Wrapped in a towel, with a little excitement and a lot of hesitation brewing inside her, Miss K was standing in front of him. Trying to portray a calm demeanor, she smiled. He smiled back. His was a mischievous one. Both looked at each other in anticipation. He made a polite hand gesture and she took a deep breath and revealed herself to him. He looked at her from top to bottom. Scrutinizing every minute detail, he went around her, looking at her from all sides, admiring his muse from all possible angles, while she stood in between all of this, shivering with fear of novelty and a sensual excitement. He went a full circle around her, stopped in front of her and held her. Their eyes met as he gently pushed her over the couch.
The cold velvet of the couch kissed the curve of her behind, the sudden sensation made her clasp his arms tight. His smile grew wider and her cheeks turned scarlet. He leaned in and whispered, “relax, my dear… Now I will make you sit in a comfortable posture, let loose”.
He put a cushion behind her back and made her recline along the armrest of the couch. Gripping her left thigh from below, the tip of his fingers delving into the soft supple skin of her inner thigh. The warm touch of his palm made her miss a heartbeat. He positioned her leg bent with knee being the rest for her left hand. And made her hold a red rose.
Now he picked the right leg and positioned it straight on the couch. His eyes fell on her right hand, which was delicately covering her modesty. He held it and lifted it, and saw some resistance from Miss K as her hand grew stiff. He bent down and kissed her hand, she felt the warm pucker of his lips and melted inside, breathing heavy, feeling urges she never felt for anyone, not like this.
Now he gently felt the curves of her waist and tilted her torso towards left, so he can get a better angle of her, whole of her. She liked the way his touch made her feel. No man every got close to her like this. She knew the reason for charming yet sadistic smile on his face – he was enjoying her apparent discomfort. And he knew that Miss K was a little turned on. Perky pink nipples don’t lie.
Miss K didn’t mind his proximity to her. His heavy breath landing on her firm, symmetric and goddess like bosom made her bite her lips a bit too often. Being a muse and that too in such an intimate surrounding is an adventure only a few get to live.
She gazed at his face while he covered her womanhood with rose petals. He was ordinary, but had a charming demeanor. It was his eyes that made him so tough to say no to. The way he looked at her as if she was not a human but some ancient Greek goddess who appeared out of nowhere. He admired her in every stare and epitomized her silhouette. She knew there was a hint of lust in this whole ‘sketching nude at my place’ proposition, but she didn’t mind giving it to the novelty of the idea.
He got up and went back to his chair. Picked his sketchbook and a pencil and started sketching. His strokes were fast yet fluent. His hands moved swiftly around her curves. He spent a lot of time detailing her eyes, her nose and her luscious lips. It was like he was making love to her image with his craft. From time to time, he measured her with one eye closed and pencil held between his eyes and her very inspiring existence. He winked. She smiled.
She was now totally comfortable in the home of stranger she met a few hours back; that too covered in nothing but rose petals. Two questions kept running on her mind – 1. How does she look right now? 2. What happens next?
He stops drawing. Gets up from his chair and walks up to her. She sits straight on the couch, only to feel a little bit of stretch in her neck and waist. But she is more excited about looking at her portrait. He hands it to her. She takes the drawing pad and glances over it.
Her face never looked so beautiful in any mirror, any photograph. Her red fuller lips looked as sensual and her curves never looked so defined. She never knew that her colourful persona could look so stunning in just black and white of charcoal and paper, that she could be muse of an artist who could do justice to her unparalleled beauty, that she could be turned on just by looking at a brazen depiction of her sensual existence. She got up. The rose petals fell on her feet. She kept the sketchbook on the couch. Moved closer to him. Looked him in the eyes and wrapped her arms around him, her bare body hugging his broad physique. Her skin steaming with passion and emotion collapsed on his tweed jacket. And her face rested on his shoulder. It was a speechless thank you.
He parted the long silent hug and held her face in his palms. Tears trickling down her cheeks. The sheer purity of expression was overwhelming. He leaned in and wiped her tears with his lips. And looked deep into her eyes. Two bodies hugged each other. Two souls craved each other. Breathing heavy with hearts too close to each other. They leaned in, their lips met, and oblivion took over. They lied down on the same couch and wrote another story of passion and inspiration, but this time, their bodies being the canvas.