Muse

Colors splashed across the canvas magically. The paintbrush strode across the vast expanse of white, leaving trails of rainbow in it's wake.

The hand that held the artist was delicate, twisting precisely, jutting, turning the tool. That pale hand led to an arm and that arm led to a person.

I admired her. She was beautiful, elegant; she held herself (and her medium) with such grace. I was watching her paint once; we were both at a park and she caught my eyes. I was drawn to her and her artistry. I was falling in love, when I saw her again.

The mist from the fountain next to her was creating a vivid arch of rainbow just above her black hair. She was heavenly and I honestly believed, in that moment, that I wanted to spend my life with her.

I was watching her now, and, at this point, I was becoming aware of my obsession with her. I was so obviously aware then, because I was actually looking for her, instead of just hoping she'd come.

She was painting trees, beautiful trees. Black branches, green leaves, and delicate, pink flowers all over the page. God, she was a genius, her art was genius.

I watched from a bench not ten feet from her.

A cold shudder burst through me, the city got colder at night. I fiddled with my jacket, pulling it tighter around me, before pulling a cigarette carton from my pocket. I lit it with a match, the tiny fire lighting my little area before flitting out. I saw her head look toward me and was struck with an emotion I'd come to know as mortification.

I felt fire as hot as my cigarette erupt in my cheeks and I turned away.

Her green eyes were on me for only a moment but I still felt a shot of love-stricken adrenaline course through my veins. Her eyes were as beautiful as her hands and just as languid.

She turned back to her work, dutiful. The picture grew mountains and lakes, a sky emerged above it all.

There was a pause as she started placing her equipment into bags, some small, some large. She pulled a double-sided pin from one of the bags and placed a second canvas over the masterpiece, as to not damage it.

She started to walk to her car. She paused. She turned. What's she doing?

She stood before me, the goddess was facing me completely. I was in awe.

"Would you be alright with becoming my muse? Or model for me, anything really... You're very beautiful and I'd most appreciate drawing you at least once."

This was the first time I'd heard her speak. Her voice was water to a man in the desert. It was astounding, what it did to my heart.

I was so preoccupied in my own thoughts I hadn't even realized that there was a silence between us.

Words fell from my mouth like vomit.

"I'd love to! Most definitely!! When would you like to have me?" Oh dear, that could be easily misinterpreted. She smiled a bit before talking in her lilting tones.

"Are you available now, I've got an art show next week and I'd like to show 'you' off to everyone, if that's okay."

I mumbled unintelligibly, something like an affirmative and she understood, somehow.

"Cool, come on, my car's not far from here." She started walking away, making a come hither gesture with her hands. It took all my will power not to run to her.

~x~

I walked into her house, relishing in the smell that was her home. It smelled like her.

"Would you like anything to drink? I've got water, beer, sodas... What do you like?"

"Ah... water, please..." I sat down on a worn leather couch, it was comfortable, but it clung to the sweaty bits of my skin.

I felt the skin of it all, and waited for her to come to me, and tell me what to do.

She came over and handed me a bottle, before sitting down and fidgeting slightly.

"Ah... um, I hope this doesn't sound too weird, but... could you take off your clothes?"

I nodded before unbuttoning my shirt and slipping it down. I stopped a moment, realizing I may have been a bit too easy about this.

"How much do you need?" I said, sounding faux-reluctant, so she wouldn't suspect my obsession.

"All of it, if you're not too modest." I slipped the rest of my clothes in a hurry, before moving to my underwear. I felt my face flush as I undid the ends and pulled the straps from my shoulders.

"Wow." I heard the woman breathe from behind me. She snapped from a trance and I blushed. "Sorry, I meant to say that you're extremely beautiful...!"

I pulled my legs from the holes in my underwear. I stood still, completely exposed to the woman I'd been stalking for a full three months. Oh.

I just realized. We didn't know each others names. I opened my mouth to ask, before shutting it, there are better times to ask.

"What position do you want me in?"

She tapped a pencil against her chin, thinking.

