Michael walked over to the kitchen and retrieved two water bottles for him and his muse. He instructed Annabelle to lie on her back and look up at the ceiling. He told her it was okay if she fell asleep because it was going to be awhile and she might get bored. He then sat back at the canvas and began to draw. There was complete silence in the loft with the occasional interruption of Michael’s soft cursing whenever he made a mistake.
After two hours, he called for a break. He went downstairs to gather lunch as Annabelle waited upstairs. Curiosity got the best of her and she was eager to see exactly what he drew of her. She sneaked over to the canvas and took a peek. She was absolutely astonished. What would take an artist days and weeks to perfect, Michael did it in a matter of hours. He drew Annabelle to a tee, from her soft brown curls to her full breasts. Maybe it was too perfect. He also included her cottage-cheese thighs.
Michael returned to see Annabelle spying on his art. “It’s not done yet,” his quiet voice booming in the large loft.
“What do you mean? It’s perfect!” she exclaimed.
Michael put down the food and walked over to Annabelle. “I just have to smooth out some edges here and there and some over here.” His fingers traced the outline of the drawing and imagined it was her body. He had to simmer his erection. “And then I’ll be done.”
The Painter is a New Adult erotica available on Amazon, Smashwords, Barnes & Noble, and All Romance.