Foolish April

Ten minutes later they were in her studio. She was still sipping her first glass of wine while he was already on his second. He noticed the fresh sheet of paper on the easel, and said, "Where's the sketch from last night?"

"Gone," she lied. "I threw it out."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I guess you were right, it wasn't very good. And I really didn't think you'd want anyone from work seeing it and recognizing you."

He arched an eyebrow as he started to unbutton his shirt. "You drew me without a head, there's only one person I work with who'd see that sketch and know it was me."

"Rebecca?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, April, you -- you're the only person I work with who knows what I look like without any clothes on."

Blushing with embarrassment, she turned away and started sorting through her box of charcoal sticks and pencils. But not before noticing as he unbuttoned his pants that he wasn't wearing any boxers. She didn't watch as he pushed his pants down and tried not to think about what was waiting between his legs, but she couldn't help wondering if he'd remembered to take care of it a second time as promised.

She sat in front of her easel and started to sketch a rough outline. On the couch, Ryan's position had changed from the night before. Instead of being turned sideways, he was now turned toward her with one leg bent in front of him and the other leg stretched to the side.

April knew the position would make it harder to draw his feet -- she hated drawing feet -- but that was the least of her problems. She was finding it nearly impossible to concentrate on the sketch as she kept sneaking peeks between his legs.

She gently bit her lower lip as she sketched an image in her mind of his hand wrapped around his cock, making himself come. And she wondered if he'd thought about her or Rebecca. But then an image of her own naked body flashed through her mind, and she grimaced as she scrawled her charcoal back and forth across the page, ruining it.

"What are you doing?" Ryan asked.

"It's wrong...so wrong," she said, and went to tear the page away.

"Wait, let me see."

He got up from the couch and moved beside her, his hand on the easel as he studied the rough outline taking shape on the page. "I don't see what's wrong with it. Why did you ruin it?"

"Because of the feet," she lied. "I can never get the feet right."

But she wasn't thinking about his feet as he stood so close she could smell the body wash he'd used when he'd showered before coming over. She was thinking about the thick half-hard length hanging inches from her thigh. She shifted on her stool, moving a little away from him.

And for the first time he realized how near he was, how naked he was. He covered himself with his hand. "Sorry, does it bother you? Me standing close to you like this?"

She shook her head, suddenly light-headed, and smiled up at him, trying to keep her eyes on his face, trying to look anywhere but at his crotch.

He gave her a warm smile back. "Good. It's important for an artist to feel comfortable with their model."

Pointing at the drawing, he said, "I think it's the position I'm in." And then he put his hand on her back as he explained how the soles of his feet were turned toward her, and that maybe it would be better if he lay sideways like the night before so his feet were away from her.

April nodded, but she hadn't heard a word he'd said. All she could think about was the feel of his large hand against her small back. The touch of his fingertips was electric. And in her mind's eye she pictured his hand and arm behind her, every muscle and tendon sculpted in marble, like David come to life.

He moved away from her, sliding his hand down her back as he let go, and the absence of his touch broke the spell. She blinked, now even more light-headed than before, and absent-mindedly sorted through her pencils and charcoals, trying to regain her composure as she watched him from the corner of her eye. He went back to the couch, draped a blanket he found across it, and sat sideways so that one leg was aimed at the armrest and the other was hanging off the side of the couch with his foot flat on the floor. The pose gave her an unrestricted view of every inch of his anatomy.

April licked her lips and put a fresh sheet of paper on her easel. She sketched a rough outline again, working fast, one eye on the easel and one eye on her subject. By the time she reached his feet she knew this position would make them easier to draw. The foot on the floor gave her no problem at all, but she was still struggling with the one on the couch. And then she had an idea.

She hopped down from her seat and hurried toward him. "Don't move! If you do I'll have to start all over."

Ryan obeyed her and didn't move an inch. And when she reached him she turned her head, so she wouldn't be staring directly at his crotch. "I just want to touch you -- I mean, your foot! I just want to touch your foot."

He smiled. "It's okay. You can touch me."

