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I started my short story about the woman who falls in love with a model because of his blog. The names may change later and it has no title, but I thought I’d post the first few rough paragraphs. Hopefully, this won’t end the way all my stuff ends…sitting in limbo unfinished because I’m tired of it. LOL Feel free to rip me to shreds all you writers and readers of fiction. If I can make this better through your nagging efforts, I will. So here’s what Andrei Andrei’s blog sparked in me:

The faces all started to look the same after awhile. All of them were beautiful, but none of them were a stand out. McKenna clicked on the ‘next page’ arrow and watched the next set of beautiful faces load on her monitor. She needed a muse in order to begin work on her book. She glanced at her outline again. Andre, the hero of her story, was dark haired, with dark eyes and sculptured cheekbones. McKenna needed a real face to inspire her, so she was clicking through pages of handsome men at an international modeling agency’s website. Thus far, none of the men had eyes that drew her. The eyes had to be just right. She wanted to look in them and imagine them filled with desire. The face itself wasn’t all that important. Round, angular, square jawed…

Whatever, McKenna thought with a sigh as she clicked to the next page. Some of the men on the page weren’t that attractive to her. None had eyes that drew her. She got to the last page without seeing a single man who was right for her character. She eyed the set of links on the home page of the agency and, with a sense of resignation, she clicked to the next agency’s website.

The first few pages of photos were exactly like the countless pages she’d already viewed. The men were handsome, beautiful really, but their smiles were posed and never reached their eyes. The eyes themselves were flat and uninspiring.

Where was the passion, the fire? she thought with a frown. The men were all of Italian heritage, yet not one looked like he had it in him to rip a woman’s clothes off.

Disappointment began to set in, and McKenna clicked through the pages more quickly, barely glancing at the models now. She decided they must all be gay. They had to be. They were so cookie cutter with their beautiful faces and cool demeanor. Thoughts of a grilled cheese sandwich were becoming more intriguing than all the models put together, when a picture in the center of her monitor caught her wandering attention.

The photo didn’t seem as posed as the others. The man in the photo was dressed in a leather jacket and a rolled neck sweater. He was swinging a fine leather suitcase out of the trunk of a shining Mercedes Benz. His face was angular, high cheekbones, defined jaw, stubble on the chin hiding a dimple. He was not much different than the hundreds of men she’d seen already, except for his eyes.

They were crinkled a little at the corners, as if he was looking into the sun, and the smile on his lips found an echo in those dark depths. As McKenna looked more closely at the photo, she could swear she saw little flames in those eyes. Even better than that, the expression in the brown irises made her melt like ice in the sun. Passion radiated from his eyes and face, the desire almost tangible.

McKenna’s breath caught in her throat. Those eyes speared her and turned her into mush. She instantly wished she was the woman he was looking at. Her bottom lip snagged between her teeth as she looked at the name beneath the photo. Raphael Antonelli. Very Italian. Her breath came rushing out as she realized his name was a link. He had a website.

Feeling as if she was standing on the edge of a cliff, McKenna clicked the link. Techno music spilled from her speakers as photo after photo of Raphael Antonelli filled her computer screen. With each photo that flashed by, she became more convinced that she’d found her Muse. When she clicked on the button labeled ‘Contact’, she found an email form and yet another link. Raphael Antonelli had a blog.