The Muse Pt. 01

This is my first entry to Literotica, so any critique is well appreciated.

*****

The First Session.

I'm used to naked people. Enough life drawing classes will do that to any artist, male or female. When one becomes accustomed to enough nude bodies, one always comes to a point where it seems no different to a clothed one. Very soon, the idea of drawing someone naked loses all of its eroticism. This is exactly what I have to tell myself when he walks into my studio.

My original model is both female and late; an hour and a half late, as a matter of fact. She should have been here at three and it is now four thirty. I'm not normally an impatient person, nor am I a violent one, but the amount of tea that I've had within the past hour is beginning to test that theory. Out of habit, I tug at my hair in frustration, nearly leaving a mess of long, dark threads between my pale fingers. No messages, no missed calls and not even a text.

"Fucking Natalie," I murmur, half to myself and half to my model.

I down my third or fourth cup of tea of the hour and desperately need another. I don't care if the caffeine will fire me up enough to kill Natalie on the spot once I see her. I'm almost certain that I'll have a perfectly good defence for the police when they catch me.

"Yes, officer," I recite, as I fill and boil the kettle for another cup. "I did kill her, but I have my reasons. You see, as starving artists like myself do, I have bills and rent to pay. Since the victim was meant to be the subject of this recent project, I simply had to use my palette knife to slice her throat for neglecting her duties as a model and therefore putting my job at risk."

"Wouldn't solvent be more effective?"

Startled, I turn to the open door, but standing by it is not Natalie. In her place is a man I've never met before; tall, tan, toned and almost bohemian in appearance. He looks like he could tower me in height and toss me back and forth if he wanted to. His dark hair is tied back and there is a certain twinkle in his equally dark eyes that makes my cheeks warm.

"Huh?" is all I can say.

"Solvent," he continues. "It's a toxic liquid, so it'd be more effective at killing someone if you spike it into their drink or something like that. A palette knife wouldn't really do much except maybe make a dent...and not on the victim."

There is a gorgeous stranger in my studio and the first thing he tells me is how to kill someone with arts supplies. This should be interesting.

"Who the hell are you and where's Natalie?"

"I'm Alex," he says with a wave, "and Nat says she's come down with a pretty nasty stomach bug, so she asked me if I could take her place. You're Helena, right?"

"Yeah and she couldn't tell me this earlier because...?"

Alex just shrugs. "She said you wouldn't mind."

Of course she did. Typical Natalie. That woman owes me a drink. That is, if I let her live until Friday.

"Fine," I sigh. "I'm sure my agent will forgive me for making a change in this project, so why don't we start with some quick poses and see what I can come up with?"

Alex nods. "Sounds good."

"You can leave your clothes and stuff over there, if you like," I tell him, pointing to the corner of the studio, where my own things lie. "I'll just grab my sketchbook."

"Okay," he nods. "I'll just..."

"There's a changing room to the left."

"I wasn't asking for one, but thanks." There is a smile playing at his lips and I'm not sure whether I like it or not.

Alex doesn't bother to use the changing room. I don't object and I'm not sure if I want to. As I gather my sketchbook and pencils, I watch him undress because I can't help myself. He's even more toned underneath all that denim and old leather and I count seven tattoos on his body: the bird behind his ear, the wings on his back, the cross on his shoulder, the writing on his forearm, the Claddagh symbol on his wrist, the string bow on his rib and the snake on his ankle. Soon, I'm not only observing his tattoos, but what lies beneath them. His olive skin, his toned muscles, his...

I have to look away once he notices me staring.

"Like what you see?" he asks and there's that smile again.

I don't answer him. I'm not supposed to like what I see, at least not here and now. I might like what I see outside of the studio when I'm clean of charcoal and paint, but for now this is just for work. I can look, but not touch.

We start with one-minute poses and the first thing that I learn about Alex is that he is neither subtle nor shy. His poses become progressively more suggestive, erotic even, but he moves with a certain grace that makes even the most explicit poses look like works of art. I think if he made a homemade porn video he'd probably manage to make it look like an art house film. If he talked dirty, I wonder, would it sound like poetry too?

