Letter to the Artist Ch. 02

"Oh god Jerzy!" she began moaning loudly as she held onto his shoulders.

He was ready to explode, but he wanted her to join him so he changed the angle of his thrusting so that he could grind into her clit.

"Jerzy!" she moaned. "Oh god!" she moaned louder feeling his length torturing her clit. "Jerzy, Jerzy, JERZY!" she screamed his name and shattered into a blissful orgasm.

His name on her lips and her quivering pussy milking his hard length was enough to unman him. He exploded, rope after rope after rope of his cum, spurting deep inside her, coating her still contracting pussy. He gave her a long passionate kiss; pouring all of himself in that kiss and resting his forehead against hers. He saw confusion in her eyes and only smiled affectionately at her. He wanted to let her know that she had nothing to worry about.

He then rolled them over and draped her body against his. Her head rested on his chest and all he could do was kiss the top of her head.

"Go to sleep," he said soothingly as he wrapped her in his arms. He watched the light of the rising sun caress the skin of his writer and he could not think of a more beautiful beginning than this moment.

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Tears were streaming down her face as she drove down the 110 in the early morning light. She left Jerzy's sleeping form less than half an hour ago and it broke her heart to do so. He seemed so happy. So content.

What transpired between them was the most beautiful thing she had ever experienced. Everything felt so right; the way he kissed and looked at her and the way he held her in his arms. Nothing ever felt so right just being in his arms. She felt loved.

But she hardened her heart and denied herself Jerzy. He would find someone better, someone honest, someone who didn't live a lie. Soon she was pulling her silver Audi R8 into the massive driveway of the isolated family estate in Palos Verdes.

It had been eight years since she had last stepped foot in this place. Eight years since she had last seen her father. All those years came rushing to her, making her suddenly feel homesick. She had no right to feel that way since she damned her roots twelve years ago. She suppressed the tears that were threatening to spill out of her eyes.

She looked up at the front door to see her father standing there watching her. He seemed so happy seeing her, despite the distance she had kept from him. She stood rooted in the middle of their driveway and just looked at her father.

Suddenly she was running to him like a lost child finally finding a parent. She hugged him tightly and he embraced her wholly. No words were said and no tears were shed. There was only silence between a reunited father and daughter.

Philippe Carlson held his daughter tightly. He knew she had been crying, but he dared not speak of it. There was too much pride in her to show that kind of weakness. He led her inside their massive and spacious house.

"I only wanted the best for you," he said solemnly. It was his apology, though none needed to be given.

She stared at her dad and saw the love that he had for her. She had been so stubborn in her desire to make it on her own that she had never acknowledged his love for her.

"Père," she began hesitantly with a French accent. She had not called him that since her childhood. "Can you make me hot cocoa... like you used to?" Philippe gave his daughter a loving smile and ushered her to the large and modern kitchen.

Jac watched her father work the high tech coffee machine as she settled on a stool by the breakfast bar with a granite countertop. They settled into a nice and easy conversation, as she sipped her drink, about what they had been up to lately. They talked mostly about new designs, architecture, people, articles and everything in between as if they had not had a twelve year void between them.

"Père," she began hesitantly again. "What was Antoinette like?"

Philippe took a long pause at the question, thinking about his wife. Even as a child, Jac had never asked about the absent mother in her life.

"We were married out of convenience," he began. "I know she didn't love me like a woman should, but she was a faithful wife." Philippe continued the story of the late Antoinette Carlson and their short lived nine month relationship. "We tried, looking and seeking for something in one another. We cared deeply for each other, but we just never found it," Philippe paused thinking of the beautiful and faithful woman he was once married to. "Antoinette was not a hard woman to love. I think we would have grown to love each other if we had been given the chance."

She felt a heartache for her father and for her mother. To be bound to one another without the passion meant for lovers was tragic to her. She knew she was bound for something like that, without Jerzy. It was what was proper for someone like her. She didn't deserve love.

