Angelina jolie imagines

30. The figure

notes: Angelina is French, Your name is Arabella ( I wanted to write something else besides Y/N). You are a pottery artist. 

" Means someone is saying it. ' means someone is thinking/imagining it. 

Warning: Smut (Self-pleasure)

I had applied to the program on a whim. Sure, any sculptor would have killed for a spot at the Dilham Martin Institute. One of the oldest, best fine arts programs in the world, but I had never really given a shit about prestige. For some reason tho, prestige seemed to give a shit about me. once I won the Michigan art price suddenly there was a spotlight on me. 'What's this talented young woman going to do next'. Well, I froze, the past year I have been living at home in Maine. Floating, directionless. I didn't want to do anything, but I knew I had to do something. So, when I got accepted on full scholarship. I figured spending the summer on an island off the coast of France wasn't the worst place to figure out what the hell I was going to do next.

The school itself was over 2 centuries old and massive. The welcome packed had promised that all the studios where up to date, but as I hold my luggage to the tapestried halls, I couldn't help but feel like I slid into the past.

East wing, second floor, door on the right.

"Oh—I—"

"Uhh---Excusez-moi que 'est-ce que vous êtes en train de faire" (Excuse me, what are you doing). I should have shut the door, but I froze. She was older, striking and half naked.

"Est-ce que je vous connais?" (do I know you) She said looking over at me. "Uh do I-do I know you?"

"Oh, uh I'm sorry I'm sorry" Shit, shit, I thought closing the door. I walked over to another door, knocking on it first. I got no answer, so I gently pushed it open.

"Hello?" Again, no answer. "Oh, thank god" I closed the door and walked further in the room. As I tried to catch my breath her body etched itself in my mind. Her hands holding her silvery blond hair away from her neck. Her breast stretching the silk off her bra. Desire flashed through me.

When I got to my first class of the day, I found a space away from everyone else. I wasn't really feeling like company. But a tall man with glasses broke off from the rest of the group.

"Hmm the famous Arabella Levesc." He said like he knew me.

"Hey, do I know you?"

"We have met. Elijah is the name. congratulations by the way, the art price." He put his stuff next to me.

"Uhm—"

"Very trendy for an American award."

"How do you know about that"

"You know, words get around in the right circles" he shrugged.

"I guess so."

"It's a shame who they let in here these days, have the people here I haven't even heard of. I swear I was this close to not showing up" His ring finger and thumb very close together. his eyes squinting, before I even had the chance to speak, he continued. "I only applied because I knew Angelina Jolie was going to be teaching, well I was chatting with the head of the program, he is an old mentor of mine, and he begged me to attempt, so looks like we are doing him a favor, you and I"

"Sure?" I said softly, I wasn't here for any teacher or head of the program.

"I mean in Brooklyn I had my own studio and here we have this whole shared space, so--" When I saw who walked in the room, I almost swiveled in my seat to hide my face. It was the woman I had walked in on earlier. I hoped she wouldn't sit next to me. She started making her way to the front of the classroom. Elijah was still talking, but I was to fixated looking at her. She set her purse on the teacher's desk. "Oh fuck" I said quietly.