Winning Is Everything. Always.
When I want something, I make it my mission to get it. I haven’t failed yet, even when minor road bumps stand in my way. The art of seduction is not one that can be well defined. It twists and turns and bends and unfortunately for you, I don’t have a formula to offer; although we both know you’re just aching for one.
When I want something, I make it my mission to get it. I haven’t failed yet, even when minor road bumps stand in my way. The art of seduction is not one that can be well defined. It twists and turns and bends and unfortunately for you, I don’t have a formula to offer; although we both know you’re just aching for one. It’s about being perceptive, reading situations and working them in your favor.
I had my eye on him for quite some time, before we even met. His work, genius with strong sexual undertones that only exist when the creator is a true sexual deviant. A New York playboy through and through, his face always turned up in the local gossip rags from the most exclusive parties. Let’s call him The Artist.
There was something about him and I had to find out what it was. Tracking him down was easy and innocent in appearance; I wanted an interview for a story I had in the works. After weeks of telephone tag and FaceBook messages it seemed as though the game would be over before it started.
Fast-forward 5 months to New York Fashion Week; I had been involved in planning the party for a chic local art and fashion publication. The hotel lounge at Tribeca Grand was packed with all the right people; you know the types, artists, designers, models, musicians and the usual wannabes (or as GAWKER so affectionately coined “FAUXHEMIANS”). I knew he would be there.
In good form The Artist showed his face close to 2 AM. I introduced myself; he was even sexier in person than in photographs, his hair slightly tousled and his chin with just the right amount of stubble. I was dying to pull him into one of the dark booths that surrounded us; craving his hands all over me, pulling at my Marc Jacobs backless chiffon dress. Instead we chatted over champagne while his date kept interjecting her dull opinion. I had him exactly where I wanted him, it was only a matter of time before I moved in for the kill.
We parted ways, him suggesting drinks later in the week. I could tell by the way his eyes focused in on my mouth that he had no intention of talking work. I was aching to find out just how deviant The Artist really was.