A Creative Challenge Ch. 18byPvidal©
"Two more minutes? Pleease?"
I knew that the arching pose Amy had got herself into was beginning to hurt, but my drawing was going well and I just needed to firm up some of its key details. Amy grunted at me through her clenched teeth, but nodded and held the pose. The window light was wintry and gentle as it shaped her smooth white body into soft highlights and smoky shadows, contrasting with the stretched tension of her torso leading up to her head which was flung back as far as it would go. I tried to draw quickly, but I didn't want to spoil a good start.
So where are we going, Amy? For our holiday."
"I'm not telling. You left the arrangements to me, so it's going to be a surprise. Does it matter to you? It's not like there's anywhere in the world we can't afford to go."
"I'll go wherever you want to go, I already said that. I was just curious."
Amy was being very secretive about the destination for our vacation. All she had told me was that we would have plenty of time to join the mile-high-club on our way there, so I was pretty sure we weren't going on a cruise. Which was just as well, because I am not a very good sailor, and just the thought of being locked in a floating motel for several weeks while it's rocking backwards and forwards and up and down was enough to make me feel like throwing up.
"Done." I said.
Amy slowly unwound herself, then collapsed onto the cushions and changed the subject as she loosened herself up and stretched like a cat..
"Has Greta got a court date for her hearing, yet?"
"Not when I spoke to her this morning, but you and I won't have to be there, it's only a preliminary hearing. The charges might get thrown out, anyway."
"She'll be disappointed if that happens."
"You're not kidding, she's been milking this for all its worth. She told me this morning she's been approached by some German art book publisher about putting out a big coffee table book on my work."
"Do you mean a real art publisher, or an ART publisher?" said Amy, giving me a 'nudge-nudge, wink-wink' sort of look.
"No, I think they are a real art house. I think the Germans like that sort of thing."
"They like lots of things, Sam. Not all of them very wholesome."
"Well, they like my stuff, anyway. And Greta's just about finished checking the contracts on the poster deal she put together, too. They agreed to that huge advance on royalties, by the way."
"You can definitely afford this holiday, then", said Amy.
"WE can afford it. Half those royalties are yours, too."
"No, Sam. Not this time. I'm happy to split some of the cash with you, when it comes in, and I'm really grateful for it, but I can't be part of any royalty agreements. No contracts."
"Because one day I might not want to be here, and if I can't leave until we have sorted the finances out, then it will be worse than getting divorced."
She was right, of course, and although I knew that one day Amy would be just a warm memory, that day could be tomorrow. Or it could be a long way off.
"And before you ask, I'm not planning on leaving here – you – just yet, but I can't say I won't ever. And when it's over, it's over. OK?"
Facing away from me, Amy flopped backwards on the dais so that her face was closest to me, but upside down. She raised her legs up and over her shoulders, head between her knees, so that her ass was pointing at me, and her face was framed by her upper thighs and her pussy.
"I think I can hold this for about twenty minutes, if you want it."
"It's novel, I'll give you that, but I definitely want it."
I had been this close to dozens of naked women in this room before, but with Amy the experience was always fresh and different, because no other model had ever been this uninhibited or creative. But even when you know someone's body so well, it's a particularly disconcerting thing to be staring into a woman's eyes when they are only inches away from her bare pussy. To have her watch your eyes while they look over every inch of her most intimate places. Watching her, drawing her, watching me.
Twenty minutes later I let Amy uncurl and she came behind the easel to look at what I'd done with her very unusual pose. What I had ended up with was a very unusual drawing. I had drawn it as a big close up, to try to focus the viewer's attention, but there wasn't one main focal point, there was two. The first thing you noticed was Amy's gorgeous pussy, top dead centre on the paper, but almost immediately you then catch the eye of the pussy's owner who is directly below the pussy upside down but looking at you with an almost quizzical expression, as if to say "what are you staring at, then?". The challenging look on the face completely captures your attention, so that when you look away from her eyes and back again to her pussy, you almost feel guilty, like you should be pretending you hadn't noticed it. Like to look at anything but her face was disrespectful, and an intrusion on her privacy. It was quite confronting, and even made me feel a little uncomfortable.
"This is a winner." Said Amy. "This one should go for at least double your normally inflated rate."
"Don't be so greedy." I said. "I'll see what Greta thinks."
"Sam, it's time you started taking some control of this opportunity you have. Greta is lovely and I really like her, but she doesn't think big enough. Your talent should be managed by someone who really knows how to exploit it without compromising your integrity."
"And that someone just happens to be right here, I suppose?"
Amy looked at me, puzzled for a moment.
"You mean me? You think I'm volunteering for that job? Hell, no, Sam. I meant a REAL manager. I have done enough marketing course units to know that you have a unique product, that just happens to be fully tapped into the zeitgeist, and we have no idea yet how much the market could be willing to pay for it. You could be HUGE, Sam, I mean MASSIVE. And if you're massive in the art world, we're talking serious dough."
"I didn't know you were so mercenary."
"I'm not, or I would already have talked you into signing a professional services contract with me that would fleece you rotten. And I could get you to do it, you know. If I wanted to."
"Do I have to be massive?" I asked, hoping that she wouldn't answer straight away so I had a chance to get back to my favourite subject, which I did. "I'd settle for big right now rather than huge. And as I get older, I think I'd settle for just getting hard every once in a while."
"It always comes back to your dick, with you men, doesn't it? You're so predictable."
"Yeah, right. If I'm so predictable, what am I thinking about right now?"
Amy sighed and rolled her eyes towards the heavens.
"You're thinking you want to fuck me, of course."
I pretended to be amazed. "Wow, how did you know that?
"I'm psychic. But I'm horny, too."
She flopped back onto the dais cushions, legs wide apart, and her arms stretched out to her sides.
"OK, paint boy, show me MASSIVE."
"On one condition."
"Please don't call me 'paint boy'."