She blushed. "It just helps me with the visualization if I can touch my subject, feel its size, its shape." She sat on the couch between his legs, her back to him, and leaned forward as she curled her tiny fingers around his instep.

He twitched at her touch.

"Don't move."

"I can't help it. You're tickling me."

"Sorry," April said, trying not to smile as she touched his foot again, tenderly tracing the fingers of her left hand from his toes down across the ball of his foot, and then along his instep and arch toward the heel. And then she traced the same path with her other hand while her left caressed his calf, feeling the powerful muscle alongside her.

"You have really big feet, but they're beautiful," she said.

"I don't think anyone has ever called my feet beautiful before."

"They are. Mine are small and ugly. Yours are so long and graceful, like a dancer's."

He laughed. "You don't want to see me dance."

She laughed too and glanced back as she smiled at him, momentarily forgetting that he was completely naked. But when she saw the stiff length standing completely erect right behind her she quickly turned back around, her eyes wide.

"Sorry," Ryan said. "It's just...the way you were touching my feet."

April didn't answer. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to forget what she'd just seen, but it didn't help. All she could think about was the thick length inches away from her and the way it swayed back and forth, aching to be touched.

Ryan reached out and lightly pressed his fingers against her back. "Hey, are you okay?"

She nodded.

He caressed her back with his hand, slid it up to her shoulder. And then he whispered, "You can touch it too, if you want. You know...to help you visualize it."

She stiffened as soon as he said it and he instantly knew he'd said the wrong thing. "Fuck! Sorry, I don't know why I said that." He pulled the blanket from the back of the couch down, trying to cover his crotch, and went to get up.

April squeezed his leg and stopped him. "Don't...please."

He waited with her still sitting between his legs, his cock hidden beneath the blanket. And when she turned around her eyes lingered on his still obvious erection before glancing up at him.

'I'm sorry if I'm not as...good at this as other girls might be," she said. "But you're going to have to believe me when I tell you I'm not used to having naked men in my studio. In fact, I'm not used to men at all.

"When I was a girl, going to school, I did everything I could to avoid boys. The girls were nice enough, but the boys always went out of their way to make fun of me. When I turned eighteen and went to art school I thought it would be different. I thought artists would be different.

"And they were...at first. The girls were friendly and did everything they could to help me and most of the boys did too. For the first time in my life I felt like people were looking at me like I was a person, not a freak.

"There was one boy who was extra nice. He always made sure to be my partner in class, and I remember how he teased me the first time we had a nude male model and he saw how embarrassed I was.

"After class, he apologized and told me how he wanted to make it up to me, wanted me to come over to his apartment. He said he thought he had an idea of how to make me more comfortable around naked men.

"I should have known what was coming. We sat on his couch and he took off his pants and made me play with his...thing. And I -- I liked it. I liked him. We did it and, obviously, it was the first time for me. It was nothing special, but it was special to me.

"I can still remember waiting for the bus the next morning. It was May and I don't think I'd ever seen a sky so blue. And then a girl from my class sat beside me.

"She felt bad telling me, but figured I should know. Apparently, there'd been a bet between some of the boys in our class. Her brother had told her about it. The bet was to see who could be the first to cross a midget off their fuck-it list. And the boy I'd slept with had been more than happy to text every boy in the class the minute I left to let them know he'd won.

"I never caught that bus. I never went back. That's why I don't have my art degree and why this is so...hard for me."

"April, I'm so sorry...about everything. I shouldn't have pushed you like I did." He tightened his grip on the blanket and went to stand up.

"Wait, I don't want you to go." She stopped him and made him sit back down. "I want to draw you. I want...this."

She took a deep breath and slid her hand under the blanket, her heart pounding in her chest as her fingers touched the inside of his bare thigh.

Ryan didn't say a word as he watched her. He just licked his dry lips and opened his legs as she slid her hand higher.

Her fingers grazed against his flesh and he slowly exhaled as she traced his length. Her story had been like an ice-cold bucket of water, extinguishing the heat that had consumed him moments earlier. But now, as she circled her palm against his smooth skin, the fire awakened.

