The Artist

September 2008

Each time she slipped out of her clothes for him, he noticed something different. This time it was the curve of her thigh, drawn for him in slow detail as she slid her jeans down, careful not to catch her panties with them. The denim reached her bare feet in a crumple of blue, and he watched the muscles flex faintly beneath her dark skin as she stepped out of them, first one foot, and then the other.

She knew he enjoyed studying her like this, and always tried to make a show out of it. He didn't need her to--he could have made do with quick sketches amid the hasty removal of each other's clothing and greedy demand for more and more skin--but she seemed to appreciate the attention in turn. Most people tended to make snap judgements, she'd told him, and decide she was hot just from one glance at her chest.

Afterwards he'd never wanted to admit that that had been his first glance, too.

Reaching behind her, she undid the clasp of her bra, slid it forward over her arms, and tossed it easily to one side. Her breasts hung full and pendulous, natural in a way he'd never felt clothing should restrict. She laughed at him whenever he tried to express that, because she was a practical sort of person. She acknowledged the daydreaming of other people, but never indulged in it herself, which was why he knew eventually he'd have to stop collecting these little details about her.

She padded the short distance across the carpet and crawled fluidly into his lap, panties the only work she'd left for him. He wondered if she'd noticed his eyes lingering, or if she'd just wanted the attention from his hands. He liked to explore everything with his eyes, and follow with touch.

Her skin beneath his fingers was as soft as it had looked, but warmer than the dim lighting implied, and her pulse had before lain hidden beneath it. His hands would lie to him, communicating a sense of ownership even as they confirmed and added to everything his eyes had established. Hers, sliding lightly over his skin at first and then pulling needily, were probably more honest.

He leaned in to find her lips, responding to her pull.

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