Chapter 23: Still life

When Doug got home one evening from a busy day of corporate shenanigans, he found a deliveryman there in the apartment with clipboard at the ready, awaiting Janelle's signature. This she provided with a flourish, then stood back, beaming at a pile of cartons and brown-paper-wrapped tall flat sheets leaning up against the sofa. The deliveryman duly departed.

"What's all this?"

"Art stuff. I been out shopping."

"Where we going to put it all?"

"I was kinda hopin' your study could be re-arranged a li'l."

He hesitated for a time.

"Let's go see what we can do."

They managed it, by bringing a bookshelf out into the hallway and turning Doug's computer desk around to face the other wall. Janelle unwrapped everything and stowed it as neatly as she could, then got rid of all the packaging.

"So, what have we here?"

"Easel. Canvasses. Paints. Brushes. Sketch pads. The whole shootin' match!"

"How much did this set you back?"

"A tad. But don't-cha worry 'bout that. Instead, if you could worry about this..."

She gave him a couple of sheets of forms.

Enrolment forms.

For a community college.

Art classes.

He glanced at the scale of fees.

"Yeah, okay. No problem."

"Thanks, sweetie."

Janelle planted a firm set of lips against his cheek and went "Mooouuuaaahhhh!"

Next she started to get out a few things and set up a canvas on an easel. It sat there, blank and forbidding, while she messed around with a few tubes of paint and a sketch pad and pencil.

Doug left her to it and went to watch TV for a while.

After an hour or so, she appeared before him.

Quite observantly for a man, he noticed she'd changed her clothes.

Gone were her jeans and fashion top.

All she had on now was a full slip.

White, shiny and smooth, with a broad lacy hem. So clingy. Such a contrast against her dark complexion.

Plunging v-neck, with thin straps over her otherwise bare shoulders.

The thin glossy fabric hugged her tits and tummy-roll as if applied by a spray-gun, yet fell tantalisingly loose past her crotch and swirled about her legs.

She was holding out a tangle of velcro webbing.

Uh-oh! Suddenly the area around his ears and the back of his neck felt hot and tingly.

"Is this how you reward a person that just bought you a shit-load of art lessons?"

"I need a subject."

"A what?"

"I want you to pose for me."

"Like how?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Oh fuck."

"C'mon! It'll be fun! Well, for me, anyways."

She knelt and in a trice his ankles were bound tightly to each other. He put his wrists together in mock resignation and they soon followed suit. Secretly, his heart was thumping.

"Slide forward onto the floor."

He did so, kneeling before her. The table lamp situated behind her silhouetted her strong tapered legs through the slip.

He found the sight of her very sexy.

"Slump forward and extend your arms along the ground."

He did so, and this brought his head down between his outstretched arms. He looked like a supplicant, a praying Muslim, a prostrated courtesan.

She found the sight of him very sexy.

She sat in the armchair opposite with sketch pad and pencil at the ready. Glancing up, he saw at once that she'd positioned her legs to give him a view straight up between those dark thighs to her snatch.

As far as he could tell, she had no panties on.

Naturally.

She took her time about it. He could hear her pencil scratching away for almost thirty minutes. There were a few rubbings outs here and there, and she'd curse softly under her breath.

He forced himself to be patient but, as the pain threshold in his aching back passed mere discomfort and approached borderline agony, he found himself suddenly blurting "How much longer?"

"Not long now. You will be rewarded."

Finally she stood up, and released his arms.

"Lie down and roll onto your back."

He did, stretched out on the thick pile carpet with spine mercifully straight at last.

She stepped over and stood astride him, still holding the sketch pad. Looking up, he could see her fuzzy black vulva peeping at him down a tunnel of sheer white fabric at him.

"Get your dick out."

Still fully clothed, he obligingly unzipped and pulled his boner out through his fly.