He stiffened and she curled her fingers around him, slowly stroking his thick shaft as he grew harder. April glanced up and saw he was watching her, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure as she touched him beneath the blanket. She pulled it back and both of them stared at her small hand, wrapped tightly around his swollen length.

"You were supposed to take care of this before you came over," she whispered.

"Sorry."

"I can't draw you like this...do you want me to take care of it?"

He didn't need to answer. The look in his eyes said it all.

April nervously bit her lower lip as she wrapped both of her hands around his swollen pole and slowly started to stroke him. She couldn't get her fingers completely around him, but that had nothing to do with her size; he was so thick she doubted many women could.

She pumped her hands up and down, gently twisting them back and forth, letting her thumb caress his knob on every upstroke. She'd only done this once before, but Ryan's sighs and soft moans let her know she was doing just fine.

She licked her lips as she pumped him even faster, squeezing his stiff length even tighter. And as her small but eager hands pushed him closer to the edge her artist's eye couldn't help noticing every curve, every line of his body.

Her gaze drifted up from the masterpiece wrapped between her fingers to his abdomen, tracing the hard lines of his flat stomach before sliding across his strong, muscular chest. His arm was lying across the back of the couch and she traced it with her eyes down to his hand where his fingers were clenching and unclenching as she jerked him off.

April twisted around to stare at his feet, watching as his toes started to curl. And then he let out a low groan and she turned back just in time. She felt it as it shot out, felt it forcing its way past her fingers as it spurted forth from his swollen tip and landed heavily on his stomach. She squeezed him even tighter, stroking him faster as more and more kept squirting out.

He groaned and squeezed her shoulder, holding onto her as she pumped the last few drops from his fat length. And then he collapsed against the couch completely spent, his body limp as he lay there with his chest heaving, trying to catch his breath.

April's eyes went wide with excitement. "Don't move -- this is perfect!"

Ryan couldn't move if he tried. He was numb with pleasure, his body sprawled across the couch and his exhausted cock sprawled across his thigh. He watched, fascinated, as April went to work. Her eyes were alive as they darted between him and her easel, her hand wildly whipping back and forth across the paper as if it had a mind of its own, sweeping in circles and shooting back and forth, thick charcoal lines in its wake.

Minutes later she was finished, and her arm dropped limply to her side as the charcoal stick fell from her palm to the floor. Now, she was completely spent; her chest heaving with emotion as she eyed her creation.

Ryan leapt up from the couch and hurried to her side, both of them oblivious to the fact that he was standing beside her completely naked as both of them stared at her sketch.

"It's amazing," he said, as his eye traced her bold but precise lines.

"I think it's the best thing I've ever done."

"Will you finish it?"

She shook her head. "It is finished."

And when he looked at it again he knew she was right. To the untrained eye the work was little more than a rough outline, but to Ryan, who'd been there, the drawing captured the rawness, the intimacy, the spontaneity of everything that had just happened between them. He didn't think he'd ever seen anything more beautiful in his life.

"Congratulations," he said, and laid his hand on her back.

She'd been lost in her work and his touch seemed to pull her back to reality. She turned toward him and as her eyes fell across the thick length hanging inches from her she seemed to realize for the first time how naked he really was.

April pulled away from him, blushing as she bent down to pick up the vine charcoal stick from the floor. "Thanks for posing for me," she said. "It's late. You better get going."

Without waiting for his reply, she headed back down the art-filled hallway to her living room. She was waiting by the front door when Ryan came out from the studio, his clothes back on and his folded coat in his hand.

She opened the front door. "Thanks for coming over and...umm...everything else."

He knelt down on one knee, so he was the same height as her, and lifted her chin with his hand as he tilted her lips toward his. "No, thank you."

The kiss was soft, tender but brief. And it made April feel like her feet were floating a foot above the floor. When he broke it her eyes fluttered open, and she slowly drifted back to earth as he went to leave.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" he said.

She smiled. "Yes, definitely."

