Annabelle and Bethany arrived at Michael’s studio not knowing what to expect. Bethany arrived with cell phone fully charged and ready to go; she was going to snap up as many pictures of Michael for her blog. Annabelle, on the other hand, was a bit more nervous. Getting naked so a guy could use her as his muse sounded great in theory but the action was full of self-doubt. “I’m not sure about this,” Annabelle admitted.
“Well then, let’s go home,” Bethany began to turn around.
“No, wait!” Annabelle was disappointed on how quick her best friend agreed to her idea without even a discussion. “You’re not going to talk me out of this?”
“Talk you out of what?” Bethany asked. “You said you weren’t sure and that tells me you don’t want to do this. Let’s stop wasting time and get the hell out of here.”
“No, I want to do this,” Annabelle was firm, “I just…I’m getting naked.”
“I don’t have to be there if you don’t want me to be,” Bethany consoled her best friend. “It’s not like I’m seeing something new for the first time.”
“Fuck you,” Annabelle smiled.
“Eh, you’re not my type,” Bethany grinned. “Listen, let’s go up to his studio and I’ll see if everything looks legit. If it does, I’ll be at the bookstore around the corner from here. I won’t be too far away.”
“I like that,” Annabelle nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”
The women arrived at Michael’s building and went up to his studio on the seventh floor. His door was already opened. The women briefly looked at each other and went inside. While Bethany checked for hidden doors and compartments, Annabelle looked around at the downtown loft and was pleasantly surprised.
It was extravagantly simple, a term her parents used to call her. It had large windows that led outside to the busy downtown streets. In one corner was a bedroom of sorts, only distinguished by a sheer white canopy surrounding a bed. Close to the bedroom was a sizeable bathroom.
She continued to walk through the loft, almost getting lost in it. She suddenly stopped when she saw the back of Michael’s head. He was sitting on a stool and appeared to be doodling on a canvas. He was singing softly to a song that Annabelle heard before but never knew who sung it.
“The Doobie Brothers,” he answered as if he was reading her thoughts, “What a Fool Believes.”
Annabelle shook her head. “What?”
“The song is by The Doobie Brothers,” he finally turned around and greeted her with a smile, “do you like their music?”
Truth to be told, Annabelle didn’t know who in the hell they were but didn’t want to upset Michael by starting off the session on the wrong foot. But her music history was caught off-guard by Michael’s face. The pictures didn’t do him justice. He was gorgeous. He licked his full lips slowly, moistening them just a little.
He was a tall, muscular man with short brown hair and warm blue eyes. His tawny skin was soft and smooth, as if it was always buttered with lotion. There was a softness to him that didn’t come from other men Annabelle had been around. He was, what she would later describe to her friends, a quiet sexy. He knew he had it going on and left it at that. He didn’t need to brag to the world about it. “Um, sure.”
Michael knew she was being polite but didn’t want to embarrass the poor girl any further. “You must be my newest muse,” He smiled at the Black beauty. “I’m Michael Taylor.”
“I’m Annabelle Johnson. And over there, checking for trap doors and booby traps is my friend, Bethany.” She pointed to the blonde. “She just wanted to see if you’re legit. Don’t mind her.”
“Not at all,” Michael waved at her. “So, I should go over some basics with you. Normally I take pictures of the models before we start so I have something to work with later after you leave. I’m not going to post them online or show them to my friends; you get all the negatives and originals when I’m done. You can take as many breaks as you like, just tell me when.” His voice was deep and inviting. “Is there anything else you want to know?”
Annabelle was already mesmerized by Michael. He wore a white tee that outlined his body and showed off his muscular build. He was fucking hot and she felt tingly between her thighs. “Nope, that’s it.”
Bethany appeared beside Michael. “He’s good and legit,” she snapped a picture of him. “It’s for my blog.” She turned to her friend. “Did you still want me to stay, Belle?”
“No, I’m good.” Annabelle softly nodded. She was more than good but what she was really feeling was inappropriate to say. “You can leave now. I’ll meet you in a couple of hours.”
“Okay, see you later.” Bethany then left.
Michael turned back to Annabelle. He smiled and pointed to the couch that sat behind his easel. “Please?”
Annabelle walked over to the sofa and shed her clothing. She wore just a basic red dress, something easy and simple to get out of. She then sat on the sofa and waited for Michael’s direction. Getting naked in front of a complete stranger wasn’t as bad as she thought it was. Maybe it was the thought of never seeing him again that made it easier.
The moment Annabelle took off her dress, Michael was already in lust with her, and he felt his cock jump in anticipation. She had an athletic figure but curvy. She had dark skin – not quite mocha but not quite café au lait. It was a nice and delectable brown. Her breasts were full and soft with dark cherry nipples. Her taut stomach had a simple belly ring and her legs were toned like a dancer’s that seemed to go on for miles. That’s exactly what she was: a long, chocolate mile.
Focus, you idiot, he warned himself, she’s your muse, not a new fuck toy for your dick.
The Painter is available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Smashwords, and All Romance. It is a standalone erotic short.