This is an entry in the Nude Day Story Contest 2022. Support artists. Please vote. Thank you.
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Tomas was nervous. He had good reason to be. Though an hour had passed since his encounter, all he could think about was the rakish South American businessman who’d stepped into his Bogota art studio to commission a painting of his wife. With well-suited armed security behind him, Rafael De La Mora stood cool and confident before the anxious French artist. The older man looked around the high ceiling studio in a reclaimed warehouse lit by south facing industrial glass windows. His eyes lingered upon the large platform loft, high in a back corner, where he spied an unmade bed. He returned his wily grey eyed gaze to Tomas.
“I’ve seen your work,” remarked the De La Mora. “It’s good, real good. My wife has beautiful breasts. Make sure you do them right.”
A guard dropped a leather bag onto a nearby chair and with that, De La Mora and his security team left the artists’ studio. Tomas was accustomed to painting oil portraits of Colombia’s ruling elite, not shady businessmen with ties to politicians and cartels. De La Mora wasn’t a particularly violent man, but people who stood in the way had a tendency to disappear. Tomas considered refusing the job, but after discovering fifty bundles of American one hundred dollar bills in the bag De La Mora left behind, it was a done deal. Besides, he had no choice. He didn’t want to suffer the consequences of refusing the desire of a very dangerous man.
On the day Tomas was to meet De La Mora’s wife, he spent the morning tidying up his messy studio; one of four artists’ studios in the brick walled warehouse work/live space. He was in the midst of brewing tea when the soft sound of knuckles rapping on his metal door signaled her arrival. He walked over to the door and looked out the peep hole to see one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. She had a pretty face with high cheekbones and rich brunette hair. He unlocked the door and lugged open the door to see the perfectly proportioned woman in a coral colored summer dress standing there like a beautiful flower in a slum.
“Hello, Mr. Anjou. I’m Anacia De La Mora. I have an appointment.”
“Yes, please, come in.”
He stepped aside to let the leggy brunette into his studio. It was then that he spotted the two armed men standing beside a black Cadillac Escalade with tinted windows. They watched as their charge enter his space. He closed the door, grateful that they hadn’t followed. It’s hard to work under the gaze of menacing thugs with guns.
Anacia walked around, her sandals clapping over the studio’s concrete floor. She looked at his unfinished pencil sketches and clay models. She wandered by the counter of paint brushes soaking in jars before stopping at his altar featuring plaster a Virgin Mary statue amongst puddles of white wax. Then she looked up at the slanted ceiling of tempered warehouse glass to Tomas’ bedroom loft held aloft by wires and steel beams. She looked over her shoulder to see Tomas gazing at her. With his muscular build and shorn dark hair as long as his facial scruff, he looked more like mercenary than an artist.
“If you care to have a seat,” he said, gesturing to a worn tapestry wing-back chair in the sitting area consisting of two chairs and a coffee table on a worn Persian rug.
“Thank you,” she replied, as she made her way to the sitting area where she gracefully sat.
“Can I offer you a drink? Water? Tea.”
“Tea would be very nice. Thank you.”
Tomas moved to his countertop kitchen consisting of a hot plate and sink. He carefully lifted the Moroccan silver tea set tray, with a battered tea pot and silver bottomed tea glasses he’d found in an antique store, and walked it to the sitting area where he set it down upon an old blanket chest he used as a coffee table. He poured her tea first
“I don’t have any lemon or cream but I have honey if you’d like.”
“I’ll take it black.”
She accepted it with her manicured hand and settled back into her chair, crossing her legs so elegantly one would think she was a trained princess. He poured a tea for himself before sitting in the chair across from her. He was entranced by her smoldering green eyes and the way she puckered her lips to blow over her hot beverage. They sipped their tea in an awkward silence before Tomas asked, “So, your husband wants me to paint a life size portrait of you.”
“Yes. A nude.”
Tomas nearly spit out his tea but he calmly set his tea cup upon the table.
He asked, “A nude?”
“Yes. It’s a birthday gift for my husband.”
“Well, to protect your modesty, I can take Polaroid pictures of you as reference to paint from that so you don’t have to pose nude for a number of days.”
“Polaroid picture?”
He got up to grab the old camera from a shelf and took a quick snap of her. The stiff, emulsified paper rolled out from the camera’s front and he handed it to her and said, “Polaroid. There’s only one picture with no negatives so you don’t have to worry about it ending up on the internet.”
