An Artist

I was quite surprised when I ran into Emma while down the street. I hadn't seen her since school but I recognised her right away. She hadn't changed a bit.

Emma was a slender blonde, almost Tinkerbell in general appearance. She was also an artist, quite a good one. She'd always topped the class in art and had won a few prizes. She'd been heading overseas to study art the last I heard.

I hailed her and suggested coffee, my treat. She gave me a considering look, probably trying to remember who I was, and then agreed. We went into a nearby shop, ordered, and say down.

"It's Gavin," I said softly and she blushed.

"I knew that," she said quickly, blushing even more when I laughed. She was notorious for forgetting names, generally one minute after being introduced.

We talked about what we'd been doing since leaving school. Further studying for her and then working to establish herself as a serious artist. Apparently she had achieved that to a certain degree and was self-supporting. I'd gone into stock-broking, hated it, and switched to real estate. That I loved and was now doing really well.

It turned out that Emma had recently returned to the neighbourhood and was renting a top floor apartment in a set of units not too distant from my own. She'd set up a studio in the main bedroom as it was the biggest room with the best lighting, using the second bedroom for herself.

She invited me around to look at her current work and I accepted. We set a date and I entered the time and place in my alarms. I then smiled at Emma.

"Not going to enter the time in your phone as a reminder," I hinted.

"No need," she said airily. "I don't get many visitors so I'll remember when one is due."

I didn't comment, just sat silently looking at her. After a couple of moments she blushed, sighed, and took out her phone.

"I would have remembered," she grumbled as she entered the details. "My memory isn't that bad."

"No, but you do have a tendency to get distracted. I remember a certain maths exam..."

She blushed again. She'd got carried away with a painting she was doing and the exam supervisor sent me to find her, extract her from her daze, and deliver her to the exam room. She'd got there just in time. (The teachers did make some allowances for her artistic temperament.)

"I'm a lot better now," she insisted, but I had my doubts. I was prepared to lay money that if the muse came upon her she'd stop whatever she was doing to attend to it.

The date for our meeting rolled around and I turned up at her apartment and rang the bell. No one answered. The door was unlocked so I opened it and stepped inside.

"Emma," I called. "You have a visitor."

Her head popped out of a nearby doorway.

"Oh, Graham," she said, "come on in and look at what I've been doing. We can have some coffee later."

"Gavin," I reminded her.

"That's what I said, isn't it?" she asked, seeming to be a trifle vague.

"Close enough," I agreed.

When I walked into the room I realised immediately that this was her studio. There were a lot of canvases scatter around and from what I could see they were excellent work, some of them showing a touch of genius. Emma was standing behind an easel with a large canvas on it, apparently checking over what she'd been doing.

"Look at this and tell me what you think," she said.

I stepped around the canvas and the first thing I thought of was that she'd been expecting me and had been getting dressed nicely for a visitor. The second thing I thought was that inspiration had struck while she'd been getting dressed and she'd rushed to her studio while the inspiration was hot. She'd told me once that if she didn't strike immediately she had the inspiration it died, leaving only a dim memory.

Why did I think her inspiration struck while she was getting dressed? She was wearing a very nice blouse, frills and buttons in the front, with just enough buttons undone to show a nice hint of cleavage. Unfortunately that was all she was wearing, being naked from the waist down and apparently completely unaware of it.

It appeared that Tinkerbell had nicely rounded hips, a flat tummy, long and shapely legs, and a smoothly shaved mons. When I say naked from the waist down I mean naked.

I manfully ignored this standing, breathing, temptation to sin, and looked at the canvas. I didn't know if it was complete or not but I had to say it looked complete to me. It was a landscape. I don't know where it was situated but the area was obviously hot and humid and a bit of a wilderness. There were woods there and you just knew from looking at the picture that the woods teemed with wildlife. They may not have been depicted but the viewer knew they were there.

"I've just finished adding the wolf," she told me proudly. "It was just the finishing touch the picture needed. What do you think of it?"

"I think it's brilliant," I said honestly. Even more honestly I added, "Wolf?"

