Page 87 of Wicked Design
“That’s probably them.” She bolted down the hall.
Lauren called out, “The guys and Marnie are here.”
After the new arrivals enjoyed a short tour of the house, garage, and grounds, everyone gathered in the living room around Van Gogh’s laptop, plates and drinks in hand. Molly enjoyed her bottle in the playpen.
Clover took in the adult crowd. “Everyone able to see?”
Her dad sat on the floor in front of her mom. She braided his waist-length hair. They both nodded.
The others did, too.
Clover massaged Van Gogh’s shoulders. If they got any tenser, he’d need muscle relaxers. She kissed his cheek. “Bite the bullet and turn it on.”
“It’s still not perfect. I could have done much more.”
“You will with the others we do.”
Tor choked on his beer and coughed. “He barely lived through this one.”
Lauren pointed her bottled water at the screen. Pregnant, she couldn’t drink. “That opening photo is great.”
He’d used the banner shot from the convention and splashed the words Clover Cuffs across the model’s thighs.
“I should have used a different color for the text.” He squinted. “It’s too hard to read.”
“Is not. Turn it on. I’ll help.” Clover pushed his finger over the mouse. The cursor shot wildly across the screen.
Noah and Kyle clapped, both men gorgeous, Kyle blond, Noah dark-haired. Seated between them, Jasmina slapped their thighs. They kissed her cheeks and behaved.
Van Gogh eased Clover’s hand from his. “I have it. Here goes.”
Haunting yet powerful strains sounded. Luke’s composition. Clover had persuaded him and the band to contribute.
The opening shot faded, replaced by the room she’d envisioned. Photographed at Tor and Marnie’s house, Van Gogh had Photoshopped their white walls to black and added his most intense paintings later, along with his easel to the side and her cuffs on a small table, everything digitally produced and enhanced.
The music swelled then drifted away, replaced by Van Gogh’s on-screen narration. “Want to create the perfect fantasy?” His deep voice rasped with lust. “Want to make your lady yours?”
Luke’s band went into complete metal mode, the tune and their singing super rough.
Van Gogh strode into the scene, hooded as Clover had suggested. His tats on full display as she’d hoped. Except for his black jeans, he was naked.
No guy would ever be hotter. She whistled through her teeth. “You are freaking gorgeous.”
The men laughed. The women smiled.
He groaned.
“Oh, hey, here’s where I come in.” Clover pointed.
She paraded into view and faced the camera, clad in her vintage bustier, spike heels, and black short-shorts that Van Gogh had begged her to don. Too bad she’d acquiesced to his pleas. “My legs are too skinny, aren’t they?”
Lauren sniffed. “Mine should look that good.”
Dante hugged her. “Nothing wrong with you.”
The song receded.
Van Gogh spoke on screen. “Clover Cuffs. For adults only…and those who dare to pursue pleasure.”