She watched her picture emerge from murkiness absolutely fascinated by the process. She looked up at him and said, “Honestly, Mr. Anjou-”
“Please, call me Tomas.”
“Honestly, Mr. Anjou, I want to pose in person. It’ll be a good excuse to get out of the villa.”
Tomas nodded. He had very little sympathy for pretty birds trapped in golden cages of their making when they marry powerful men. But this was different. Anacia’s serenity and gentleness tugged at his heart.
He asked, “Do you know how you want to pose?”
“I think reclined, like an odalisque.”
They both sipped their tea with eyes locked upon another.
Tomas broke the gaze when he set down his glass and asked, “If you don’t mind me asking, where did you meet your husband? It’s just that you’re very poised and well-spoken.”
She chuckled. “You must’ve imagined me to be some party girl my husband picked up of the club. Or did you think I was an Instagram whore?”
“No, I-”
“My father is a lawyer for a petrol company. I was educated in private schools and even studied at the Sorbonne for a year. I can speak French if you’d like.”
“No, I like speaking in my mother’s tongue. She’s Spanish. I grew up in a bilingual household. Please continue.”
“I was a law student when Rafael saw me in a beauty pageant. My mother made me enter the stupid thing because, as she says, that’s where ‘pretty girls find a rich husbands.’ Rafael started sending me gifts and diamonds and I told him that I couldn’t accept them but he wouldn’t stop. So, I started accepting them. I don’t know. It’s sick but I have a thing for international men of mystery.”
They sipped their tea. His keen brown eyes appraised her body; slim, tanned skin with graceful limbs. De La Mora spoke the truth about her breasts. They were exquisite.
“So, when can we start?” she asked.
“I need to prime the canvas but I can start preliminary sketching next Monday at noon, if that works for you?”
“Yes.”
There was a banging at the door. Tomas knew who it was before he even reached it. He lugged open the door and found himself face to face with the suited De La Mora security guard with a dark and sullen face.
The man gruffly said, “It’s time for Mrs. De La Mora to go.”
She rose from her chair and sauntered towards the door. She stopped where Tomas stood and said, “I’m looking forward to our session.”
“Don’t forget to bring a robe and a bikini.”
She smiled. “I won’t and thank you.”
On the day of their appointment, a pale grey cloudy light filled the studio which pleased Tomas. It was the perfect light for sketching. He dragged a divan with green velvet upholstery into the light and fluffed two pillows before placing them at the head rest. His front door doorbell buzzed. He hurried to it and opened it to see Anacia standing there standing there dressed in jeans, a tight fitting white t-shirt and a designer tote bag. She entered with a smile. As she entered, he made eye contact with her security detail standing beside the Cadillac Escalade before he closed the door.
“You can change in there,” he said, gesturing towards the bathroom.
He pulled up his easel and his sketching pencils, both sharp and dull. After a few minutes, he heard the click of the bathroom door opening and turned her see Anacia step out in a plush white terry cloth robe and fuzzy pink slippers. She stopped at the divan and unbelted her robe to reveal a little black bikini before shedding the robe onto a nearby stool and kicking off her slippers. She got upon the divan and turned her backside towards him. Tomas gazed at her beautiful peach of a derriere until she looked over her shoulder.
“How about this?” she asked.
“Your husband seemed insistent about seeing your breasts.”
She flipped over and laid back, throwing her arm over her head as though she was waiting to be ravished.
Tomas stood and approached. He reached to her and asked, “If you don’t mind.”
He repositioned her arm, raising it further over her head before moving her hair over her shoulder. His fingers grazed her skin as he carefully repositioned a loosely curled lock of hair to complete his composition. He took a Polaroid picture and then another before repositioning her again by having her lie more on her back which gave her breasts better symmetry.
“Perfect,” he said, returning to his stool where placed his large sketch pad upon an easel.
Anacia coolly said, “I would like a little modesty in my private parts. Perhaps a well-placed shadow but not so much that it looks like I have a hairy bush.”
He chuckled. “Bend the knee of your top leg and bring it down. There we go, we’ve created a shadow for your pussy.”
She delighted him with her giggle.
Seduced by the sight of her, he murmured, “Arch your back. Now turn your hip towards me.”
She did as she was told. Pleased with the composition, Tomas said, “Don’t move until I say so.”
With that, he began to sketch. He quickly sketched her primary curves, adding the shadows to the womanly curves. An hour later, it was a crude but decent representation of the painting he planned on painting.