He disappeared down the walk into the night and she closed the door, went back to the couch and poured the last of the wine into her glass. And as she lifted it with both hands and tipped it toward her mouth she savored the taste, letting the flavor linger on her tongue like his kiss lingered on her lips.

She closed her eyes, intoxicated by the memory of him lying on the couch, naked before her. She could still see every curve, every line, and a warmth came over her as she sketched him again, etching him eternally onto her heart.

* * *

April walked into the office still smiling from the night before. She'd seen Ryan's car in the parking lot and had half-expected to find him waiting in her cubicle. But her smile faded when she saw who was waiting there instead.

Rebecca was sitting at her desk, going through the drawers as if they were her own.

April said, "Umm...good morning. Can I help you find something?"

Rebecca glanced up at her, unsmiling. "I was just looking for a post-it so I could leave you a note. But now that you're here I can just tell you. You're not needed in the meeting today."

April blinked in surprise. "What? Why not?"

"Because I've decided against letting you letter this project. Susan's a shitty speller, but at least she has some talent."

Before April could respond Rebecca stood and strode past her, nearly knocking her back into the filing cabinet. The clatter of her heels echoed off the walls like gunshots as she stormed away, obviously angry.

April stared at her desk bewildered; every drawer was open and the work she'd completed for Rebecca earlier in the week had been dumped in the wastebasket. As she bent to retrieve it, wondering if Rebecca was still mad because of her comment on her color scheme, she heard footsteps behind her.

Her smile returned when she saw it was Ryan.

"Morning, April. I just wanted to remind you that the project meeting's in fifteen minutes."

"But...Rebecca said for me not to go to it. She said I wasn't needed?"

"Yeah, well, Rebecca doesn't really have a lot of say in the matter. I'm the assistant art director and I say you are needed. See you there."

Fifteen minutes later, April walked into the conference room with a pad of paper under her arm and a pen in her hand. She took her seat as Rebecca glared at her from across the table. She half-expected her to order her to leave, but she stayed silent as the rest of the participants joined the meeting.

Susan took the seat beside Rebecca while Ryan sat beside April. Zander, the creative director, took his place at the head of the table.

"Okay, Rebecca," he said, "let's see the new layouts."

Still glaring at April, she slid her portfolio across the table.

Zander opened it and stared at the colored drawings inside, baffled. "These are exact same layouts from the other day. Why didn't you redo them like you were told to?"

"Because there's nothing wrong with them; the color scheme is perfect. And I refuse to compromise my work based on the opinion of the one person in this company who has absolutely zero artistic ability."

Zander rolled his eyes. "Rebecca -- "

"No!" she said, leaping to her feet. "I'm not finished. I know there are people here who are jealous of my art, jealous of my talent. But there is no way I'm going to let him or his little pet -- "

"Rebecca!" Zander shouted, slamming his hand against the table to get her attention. "I'm the one who told you to redo your work, and with a master's degree in art I assume you feel I'm qualified to question it. The color scheme is wrong and so is the entire proposal. You will redo it."

"I won't," Rebecca said, crossing her arms. "And anyways, the deadline for this project is less than three days away. There isn't enough time."

Zander's face turned purple with anger. "There would have been enough time if you'd followed my instructions!"

Ryan glanced at April as he stood up. "Can I make a suggestion, Zander?"

"Please."

"I suggest we completely pull Rebecca from this project."

"What the fuck?!" she cried out. "You see? You see how he's got it out for me, how he wants to tear me down?"

Ryan ignored her. "I suggest we pull Rebecca from this project," he continued, "and have another member of our staff finish the initial layouts before our client arrives."

Rebecca laughed, her voice filled with contempt. "Who? You? Susan? Neither one of you has anywhere near my experience or talent." She turned to Zander. "And if you let either of them touch my project I guarantee you will blow this deal. You'll sink this whole fucking company!"

He fixed her with an icy stare. "Rebecca, please sit down. Now."

She reluctantly did so, crossing her arms as she glared across the table.

On the other side, Ryan said, "She might not have the experience, but I know she has the talent. And you've told me many times that what this firm needs is a fresh approach. The artist I want to recommend is...April."