Big Girls Don’t Cry Part Twenty-Two

“My Body is Your Canvas”

As I knock on the studio door and wait for Patrick to answer I have to pinch myself.  I can’t believe I am here! I am excited for whatever his creative mind has in store for me. I’m not going to lie I was thrilled when he asked me at the bar the other night if I would pose for him. Of course my mind went straight for the naughty when he said he wanted to explore me but then he quickly corrected himself when we all looked at him and said, “Ladies please get your minds out of the gutter, this is all about art. She has these amazing lines that I must capture.”

“Annie. Hello! So glad you could make it.” Patrick is wearing faded blue jeans and a thin white t-shirt splattered with paint. He is not wearing his beanie today so his reddish brown hair is loose and wild and all I can think about is running my fingers through it. Whoa girl, slow down. “Hi Patrick. I’m excited to help you out.” As we walk into the dimly lit studio I look around and see that he has a couple of stations set up; a huge canvas on an easel sits in one corner against a white back drop and a black back drop takes up space in another corner with a tripod and camera. A single stool sits in the middle of the floor surrounded by black. “I am very happy you agreed to be my subject today. My students really enjoyed having you in class the other night as did I.” Now I am blushing and smile at him.

He looks at me with those brown eyes and I feel warmth in my belly and then my awkward side comes out and I start babbling. “I wasn’t sure what to wear so I just wore something that I could slip out of easily.” He laughs and I realize what I am saying. “No, wait. That came out wrong. I meant I wanted to give you easy access. Oh God that is worse. I am going to shut up now.” I cover my face with my hands and start to giggle. “Are you nervous?” I peek through my fingers and nod my head. “It’s ok. I will guide you and tell you exactly what I want you to do. You actually wore the right clothes for this project.” He looks over my slightly off the shoulder grey shirt and black leggings and nods approval. “Yes perfect. You don’t mind if you get paint on these do you?”

“Not at all. I figured that I might get dirty so I wore my ‘I don’t care about getting messy’ clothes.” He gives me this sly smile. Damn it I did it again. “Why don’t we start with some photographs to help you relax. You can put your stuff down on the table over there and then come sit down on the stool.” He walks away and I of course start over thinking about what I said. I must sound like an idiot.  Maria told me that he has never invited any of the models back to his studio before so that must mean something but what? I don’t know why I am so nervous. I admit it has been a while since I have dated but this isn’t a date. Is it? Sara would tell me to snap out of it and stop being so silly.

“Annie are you ready?” I shake myself out of my foolish thoughts and walk over to the stool. He directs me to sit down and turns my stool more to one side. “May I touch you so that I can place you exactly where I need you to be?” I say yes and he starts to manipulate my body by moving my shoulders and head and then tugging my sleeve down more. “I need you to drop your head back as far as you can so that I can get your collarbone to stick up more. It may be uncomfortable but it is important to hold the pose for as long as possible.” He goes behind the camera and makes some adjustments and comes back to me. “Do you have a top on under this one? I really need to have you take it off or I have to cut it to get the frame I need.”

He is so close to me I can smell his cologne and my heart skips a beat. He smells so good! Like lemon, Cedarwood and musk all rolled into one. Kind of like Michael but I stop myself before I go down that road. “I have on a bandeau top on.” He lifts my shirt and I raise my arms to allow him to pull it over my head. My hair falls loose from its side ponytail and he simply brushes it off my shoulder. His touch gives me goose bumps. “Ok so are you ready? Remember to hold the pose for as long as you can I will let you know when to relax.”

He moves behind the camera and starts clicking away. I am leaning so far back I am afraid I may fall off the stool at any moment. I feel my neck getting stiff but do my best to stay still. “Ok relax for a moment.” I pull myself forward and shake my head to loosen up. “So what exactly are you trying to capture?” He pops his head out from behind the camera. “I will show you once I take a few more shots. Are you ready?” I assume the same position and again he starts clicking away. I hear movement and suddenly feel him very close to me. “Almost done just a few more shots you are doing great.” The clicking of the camera is comforting to me. Like an eye that blinks I image the lens is taking in everything that our eyes won’t see. “And. Done. You can sit up now.” Again I stretch my neck and shake my head. “Come here and tell me what you think.”

I walk over and he has the images up on a computer screen. All I see is what looks like a sand dune captured in black and white. It takes me a few seconds to realize that what I am looking at is my collarbone and shoulder. I have no idea what he did but it is beautiful. “That’s incredible! How did you do that?” He smiles again and says “it was all you all I did was capture it. You are my muse it seems. If you are up to it I would like to sketch you next, maybe even paint you.” I smile at him and he takes me by the hand and leads me to the canvas. He positions me in front of the white back drop and goes and stands in front of the canvas. I am standing barefoot in my top and black leggings staring back at him as his eyes scan me from head to toe. It doesn’t feel right to have clothes on after posing nude for his class the other night so I pull the bandeau top over my head and let it drop to the floor. He looks up at me. I slowly push my leggings down and step out of them as well. I am now naked with my hands at my sides shaking with anticipation and excitement. I give myself a mental pat on the back for shaving before I came over and stifle a giggle.

I watch as his hands move back and forth across the canvas as he looks from me to the canvas and back to me again. Suddenly he drops his pencil and comes up to me. “I need to paint you. It is the only way I can get it right.” I kind of thought that was what he was going to do and the look of confusion on my face makes him laugh. “Sorry what I mean is I want to paint YOU. Here like this.” He has a squeeze bottle of paint and grabs my hand pulling me closer to him. I am looking into his eyes and feel the cool, wet slickness of the paint and it slides over my chest. I look down and I am covered in blue paint and he is slowly spreading it with his soft hands, his thumbs brush against my nipples and I moan. He steps back slightly and continues to move the paint over my body; his hands the brush.

My breathing comes faster as he moves his hands down my legs and then back up between them stopping just short of my pubic hair and moving his hands around to my backside and cupping my ass. The pressure of his hands is constant as he moves again over my nipples and my body responds by arching against his fingers. He moves closer and gently kisses me letting his tongue flick across my lips. I wrap my arms around him and pull his shirt up and over his head. The paint is now covering both of us as we continue to kiss slowly at first and then more urgently. His hands are in my hair as he pulls me closer to him. I am pulling at his jeans pushing them down until we are skin to skin. I close my eyes and get lost in his touch and the taste of his mouth on mine. We are touching each other trying to explore but the paint works with us as well as against us. He pulls away for a moment and takes me by the hand and leads me to another room just off of the studio. At first I think he is taking me to the bedroom but then realize we are in a large bathroom with a walk in shower. “You are a naughty girl Annie. I like it. Let’s get this paint off of you so that I can truly explore you.”


2 thoughts on “Big Girls Don’t Cry Part Twenty-Two

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