He set down his pencil and said, “Okay, you can breathe.”
She exhaled heavily and relaxed before sitting up.
“Can I see?” she asked.
She walked towards him and upon seeing it, gasped and smiled. She asked, “Can I have it?”
“Maybe afterwards. I need it for now.”
His heart quickened from the closeness of her bikini body. “Uh, you can get dressed now.”
“Yes. Of course. I’m so excited.”
When Anacia returned fully dressed from the bathroom, with her tote bag under her arm, Tomas escorted her to the door and watched as she climbed into the Escalade before being whisked away. He slammed the door and locked it before walking to his bathroom to take a long needed piss. It was there that he spotted Anacia’s scarf on the floor. He picked up the large colorful silk square scarf and held it to his nose. It smelled of an expensive white floral perfume. It smelled of her. He considered running after her car to return it but decided that, if she didn’t call about the scarf, he’d return it to her at their next session.
Later that evening, Tomas found himself wandering restlessly around his studio. He thought about going to the gym or a nightclub, but when he found himself nuzzling Anacia’s scarf to his lips for the second time that night, he knew what he needed to do. He pulled out his phone and typed out a text.
An hour later, the doorbell buzzed. As Tomas walked across the length of his studio, he hit the music app on his phone and selected a seductive playlist of slow bossa nova music to spice up the atmosphere. The sultry music flowed from hidden speakers to fill his studio lit by a few well-placed lamps. He lugged open the door to see Jocelyn in all of her glory. The young woman with long straight black hair and an hour glass figure was dressed in frayed denim shorts and a yellow off the shoulder peasant blouse. Her lips glistened from cherry lip gloss and glittery eyeshadow sparkled above her sly brown eyes.
“Hi, Tomas.”
“Hello, Jocelyn.”
Tomas watched as the street wise nineteen year old entered the studio. His eyes settling on her bubble butt cheeks jutting from her shorts. He shut the door behind her and locked a couple of locks before turning to see her patiently standing there waiting for him to pay her fee. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a fold of money. “Five hundred thousand pesos?”
“Uh-huh,” she replied with an outstretched palm.
“How many pesos is that in American money?”
“I don’t know. What, do I look like? A money exchange?”
He calculated her fee was a little over one hundred dollars but flush with cash and feeling generous, he peeled two one hundred dollar bills from the fold and handed it to her.
“Oooooh, I loooove American money. Thank you,” she said, shoving the money into her little purse before continuing on into his studio.
She turned and asked, “So, what do you want to do tonight? Sketch? Fuck?”
With the image of Anacia seared into his mind, he rasped out, “Dance while you take off your clothes.”
Tomas took a seat in a comfortable chair as Jocelyn began to dance. Her hips swayed with the seductive music as she slowly pulled up her top until her chocolate brown tipped breasts her fully exposed. She pulled the blouse over her head and tossed it aside. She continued to move to the beat. She continued her strip tease by unbuttoning her shorts before turning around. She slowly pulled down the shorts to expose her thong and beautiful behind. The shorts dropped to the ground and she stepped out of them as she continued to twist and grind in her improvised samba. Jocelyn shook her ass as though she were leading a Carnival parade. Tomas was fully hard and aching to cum.
“Come here,” he commanded. “Get on your knees.”
Jocelyn turned to face him before sauntering up to her seated client. She kicked off her heels before kneeling and sat down with her ass settling upon her heels. Tomas looked down into those big brown eyes and glossy lips. He reached down to stroke her soft cheek before pulling Anacia’s scarf from his pocket. He placed scarf over her head and wrapped it around her face and hair, covering her entire face while leaving an opening at Jocelyn’s mouth. Her lips protruded from the silky swath. He secured the scarf with a knot before lowering his pants and sat back to admire his newest piece of art. His thumb parted her lips before sliding his erection into her mouth. He moved it back and forth over her tongue while clutching her silk cover head.
“Yes, that’s it, suck it,” he murmured.
Jocelyn’s sweet mouth accommodated his plunging cock which travelled further and further down her throat. Sweat had formed on Tomas’ brow. The image of Anacia’s body consumed his mind. He wanted to spread her legs and fuck her. It was then that cock erupted and he pulled Jocelyn’s silk bound head down upon it, leaning down to inhale Anacia’s sweet perfume and shouting obscenities as cum pumped into the prostitute’s mouth.