"I've found it," she said quietly after a long pause.¬

Philippe knew she was referring to the note he'd scribbled in her book. He sighed and gave her a knowing look before he kissed her on her forehead. He had written it on Antoinette's death anniversary twelve years ago. He wanted her to find the love and meaning he never found with his wife. He just wanted his daughter to be happy. "You should rest, Jac. You look tired."

"Père, thank you for letting me be."

Philippe smiled quietly at his daughter. He remembered the day she turned cold. It was the look in her eye that told him that she had made up her mind. "You would have only resented me if I tried." It pained him to be away from his daughter. But he knew, then, that only time would bring her back to him.

She smiled sadly at her dad before she could retire to her old room. She knew what kind of rest he was talking about. She was most definitely tired. She was tired of living a lie. But she had been living it for so long that she was afraid to stop.

Sleep would not come to her as she lay silently in her bed. All she could feel was Jerzy. His mouth, his touch, his body, his love. She would not cry this time. Instead she got up and began to write her assignment. There was not censure this time. There was only her heart.

Compromise. That is a word nonexistent in the vocabulary of Jerzy Gorszewski...

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Jerzy stormed inside the Sartorial Press building demanding to see Jac Carlson. He was angry at her. More so hurt because she had left him. He remembered the empty and cold feeling of not finding her delectable body next to him. He didn't care about the security personnel now surrounding him in the Sartorial Press lobby. He wanted Jac Carlson and he wanted her now.

"Mr. Gorszewski?"

Jerzy heard a tiny voice, almost afraid, from behind him. The anger in his eyes did not recede at seeing a young woman in her early twenties.

"Yes," he grunted out.

"The editor in chief sent me to get you. If you would, please follow me."

The elevator ride was a quiet one and he was eventually led inside the EIC's office. Behind a desk sat a handsome woman in her late 40's dressed in expensive and fashionable clothing.

"George, right?" she began. "Greta Vanderwoods. I'm Jac's editor. Please have a seat."

"I prefer to stand. Where's Jac?"

"She sent me her resignation letter this morning."

Jerzy began to head for the door. "I think you should read this before you leave," she said, holding up three pieces of paper to him. He reached for the papers in her hands and examined them.

"She submitted it via email just this morning."

Jerzy forgot about the woman before him and was suddenly lost in Jac's writing. He could never be angry with her. How could he when she professed her love and devotion to him and his work for the whole world to read. She was so honest and vulnerable and brave at the same time. Not once did the word love appear in her article, but it didn't need to be. The whole article was enough to spell out love. More than she could ever know.

"Where is she?"

"I'm afraid that I can't answer. I simply don't know."

Jerzy stood silently in Greta's office thinking. He would find his woman if it was the last thing he did. He mentally went through their brief conversations yesterday. ...we would go down to my beach... He heard her voice in his head.

"Do you know anything about a beach that she owns?"

"Yeah. The Carlson's own a whole stretch of private beach property in Palos Verdes. Why?"

Jerzy could only grin at the information. Of course she would go home. He bolted out of Greta's office without a word. He was determined to have his woman.

"You're welcome!" she yelled, amused at the big man's reaction. She then pressed the send button of her email containing Jac's article. It was to William Hartford of The New Yorker.

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It was four in the afternoon when Philip Carlson heard the call from the security of the main gates.

"Mr. Carlson, there is a... George Gorchevsky here to see you. He says he has no appointment."

"Let him in Frank."

He surmised that this was the man who was the cause of his daughter's torment. He would meet this man and judge for himself if this George Gorchevsky was worthy of his daughter's love.

Philip had seen many men visit his estate and walk the same path as the man that was making his way up the driveway. Many had the same look on their faces. They were filled with apprehension and doubt. This man, however, was full of quiet confidence and determination. Philip was a tall man, standing at 6 foot 1, but even he was no match for the man that towered before him.

"Philip Carlson," Jerzy began. There was no hesitation or doubt in his voice. "I'm here to take your daughter."

