the bedside machines keeping her alive.

  It broke my heart.

  I stared down at the crumpled shape of her limbs beneath the stiff linen sheet, and saw the brutal harsh shapes of splints that made jagged points through the fabric.

  Her face looked untouched. Her hair was a tangled mess, fanned out across the pillow, her eyes closed. There was a furrow across her brow as though maybe she was just sleeping… but she wasn’t.

  Leticia was dying.

  Doctors and nurses hovered in the background. I sensed them but never saw them. They were like anonymous spectators on the edge of a crowd. I reached down and took Leticia’s hand in mine. Her skin was soft and cool. I entwined our fingers and gripped tightly, trying somehow to reach her through the force and intensity of all the emotion I felt. I felt the scalding burn of tears at the corner of my eye and I took a deep breath and threw my head back to the ceiling, overcome with the pain and anguish and devastating loneliness that swept over me like a crashing wave.

  “Don’t die,” I whispered. “Please don’t die. I’ve only just come to life, Leticia. I can’t lose you now.”

  Literati Book Reviews

  March, 21st.

  Jonah sees Leticia dining out with another man.

  Leticia rose from the table, pressed at her hair vainly, and then smiled down at the man sitting across from her. I saw her lips move and then she smiled weakly. She came towards where I was sitting and stood at the edge of my table. She folded her arms across her chest, and there was a nervous, anxious expression on her face.

  “Jonah – so good to see you again.”

  I didn’t smile. I nodded, and looked pointedly across the restaurant at the man she was dining with. “A date?”

  Leticia shrugged.

  I inclined my head, and then looked up into her face with cold, disapproving eyes. “He’s not the man for you Leticia. He looks like a ‘namer’.”

  “A namer?” she sounded confused, as though the term was unfamiliar.

  I nodded. “He looks like the kind of man who has a name for his penis. Most men don’t like all their important decisions being made by a stranger, so they give their cock a name. He looks like he thinks with his dick. You could do better. You need a real man who thinks about you before he thinks about himself.”

  Literati Book Reviews

  March, 21st.

  Jonah and Leticia stuck in a lift.

  There was a sharp scream of steel from somewhere overhead and then the elevator braked with a sudden jolt – and the lights went out.

  I reached for Leticia in the dark, felt her arm and pulled her close to me. “Stay calm,” I said. “It’s nothing to be worried about.”

  Leticia’s voice sounded uncertain. “I… I don’t like the dark,” she said. “When I was a kid I had nightmares.”

  I said nothing for a long moment. I tightened my grip on her arm and moved until my body was pressed reassuringly close to hers. “The dark is nothing to be scared of,” I kept my voice calm. “In fact, the dark is the most wonderful place, Leticia. In the dark your imagination can wander to any place you want. In the dark, the whole world becomes a new and fascinating thing. You just need to make sure you keep your thoughts ordered, and your imagination focused on the things you want to see. Don’t give in to fearful thoughts – they’re not real. And positive thoughts have much more power.”

  “What kind of positive thoughts?”

  “Anything,” I said, shrugging, although she couldn’t see the gesture. The blackness enveloped us. “What do you think about most of all?”

  “You,” she said softly. “I think about you… and me…”

  “You mean sexy thoughts?”

  “Uhuh… they are my happy thoughts,” she said, suddenly becoming bolder, as if the darkness had given her a cloak to hide behind and allowed her to reveal a glimpse into her inner desires.


  “Well…” I said slowly… “Then let me show you how those happy thoughts can be made real. Tell me what you imagine us doing, and I’ll make it happen – right here, and right now.”

  She gasped.

  Sinfully Sexy Book Reviews

  March, 24th.

  Jonah Noble alone in his study.

  I sat alone in the dark. Outside my window a grey blanket of clouds hung low over the distant mountains. I could see the faint wink of far off lights like pinpricks in the night as scudding mist hung like a shroud, smearing away the mountain peaks and wrapping the twilight sky in a heavy grey blanket.

  My eyes drifted back over the darkening shapes of my desk: files, paperwork, a dust-covered statue of the Egyptian deity, Horus. I closed my eyes and sat back heavily in the chair.

  Dust to dust…

  Not a minute passed that I didn’t think of Leticia; recall the brilliant, disarming flash of her smile, or the innocent beauty of her features, or the quizzical way she tilted her head and watched me as I paced the room telling my story.

  Not a minute passed where the pain in my chest and the ache in my heart did not threaten to well up tight and strangle me.

  Sometimes doing the right thing can feel so very wrong.

  Would that line be my epitaph?

  I mused darkly. Would that noble sentiment be the words carved into my headstone – the phrase the world would remember me by?