He stayed that way, hunched over her head, while his cock continued to jerk as it emptied itself in her warm mouth. And when it finished, Tomas fell back into his chair, cock out and utterly spent. He was huffing and puffing when Jocelyn unwrapped the scarf from her head. Taken by its beauty, she examined the scarf and spotted the designer’s name.
“Oh my God,” she exclaimed. “This is Hermes. Can I have it?”
“It’s not mine to give. Put it down.”
Jocelyn gave him an exaggerated pout before dropping it to the floor. She stood and quickly dressed. When she was ready to leave, Tomas shoved his cock back into his pants, got up and walked her to the door where they parted with good night pleasantries. He locked the door and returned his chair where he picked up the sullied scarf. Looking at it, wilted in his hands, he sighed and muttered, “Heaven help me.”
It was a rainy day when Anacia arrived for her first nude session. The sun was behind clouds but a dull white light filled the artist’s studio. Tomas readied his oil paint while Anacia disrobed in the bathroom. He was excited by the thought of seeing a nude Anacia for the first time. He’d long wondered what color her areolas would be and if her pubic hair was straight or curly. From what he’d seen so far, her skin was nearly virginal, devoid of scars, birthmarks and tattoos. He was at the point of the painting where he needed those details which had been hidden by her bikini. She arrived on time and seemed ready to bare it all. But when she returned from the bathroom in her robe and slippers, Tomas could sense her unease. She sat on the divan, tucked her hair behind her ears and said, “Thank you for returning my scarf. I thought I had lost it.”
“I found it in the bathroom. I, uh, had it dry cleaned. I got paint on it when I picked it up. Sorry.”
“It seems to be in order. Thank you.”
Anacia sat knock kneed on the divan, nervously twiddling her fingers as Tomas blended his paints. He set down his paint palette and said, “You seem tense. Would you like a glass of wine?”
“Yes, please.”
Tomas retrieved a bottle of wine and poured her a glass.
“It’s funny,” she said. “Now that the day is finally here, I’m a bit nervous.”
“Think of me like you would your doctor,” he said, returning with her wine. “It’s just a human body. I’ve seen a thousand before.”
“Yes, but not mine,” she replied.
Stunned by her wit, he took a seat across from her. They gazed at each other before her eyes shifted away. He watched as she sipped her wine and realized he had a silly dimpled grin on his face.
She mercifully broke the silence. “So, you’re from France. What brought you to Colombia?”
His head hung from bittersweet memories before looking up. “Like every man’s tale of woe; there was this woman.”
“Ahh,” replied Anacia.
“Catalina. She was a Colombian model I met in Paris. We had a thing and after she finished modeling in the Spring shows, I followed her back to Bogota like a lovesick boy. She’s from the Morales family, the ones who own the gold mines. Her connections got me work.
“So, you like Bogota?”
“I love it. Bogota is so wild and untamed yet sophisticated. It’s all very exciting.”
He watched as Anacia set her glass upon the table.
“Are you ready?”
She nodded.
She stood to disrobe. Tomas pretended to be busy mixing his paint but he secretly watched her lie on the divan and take the same position she’d taken a few times before.
Her pubic hair was straight and a shade lighter than the hair on her head. Her areolas were a dusky shade of brownish pink. It took him a while to blend the colors he wanted but once they matched the tones of her skin, Tomas began painting her breasts in tones of darkened ivory. He filled in the areolas with a pinkish taupe and took his time defining her nipples with tiny curved shadows from the most delicate brush strokes. After an hour, he stepped back from the painting and was pleased that he’d captured her perfectly proportioned breasts.
“Okay, I think we’re done for today.”
Anacia sat up and quickly dressed in the robe. She got up and stepped around the easel to view the latest addition to her painting.
She said, “Wow. Its’ really starting to shape up. Rafael is going to love it.”
“I hope so,” he replied. “I think I need two more sessions. The last thing we need to do is work on your face. Does next Thursday work for you?”
She nodded. Her watch beeped and she looked down. “I have to go now. I have another appointment.”
She dressed in the bathroom as Tomas began to clean up, putting his brushes in jars of mineral spirits. Anacia left with a gracious good-bye leaving Tomas alone in his studio. He pulled up his stool to the painting and stared at it, deciding on other details he wanted to add to his jungle themed background. Then he gazed at her breasts. They were gravity defying mounds; beautiful and luscious.
“Forbidden fruit, my friend,” he said. “Forbidden fruit.”