Philip had seen many things, but boldness in his presence was a rare occurrence. He looked up at the man before him, summing him up, for he was a great judge of character. He only saw proud honesty in the man. Unyielding of the truth he held in his mind.

"And what have you to give my daughter? My daughter who has everything."

"The truth," Jerzy said simply.

"And what might that be?"

"That life is not worth living if it is lived in a lie. That denial of the truth is denial of happiness. That denial of happiness is denial of love. And denial of love is denial of life." Jerzy stared at the man intently. "I cannot let her live a life of denial because then I would be denying myself of living."

Philip could only stare at the man before him. He knew in that moment that this man was the only one for his daughter. He then extended his hand to the man that was to become his son-in-law. "It's a pleasure to meet you son." Jerzy took Philip's hand in his. "She's out back down at the beach." Philip began to head towards the garage. "Tell her I'll be back by tomorrow." He gave a knowing grin to Jerzy before disappearing into the garage.

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This was her sanctuary, Jerzy thought as he settled himself on the far corner of her porch that surrounded her beach house. It was a small, but modern one. He liked the harsh angles and simplicity of structure. Her beach was tucked away in a cove and it was most definitely secluded. Its only access was through the wooden cliff side staircase that started back atop the cliff of the Carlson estate.

He noticed she had set up a makeshift pit ready to be lit as a bonfire later in the evening. Even her towel was set up just a little below the fire pit. Out in the ocean he saw her drifting off in the distance atop her surfboard.

Jac exhausted herself with a day of surfing. She thought being out in the water again would ease her mind of Jerzy. She lay on her board past where the waves broke and tried to feel the lulling calm of the ocean. But it only made her feel empty and lonely. She felt like she was under the stars again, feeling tiny and insignificant in this vast ocean. Her arm reached for an invisible hand. His hand.

She groaned and splashed her hands against the water. Stop being so stupid! This is your fault. Plus he's probably on his way to Krakow by now. She would not be defeated by her feelings. I'm Jac Carlson. I have no feelings. She began to paddle back to where the waves broke when she saw the sun beginning to set below the horizon. She would catch one last wave before calling it a day.

Jerzy marveled at her agility as she suddenly paddled towards the shore and popped herself up on her board. She mastered the wild and crashing waves easily under her feet. She commanded them to shore. And just as easily, as she rode the violent waves, she was on her feet walking on the shore with her board in tow.

Jerzy watched her glistening body under the setting sun. Her matching pair of green bikinis left little to the imagination. She was glorious with rivulets of water streaming down her body. She was reflecting the light from the sun and it seemed to him that she was the sunset itself. He noticed that she was shivering though and her nipples were pebbled through her bikini top. Oh how he wanted to warm her with his tongue.

Jac threw down her board and headed toward the fire pit. She didn't care how cold she felt. She welcomed the numbness it brought and tasked herself with lighting a fire. She needed a task to fill her senses at the moment.

"You're going to catch a cold."

She stopped dead cold in her tracks. Had she gone mad imagining his voice? His distinctly European and manly voice. The very voice that could soothe and light a fire inside of her at the same time. She was so immersed in lighting a fire that she missed his arms around her and his solid chest on her back. She felt his warm and large hands on her flat stomach and immediately she relaxed.

She inhaled his scent and melted into his embrace. Now this feels right, she thought as she reveled in his embrace. No. Suddenly she spun around and out of his embrace. She stepped back a bit.

"What are you doing here?" She said as she looked up into his eyes. "The show. Your show. You're missing it."

Jerzy only grinned at her and captured her in his arms. "I don't care about it." He would not let her go this time.

"You can't!" she said leaning away from him, but his grip did not allow much distance.

"Why not?"

Jac stopped fighting and she paused in silence. She thought about the article that she submitted to Greta. She had let him go with that article. She never wanted to share him with anyone, but she realized that she loved him too much to keep him for herself. "I... I let you go," she said, averting her eyes.

He moved his arms and pulled her face to his until his forehead rested on hers. He locked his gaze on her for what seemed like an eternity, "I know. I read it." He then captured her mouth to his and kissed her passionately.