"Sprawl yourself out," she stood from the couch. "along the sofa, please." I sat back down, laying my body across the expanse. The longer the pause went on, the more flustered I became. I spread my legs further, in an attempt to become more appealing and beautiful, hoping to achieve the image that she wanted.

She pushed the eraser of her pencil against the knee that was upright, pushing my legs even further apart. She continued to do this with the rest of my body, placing me in a position that would be less shameful if I were fully clothed.

She stood back and snatched a small blanket from the arm of the couch before tossing it over me.

"Okay..." she muttered before sitting across from me and beginning to draw.

It had been twenty minutes before I asked what her name was.

"Andrea." she said. "What about you?"

"Bella." She smirked and muttered something about that being obvious.

"'Beauty.'" She whispered and I felt my body get warm suddenly.

I sat in the position she placed me, waiting for her to touch me again, even if she had not the same intentions as I did.

"How far along are you?" I asked.

"I'm doing shading now. Nearly done." I sighed. Every time her eyes came over and glanced at me, at my nakedness, I felt my body flush. I wanted her to touch me so bad. I wanted to feel her whisper 'beauty' to me.

"What?" I heard her say. She looked at me, seemingly-incredulous. Her mouth was open in surprise and her cheeks flushed a pale shade of pink.

What? Did I say that out loud?

"Yes... you did?"

Shit. She knows. Well, maybe she doesn't, but even if she doesn't. She might suspect that I... that I...

"Ah, well, I didn't mean to- um, I think I'll go on ahead-" I sat up on the couch abruptly, pushing my clothes into a pile and beginning to take off with it. She followed me to the door, speaking, but I wasn't listening to a word. I was caught up in my thoughts and shame.

I felt her palms on the back of my hand.

"Stop." I turned to her cautiously. Dark eyebrows were curved into subtle "u"s and red lips pursed in worrisome perfection.

I nearly melted, despite the shitty circumstance. Her mouth began to move in beautiful ways.

"Sorry." Sorry? My turn to be worried.

"What? Sorry for what? I'm the one who's making this horrible awkward- I mean-" She pressed one of her palms against my mouth.

"Sorry... I kinda knew you'd been watching me paint. Not just today- but all the other times. I- liked it... when you were watching me..." She looked up at me, biting her lip, before looking back down in what I thought was shame... Jesus. I pushed dirty thoughts away.

"You knew?" The more I thought about it, the less sense it made. Most people are creeped the hell out of when someone's stalking them. Why- isn't she creeped out?

"Ye- yeah..." What does that even mean, though? Does she like me? Does she not? Should I even ask? I mean, I'm not the kind who looks a gift-horse in the mouth, but why I am I still in this house?

She continued talking. "Um... I've been- watching you for about... five months." What? "Trying to meet with you in miscellaneous places... Parks, malls, anywhere I could see you, and a little while ago... I noticed I had attracted your attention- finally- I'd been waiting, and waiting for me to catch your eye and- I finally- finally got up the courage to ask for you to be my muse and" She breathed deeply, to continue.

"Ididn'tactuallyhaveaninterestinyoubeing mymusebutinsteadIwouldliketobeina relationshipwithyou!!" She said each word just after the other and I almost didn't know what she said.

So... she does like me?

"I don't- know if this is lust or I just have a childish interest in you, but I do know that I want to touch you. I want to be with you." She spat the last word out and I suddenly became aware of my lack of clothes. I pressed my clothes to my chest.

She touched the back of my hand and looked up at me, expectantly, as if she was saying "May I?". I exhaled, hoping she'd take it as an affirmative.

She pushed my clothes aside, roaming over my stomach and chest with her hands. She kneaded into my breasts delicately, lightly pinching a nub. I sucked in a quick breathe, catching her eyes again. She drifted down to my stomach, wrapping her arms around my midsection, bringing me to her. She started pedaling back onto the couch I was previously draped over.

She sat down, bringing me with her, before pulling my lips to hers.

Well, this went better than expected.