It was night when Tomas found himself drawn to the painting. He pulled up a reading lamp, shined it on the painting and began to paint a delicate pink lily in the background forest of dark green fronds and leaves. He became board with the flower and returned to touching up her thighs as the shade of her skin was still was fresh in his memory and he wanted to commit it onto canvas. He was refreshing his paintbrush when the doorbell buzzed. He cursed at the interruption before setting down his brush and palette. He wiped his hands on a paint stained cloth as he made his way to door. At the peephole, his eyes were met with a most unexpected sight.
Tomas pulled out his phone from his pants pocket and dialed her phone number. He could hear her ringtone outside his door until the blonde haired woman answered.
“Hi Tanya.”
“Tomas, I missed you. Let me in,” declared the woman with the posh British accent speaking fifth year French.
Tanya stood there in her high heeled booties, ripped jeans, t-shirt and leather jacket. She had a huge duffle bag slung over one shoulder and a plastic bag in her hand. He couldn’t resist her big blue eyes and let her in. Tanya entered like a hurricane. She set down her bags upon the floor to throw her arms around his neck and kissed Tomas’ lips. He remained dispassionate, hoping she’d take it as a sign to leave, but her face lingered within a breath of his and she had that look of love in her eyes.
“How have you been?” she asked. “Well, I hope.”
She didn’t wait for an answer. She released him, picked up her bags and walked over to the kitchen area where she slung the plastic bag onto the counter. “I brought some dinner; nothing special, just some chicken and chips. Mind if I take a shower? Just got off a flight from JFK. God, what a bother.”
She grabbed a cold bottled water from his refrigerator and guzzled it as she walked to his bathroom with her duffle bag and entered it, closing the door behind her.
Tomas sighed. He walked over to the bathroom door and called out, “You can’t stay here. I’m working.”
He heard the shower turn on before she cracked open the door. She’d already stripped off her clothes.
“Just one night, love. Then I’ll be gone.”
She closed the door and locked it. Tomas rubbed his face out of frustration. Tanya, his former summer fling, jewel smuggling flight attendant he met in a bar had just shown up like a cat who’s been missing for months. He walked over to a shelf of liquor and poured himself a drink.
Thirty minutes passed before Tanya came out of the bathroom. She was dressed in baggy shorts and a t-shirt with Miami written across it. Her freshly blown layered hair framed her cute face with a shag of shiny lemon gold hair. She went straight for her food, filling a plate before returning to a kitchen table. There was no fighting her. Tomas scooped some chicken and chips onto a plate and joined her. They ate, drank wine, and caught up with each other as they’d been separated for over a year.
Licking her fingers, she said, “I want to earn my keep. You can sketch me nude. Sound good to you?”
Tomas perked up. He’d always enjoyed the sight of her body but had never drawn it. “Yeah, sure.”
“Great,” she said, pushing aside her empty plate.
With a glass of wine in her hand, she climbed the stairs to Tomas’ bed. Tomas grabbed a sketch pad, a tray of charcoal pencils, and his wine and followed her up the stairs. He set down his drawing supplies to light some candles and turned on an oscillating fan aimed towards the bed to battle the loft’s humidity. Tanya looked over the railing to see his latest effort.
“Nice painting,” she said, pointing to Anacia’s near-finished painting. “Another fantasy of yours?”
“No, she’s real.”
Tanya dismissed it with a turn of her nose. She shamelessly stripped before flopping down on her back upon the large futon bed. Tomas sat on a far corner of the bed, getting comfortable at an angle where he was looking up her legs. Her body was an iridescent landscape of plains, valleys and pink tipped hills.
He readied her by saying, “Okay, now place your fingers down there, on your pussy, like that. Yes, now open the lips just a little. Okay, now stay still.”
He selected a pencil and began to sketch. Tanya was completely relaxed, sated by fried food, and drunk in her favorite lover’s bed. She reveled in the sweet torture of her clit exposed the fan’s wispy breeze and the indifference of this sexy man.
After nearly thirty minutes, Tanya crooned, “When you draw me, I can feel your pencil on my skin.”
“Quiet,” he said, as he rubbed the pale pink colored pencil in the outline of clit before smearing it with his finger.
She stopped posing and propped herself up to look at him. “Take a break and lie with me.”
He sighed. The sight of Tanya’s naked body lying in his bed, staring at her clit as he drew it on paper; he had become aroused. She was an amorous lover. He was no fool. Tomas set down his pencil and pad to crawl over her body, where she accepted him with open arms. Her big blue eyes sparkled in the candlelight. As he settled upon her, she breathlessly said, “I love making love to you. We fit together so well.”