Jac lost her train of thought when his lips met hers. She forgot the cold wind on her back and the drying ocean water on her skin. There was only Jerzy. No.

"Jerzy... I can't," she said weakly breaking their kiss.

"Yes," he said as he kissed her again.

She was panting now and she broke their kiss once more. "Jerzy... I... I don't deserve you."

"Isn't that for me to decide?" he said, before trailing kisses on her neck.

"You deserve better."

He stopped and pulled her face to his and stared at her intently. "You of all people should know that I don't compromise," he began. "Jac, I love you. It's not the kind of love so common where men profess one is worth more than their life. That's irrational love. The love I have for you is so much more. It is life itself. I will not be denied my life, Jac. You are my mine. You are my life. And that is why I love you."

Jac only saw love and severe honesty in his eyes. How could she ever deny him this? How could she deny herself this? The most basic human need. She could not stop the tears that had started running down her face.

"Oh Jerzy," she said as she held onto his face. "I'm so afraid."

He began wiping the tears from her face with his thumbs and gave her a reassuring smile.

It was she who kissed him this time. She poured all her feelings and emotions into that one kiss, letting him know that she was ready for anything. For love, for heartache, for anything. Anything that would allow her to be with him.

Jerzy lifted her into his arms and she instinctively wrapped her legs around him. He fumbled in the sand and was barely making his way to the porch of the beach house when he heard her demands.

"Jerzy, I need you now!" she said kissing him hungrily. "Now sit down on the porch. I want to do this my way this time." Her eagerness only fueled his lust.

She straddled his lap once again, as he sat on the low lying open porch of the tiny beach house. It was she who unbuckled him this time, releasing him from the confines of his pants.

His beautiful cock stood proudly erect between them. If she had not had sex with him before, she doubted that he would ever fit inside her. But she knew he fit her like a glove, every thick perfect inch of him.

He unstrung her bikini and they both groaned in pleasure when her sopping wet slit met his hard and pulsing length. Jac got up on her knees and took his length into her hand and guided his head to her opening. She stared straight into his eyes, into his soul and lowered herself onto him in a slow and torturous pace.

"I love you," she said looking straight into his eyes as she felt his hard length sliding inside her. She heard herself say those three words. "I love you," she said again as he was half way inside her walls. It was like learning the most beautiful language and being able to speak it. "Oh god! I love you!" she yelled breathlessly as she impaled herself fully, bottoming out, onto his cock.

That was the last of his resolve. He grabbed her wonderful ass and began thrusting up powerfully.

"Oh god Jerzy! I love you!"

She kept repeating those words as she slammed herself down on his cock. With every downward stroke, she would grind her clit on him and soon she was on the cusps of a mind shattering orgasm.

Jerzy felt the tightening of her inner walls and was thankful because any minute he would spill himself completely inside her. He held onto her tightly and began violently thrusting up into her, meeting her equally powerful strokes.

"I love you! Oh god! JERZY!" Jac screamed and held onto him for dear life as she reached her peak. Hearing her scream his name as she wantonly fucked him was the end of him. He grunted his release and came deeply inside her and shot his seed into her womb. She collapsed in his arms and rested her head against his shoulder.

Jerzy held her in his arms and ran a hand up and down her back to soothe his panting beauty. She then looked up into the bright green pools of his eyes and smiled. This was a smile she was not afraid to show. She was happy for the first time and wasn't lying to herself.

"I love you," she said in a tone only meant for his ears.

Jerzy could only smile at her. He had never been so happy until this moment. He had the woman that he loved. "I know," he said with a wicked grin and placed a kiss on her lips.

He stood up, with his woman still in his arms, still deeply imbedded inside her. Jerzy entered the beach house and headed for the open air shower area just past the bed room. He allowed the water to run hot before stepping into it, with Jac still in his hands. He let the hot water run down her back and soothe any present tension in her muscles.

"Hmm," Jac moaned half dazed. "This feels so good," she said luxuriating in the water and the feel of his cock still inside her.