She giggled. "Look there, very carefully," she told me.

I looked and all I saw was grass, bushes and trees. I turned to look at her and spotted it out of the corner of my eye. This time it seemed to leap off the canvas at me.

That's amazing," I said turning to look at her. "Are there any more animals hidden like that?"

"They're not hidden. You're just not looking properly."

I looked at the canvas again and nearly swore as the wolf had vanished again. She knew it too, because she was giggling.

"I've just used their natural camouflage to let them blend into the background," she said proudly.

"How much would that canvas fetch?"

"Dunno. I suspect that my agent will put this one up for auction. It could fetch anything from one to ten thousand."

Damn, and I'd been thinking of buying it. I promptly changed my mind. Still, I'd check out her other work and see if there was something more in my price range.

"Regarding your memory," I said.

"I remembered you were coming," she said with a smug look.

"Probably because you had that reminder. I bet you forgot all about it when you had a flash of inspiration earlier."

"How did you know I had an inspiration?" she demanded. "I did, it was how to do the wolf, but how did you know?"

"I know because when you have an inspiration it takes over and you forget little details."

My hand moved slowly over her naked bottom. Not wanting to be left out my other hand caressed her naked mons.

"Tell me," I said as I stroked her and looked into her fiercely blushing face, "can you think of anything you might have forgotten."

"Oh, no," she said softly. "No, no, no, no, no."

She was reaching down with her hand to feel for her non-existent panties, not daring to look because she knew what she'd find.

"This is your fault," she snapped. "I never have visitors here so it doesn't matter what I wear."

"Or don't as the case may be," I murmured, a hand slipping between her legs and pressing the soft warmth I found.

"Will you take your hands off me, please?" she requested.

"Now, Emma, do you really think I'm the sort of man who would take advantage of a girl because I found her in an awkward situation?"

"As a matter of fact, yes."

"And you'd be quite correct. Excuse me for a moment."

This room had been intended to be the main bedroom. As Emma was using the second bedroom as the main bedroom and presumably had her bed in there she'd stuck a small visitor's bed in here, over against the wall, as far out of the way as she could manage. I simply picked her up and deposited her on the bed.

I sat on the bed next to her, flicking open the buttons on her blouse. She was looking adorably confused, not sure how to handle the situation. She was trying to hold the two sides of her blouse together with one hand while covering her groin with the other.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

"Oh, think about it, Emma. I think you'll work it out."

I pulled the two halves of her blouse apart, easily overcoming the hold she had on it. The lacy little bra she had on I just pushed upwards, her breasts popping free. Very nice breasts they were, too.

Capturing her hands I moved them both away from her body, giving my eyes a treat.

"You have a very lovely body, Emma," I told her. "Have you ever painted it?"

"What? No. Why should I?"

"Where's your phone?"

She looked confused, turning to look towards where she'd been working. Looking over there I could see a phone on a small table there.

"Stay there like that," I told her, letting go of her and standing up.

I snatched up her phone and returned before she had a chance to rebel, if it actually occurred to her to do so. I took her wrists and moved her hands up above her head.

"Now stay like that for a moment," I told her, standing up again. "No, leave your hands where I placed them."

She was blushing but doing as she was told. Surprising really. I don't think she was naturally submissive. Probably a trifle confused. I took a couple of nice pictures of her. Checking to see how they turned out I was quite pleased. She looked nicely abandoned. I handed her the phone.

"That's how you should paint yourself," I told her. "I'd certainly buy it if you do paint it. I'd hang it above my bed."

"You're joking. I couldn't possibly paint myself like that. I mean, you can see everything."

"Not really," I said. "You can't actually see here due to the way you're lying. Just a hint as to what's there."

I thoughtfully brushed my fingers against her vulva to make sure she knew what I was talking about. At the same time I leaned over her and kissed a nipple, then moved over and kissed the other before capturing it with my mouth and sucking lightly.

Emma dropped her phone and started pushing at me. When that didn't work she tried hitting me. At least, I think she was hitting. The blows were too feeble for me to really be able to tell. Deciding I'd better check I lifted my head.