He kissed her waiting lips as he rubbed his pelvis against hers.
He murmured, “You missed me?”
“I miss this,” she answered, wrapping her legs around his torso. “I miss your big, thick cock inside of me.”
His cock hardened under her words. Pre-cum moistened his sweatpants. He frantically tugged them down, kicking them off before returning to their embrace. His cock slid between her thighs until the tip nudged into her moist warmth. With a deliberate thrust, he stabbed his stiff cock into her.
“Ohhhhh, yes, that’s it, baby,” she muttered as he filled her tight warmth. “Oh, yeah.”
He loved her breathy little grunts. Such a little drama queen, clutching his back with her dagger nails. And as he made lover to her, she rode him back, matching his thrusts with her own. Tomas’ mind slipped to fantasies about Anacia; her writhing beneath him, wrapping her long legs around him while stroking his face with her hands. He envisioned her rose pink lips opening to receive his tongue. With that, he lost it. His groans filled the loft as he came cock driven balls deep inside her. He collapsed on top of her where they remained in a sweaty embrace, lazily kissing each other until he got up to get a chilled water from the refrigerator. He returned to see her lying on her stomach and he sat beside her and chugged some water before turning her head to dribble iced water in her thirsty mouth. He rubbed her pale butt cheeks which made him hard once more and, to her delight, he entered her from behind and fucked her again until they came together and were gripped in a shared orgasm as their bodies quivered in rumpled sheets. Tomas laid there, spent and happy. He spooned her little body and drifted to sleep fulfilled and utterly content.
Tomas awoke the next morning chilled by the early morning air. He heard the whirring of his espresso machine and looked down to see Tanya brewing a coffee. He got out of bed and stretched before making his way down the stairs to the bathroom.
He called down, “I have an appointment at one. You have to go.”
“Alright, alright.”
He pissed and showered and dressed for his session, watching Tanya’s slow progress as she prepared to leave. After she was dressed and ready to go, she called a ride share and waited near his front door as he readied his paint brushes. It was noon when her phone binged that the car had arrived. He stopped what he was doing to see her off.
With her duffle bag slung over her shoulder, she said, “My offer still stands. I’d love it if you joined me in Barcelona.”
“I like it here but thanks.”
“Until next time.”
They exchanged a passionate kiss before she got into her taxi and drove away.
Two months later and the De La Mora painting was nearly complete. By now, Tomas was drinking heavily. He never yearned for a woman as much as he yearned for Anacia. Though he was disheveled and deprived of sleep, he was sober when she arrived at her appointment. She took her position on the divan, lying naked as she had for the past few weeks. Tomas mixed his paints and looked at her with his critical artist’s eye.
“Your face,” he said. “I want to capture your sexiness, your seductiveness. You’re not giving it to me.”
Anacia frowned at first and then moaned as she put on her sexiest face.
“No, no,” he said, frustrated with life. “That looks forced. I want your feminine essence.”
Confused, Anacia said, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what you want.”
Tomas angrily strode towards her. She reared back as he grabbed her by the legs and flipped her onto her back. She didn’t resist. She had no words. It was as though she were entering another realm where nothing else existed but the two of their souls. His eyes took in her body as it’d done a dozen times before but still, he wanted to know what he hadn’t seen before. His paint stained fingers opened her legs. The divan squeaked against the concrete floor as he knelt between her legs. He lifted her legs, propping her knees over his shoulder, and planted his face into the downy apex at her legs. His tongue wriggled and darted in and out of her. He ate her as though her pussy were a juicy summer fruit. Anacia’s hands rubbed all over his head. Her hips bucked against his face and he gripped her hips and sucked her clit. Her breath hitched in her throat from her quickened breaths and her head began to thrash from side to side until she finally arched her back and emitted a primal groan. He kept his mouth upon her as she bucked against him. When she finally went limp, he withdrew his face from her pussy and released her legs. He looked down upon her face and into her drowsy, hazy eyes that looked detached from life; as though she’d left this plane and now resided in another plane of existence. He leaned behind the divan, grabbed the Polaroid camera from a table and began taking photos of her face. Her parted lips melted into a smile, producing a little curl at the corners of her mouth. The flushed color in her cheeks, and her eyes, that were a darker shade of green; he captured it all as she writhed from the aftershocks of her orgasm still sandwiched between the artist’s thighs as he dropped Polaroid pictures over her torso.
Anacia’s arms reached up. He dropped the camera as she draped her arms around his neck and drew him down for a passionate kiss. Her tongue wriggled against his and she moaned in his mouth. He couldn’t control it and fell onto her as he shamefully came in his sweatpants on top of Mrs. De La Mora. A minute later Tomas regained his senses and looked into her lovely eyes. She gave him a silly smirk. And though her arms were still around him, he disengaged and crawled off of her muttering, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so, sorry.”
Hiding the stain his pants, Tomas shambled off to the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. He stripped off his pants, cleaned up and dressed in a pair of pants hanging from a hook. He washed his face in the sink and looked at his reflection in the mirror. What had he done? He didn’t penetrate her. Doesn’t that count for something? He returned to his studio to Anacia completely dressed. She was tying her hair into a ponytail as he sheepishly approached.
He opened his mouth to speak when she said, “I think you have everything you need to finish. I won’t be back to pose. Call me when it’s ready. I want to see it before you show my husband.”
She picked up her packed tote bag, lugged open the door and left Tomas standing there completely ashamed.
The varnish was still drying on the finished painting when Tomas called Anacia to arrange a viewing before it’s official debut. She walked in and smiled that serene smile of hers. They acted as though nothing had happened as he led her around the easel to see the finished painting. Anacia clapped her hands over her opened mouth. Her eyes widened at the sight of her nude body reclining on a divan set in a fantastical jungle of dark green leaves and night blooming flowers. Her skin was radiant. Tomas stood anxiously waiting for her to say something.
She whispered, “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
They quietly stood there viewing the piece of art. He wanted to apologize for his behavior but remained silent until she asked, “It’ll be delivered before the party?”
“Yes, the framer will deliver and hang it for you before Mr. De. La Mora’s birthday party.”
“And will you be there? Please come. I want to introduce you as the artist.”
“I’ll be there.”
It was a beautiful temperate night when Tomas arrived at the De La Mora estate a few miles outside of Bogota’s city sprawl. The multi-million villa was lit up and music drifted in the country air as Tomas got out of the car which De La Mora had sent for him. Seeing the other well-heeled party goers entering the mansion, he felt underdressed in new jeans, an off black t-shirt and a nice suit jacket. But he joined the others with an air of confidence which others often admire. Once inside, he stood in the foyer taking in the details of the house’s architecture. He moved into a room and was impressed by the amount of paintings and modern statues they had, all blending harmoniously throughout the living space. It was then that Anacia emerged from the crowd, looking stunning in an emerald green satin gown held up by spaghetti straps. She spotted Tomas and smiled as she knifed her way to receive him. She gave him a double air kiss over both of his cheeks. Like Pavlov’s dog, he became aroused by scent of her familiar perfume but was scared straight when saw a plain clothes security guard staring at him.
As a good hostess would, Anacia said, “So good to see you here. You look great.”
“Thank you. You look spectacular as usual.”
She broke into a sweet smile. “Thank you, Tomas. You can get a drink at that bar or the one on the patio by the food. I hope you brought business cards. I’m sure people will commission your work once they see my painting. Oh, excuse me.”
She waved at a woman entering the room and left him standing amongst strangers. He sauntered to the nearest bar and ordered a vodka on the rocks before eating dumpling hors d’oeuvres. After receiving his drink, he strolled around the rambling house. He stepped out onto another terraced patio which looked out over the city lights. In the distance, he could see a pool, tennis court, stables, and guest houses dotting the property. It was a very nice gilded cage. When he re-entered the home, he spotted his host, Rafael De La Mora standing beside his wife. Anacia, being a bit taller than her husband, leaned onto his shoulder adoringly as he spoke to an older couple. When De La Mora saw Tomas, he smiled and beckoned him over. De La Mora disengaged from his wife and began to tap his glass with a spoon.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he loudly called out, causing conversations to cease. “My lovely wife has gifted me with a painting. The artist is here. Mr. Anjou, please come join me.”
Tomas stepped up and gestured a hello to glitterati crowd.
“The painting is in my study,” said De La Mora. “Come. Everyone. Follow me. I’m going to unveil this masterpiece.”
De La Mora walked with Tomas by his side while Anacia trailed behind with a glass of champagne excitedly chattering to another woman. They entered a dark green room with high ceilings and book cases full of books. On the wall opposite of his desk was the painting covered with a white sheet. Rafael stood before the painting as he waited for everyone to crowd into his richly appointed study.