"Problem?"

"Take your hand away from there and stop kissing me like that."

"As you wish," I said.

I moved my hand away and stopped kissing her like that. Seeing she didn't say stop kissing I assumed that kissing in other ways would be acceptable and moved my head downstairs, so to speak.

Those lips were proving quite responsive, especially when I slipped in a bit of tongue. Mind you, Emma made a very startled sound, but as she didn't seem to be telling me to stop I didn't. Also, being a thoughtful type, I moved my hand to her breasts, just so that they wouldn't feel left out of the action.

After a short while, Emma twisting and squirming about under me, it registered that maybe she did want me to stop but wasn't sure how to articulate the message. I lifted my head and gave her an inquiring look.

She just looked back at me with a slightly stunned expression but didn't appear to have anything to say. Deciding that might change if I gave her a hint of what was going to happen I reached with a foot, hooking it over one of her ankles and drew her legs a lot further apart. Apart from her eyes opening a little wider she didn't react.

Reaching down I undid my belt and pushed my trousers down out of the way. Emma looked down at what I was doing, gave a small shake of her head and hastily looked away.

"Um, are you going to, um, you know?" she mumbled.

"If you don't tell me to stop I most certainly am," I assured her.

She swallowed nervously but didn't say anything.

I moved to kneel between her thighs, leaning over her, my erection now brushing against her mons. She was watching, looking to see what I was doing. I brushed the tip of my cock up and down along her slit, hearing her breathing become slightly hoarser. I stopped moving, the tip now pressing lightly against the passage, and then I pressed forward a little.

Just a little, but it was enough to cause her lips to spread and let me in. I paused, feeling those same lips close around me, and then I started pressing with more authority. There was not a word of protest as I started sinking deeper, feeling her starting to push up against me, flexing her hips and accepting me, willingly taking me deep into her body.

Emma proved to be remarkably responsive, moving with me as if we were old partners. Quite frankly, I couldn't help myself - I just had to have her as quickly as possible. I thrust into her, hard and fast, my hands on her breasts, my mouth on her face, kissing her and being kissed.

Surprisingly enough I didn't just fire off in a complete rush which was what I sort of expected the way I was reacting to her. Instead I managed to hold off (not intentionally but by some miracle) until Emma started goading me, demanding that I finish things. I put in a little extra effort and that was that, with me climaxing most energetically, finding Emma giving a small scream as she also climaxed.

We separated and she lay back, eyes half-closed, a snug look on her face. I simply grabbed her phone from where she'd dropped it and took another couple of shots. She laughed, took the phone off me and looked at the pictures.

"No way," she said, shaking her head. She didn't delete the pictures though.

I've had several dates with her since then, but with Emma insisting on meeting me away from her house. I suspected that she didn't quite trust me. (Or perhaps she didn't quite trust herself, which was a nice thought.) It didn't matter as I was prepared to wait for her.

She certainly hadn't changed all that much. She was as likely to forget our dates as not, and I learned to always call her an hour before we were due to meet, just in case. (She could still forget even then.)

We'd been together (after a fashion) for about three months when I received an invitation to a showing she was having. I naturally attended, wanting to see her work on display in a proper gallery. I drifted around the gallery, feeling appalled at the prices her work was fetching.

She'd been correct on her estimation of the landscape with the wolf that I'd seen. It had a sold sign on it, indicating it had gone for nine thousand. Even that wasn't the top price for her pictures.

On a wall at the back of the gallery, displayed in solitary splendour, was a single self-portrait. It wasn't yet sold but offers were invited. The latest offer was fifteen thousand by a well-known collector. That wretched woman had titled the picture 'Wanton', and it was a blend of the before and after pictures that I'd taken on our first date. Depending on how you looked at it you could see either her anticipation or her smug satisfaction.

"Don't worry," she said from behind me. "I have a similar picture for you to hang on your bedroom wall."

Maybe she did, but I wasn't going to be satisfied with just a picture. Somehow or other I would show her that.