“I have yet to see it,” De La Mora excitedly announced. He turned to Tomas and asked, “Did you name it? What’s its name?”
“La Fleur Nocturne.”
“And so I give you, La Fleur Nocturne.”
Tomas carefully removed the sheet from the painting’s ornate gold frame before stepping aside to look up the object that transfixed crowd. The audience gasped and awed before applauding the artist who stood there humble in his work. He looked over at De La Mora who examined it with a sharp eye. Rafael’s brows furrowed for a nanosecond before the creases in his brow disappeared, but Tomas had caught it. Anacia came up behind her husband and leaned lovingly onto his shoulder. Her bright smile lit up her face and he turned to kiss her hand on his shoulder before a smile returned to his face. Still, that frown, that glimmer of dissatisfaction. Tomas made plans to make a quick exit once the party guests left the room.
Rafael’s voice boomed, “Alright everybody, back to the party.”
He shooed them out and back into the areas where caterers waited with silver trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres. Tomas tried his best to leave but was stopped with business proposals. He was talking to an elderly woman who wanted a portrait of her and her Pomeranian when a man tapped Tomas on the shoulder. He turned to see Luis, the security guard who drove Anacia to his studio.
“Mr. De Le Mora would like to see you. This way.”
Tomas’ anxiety rose. Was De La Mora displeased? Shit.
It was a long walk down that hall to De La Mora’s office. The guard posted outside opened the door for Tomas and Luis. They entered the study to see De La Mora sitting behind his desk sipping cognac from a cut crystal glass. He was gazing at his new painting on the far wall before he acknowledged Tomas’ arrival. The guard who escorted Tomas to the room closed the door and blocked it with his body. In the eerie silence, De La Mora finally stood and rounded the desk. He put his hand on Tomas’ back and steered him towards the painting. The two stopped within arm’s length and looked at the framed oil painting of the luminescent female in the jungle.
De La Mora calmly said, “You know, my wife and I have been together for three years, five years if you count the years I spent courting her. I know Anacia. I know everything about her. And that look, that look on her face, I know that look. That is the look of my wife after she’s had sex. This is the look she has when she climaxes. It’s in her eyes, that dreamy look. I know this look because I am her husband. You should not know this look.”
De La Mora retrieved a cigar from a box and lit it with a wooden match. He puffed at it as Tomas stumbled to find his words.
“I told her to relax and act like she just had sex with you. That’s the face she made.”
“Hmmm,” he replied, before taking another puff from his cigar and shaking the match until there was no more flame.
They stood there in an uncomfortable silence before Tomas said, “I respect you as a man. I respect your marriage. I would never touch your wife.”
The painting remained the object of De La Mora’s stare and Thomas knew that the older man was deciding his fate. Tomas gave a nervous chuckle and said, “Look, sir, nothing happened. I just painted what I saw. I know you’re a very powerful man. I would never cross you. I like living. What kind of fool would I be to touch your wife?”
After what seemed an eternity, De La Mora replied, “I love my wife very much. I think its best if you leave Colombia.”
With that, De La Mora nodded to Luis who opened the door for Tomas’ escape. Tomas immediately left the party. He shifted nervously in the back seat on the ride back to the city, fearing that his driver would drive him further into the countryside, put a bullet in his head and dump him in the river. But he was taken straight home and dropped outside of his studio door. He entered and promptly slammed the door shut, locking all three locks behind him. He knew what he had to do.
Tomas left Bogota on a sunny October morning. Lulled by the dull roar of the plane’s engines, he sat in his seat nursing a vodka rocks and thought about his new life waiting for him in Barcelona. He had a good portfolio of work to show potential clients and had updated his website. Tanya was excited he was moving in with her. He’d lined up a work/share studio space and was happy about reconnecting with his grandmother on his mother’s side who lived just outside of Barcelona. Things were going to be good.
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Tomas reached into his pocket. His fingers nudged the wad of soft silk cloth. He pulled out the scarf and held it to his nose. Though faint, it still smelled of her. He’d never returned Anacia’s scarf to her. He’d simply ordered the same Hermes scarf from the internet and gave her the replacement. He had planned on dropping it in an airport trash can in Bogota as a gesture of leaving this chapter of his life behind, but he couldn’t let it go. As he couldn’t let go of the Polaroids he’d taken on that hot afternoon. He folded the scarf and shoved it back in his jacket pocket and wondered how long does it take for an artist’s muse to fade away? He knew the answer; they never do.