Where the hell did Natalie get this guy? I have to ask. Even as I'm facing his (admittedly very nice) arse instead of his face, I have to ask.

"So, how do you know Natalie?"

"We met through friends," he answers. "I was looking for work at the time and she mentioned her job as a life model, so we got to talking and...well, here we are."

"Did you think about getting into it before?"

"I considered it, yeah, but I never knew where to look until she told me where she worked and who she worked for."

He's looking at me now and with that smile again. He means me. He is talking about me. My cheeks are getting warm again.

I clear my throat. "She's mentioned me, then?"

Alex chuckles a little and moves into another pose, this time his cock in full view. I try to avoid looking at it, but I take note of its considerable length.

"Don't worry," he tells me. "She hasn't said anything about the bodies in the basement."

This, at least, makes me smile a little. I'm beginning to like his wicked sense of humour.

"How did you find out about them, then?" I jest.

"Don't all pretty girls have some deep dark secret?"

Alex is just as shameless a flirt as he is a model. I like that.

"Well, now that you know mine, can I trust you to keep it?"

Alex smiles warmly and winks at me. "Your secret's safe with me."

I return his smile this time. I've decided that I like Alex and hope to work with him again some time in the future, among other things.

Before I know it, it's six-o-clock and we've spent more time flirting than actually coming up with progressive work. Damn. By now I should have come up with something.

"Well, it's only Monday," Alex says when I tell him this. "I have the rest of the week."

Good. At least now I should have more time to get to know him.

"Here," he continues. "Let me grab my phone."

He rummages through his bag. He's still naked and clearly has no qualms with it, nor does he appear to have any qualms with walking towards me and asking for my number, regardless of his nudity. I have to bite my lip in order to hold back a laugh. He's doing this on purpose.

We exchange numbers and agree to do this again tomorrow, this time earlier and with more time.

Once Alex is dressed, he gathers his things and makes his way to the door. I'm almost sad to see him go.

"See you tomorrow, Helena."

"Looking forward to it, Alex."

"Me too."

He gives me one last wink before he is out the door and gone.

Almost immediately, I regret not asking him for a drink. As I put my arts supplies away, I lose myself in fantasies about what would happen if I had asked him. I picture the two of us having drinks at the nearby jazz bar, drinking and flirting like horny teenagers at a party until his hand is at my thigh, slowly teasing its way between my legs.

I shake my head of the thought and remind myself to save those fantasies for when I get home, where a new vibrator is waiting for me.

By the time I make my way home I have already lost count of how many fantasies I have had of Alex. I still ponder them when I make my way home, greeted by a hungry tabby and no one else. After feeding Frida, I lose myself in what is left of the weekend's wine as well as my own thoughts.

I think back to the details of his tattoos and wonder what it would be like to trace every last contour on his body. Would he respond? If I kissed him, would he kiss me back? What would he be like as a lover? What would he do to me? Would he be tender or dominant? Would he tie me up or hold me down? Would he make love to me or fuck me raw?

More questions run through my head as I step before the mirror in my room and strip myself naked. Being acquainted with so many nude bodies since college has caused me to take a good look at my own for the past few years. Throughout the years, I've grown to accept my petite frame, small breasts and how they contrast with my wide hips and heavy thighs. Would Alex like that? What does he like to see in someone? How does he like to fuck someone?

All of these questions and more were enough to make me wet on the way home, but now...now I can't stop myself.

In my bedside drawer are three vibrators. The first is a standard bullet vibrator, one of the first toys I ever bought for myself to learn my own body before giving it to someone else. The second is the vibrating dildo that my ex gave me as a birthday present, which I haven't used since he dumped me on Facebook. The third is the rabbit-style vibrator that I bought over the weekend and have only used once, until now.

As I lay naked on my bed, I close my eyes and conduct a fantasy about Alex.

We're having another session. This time, I direct him into character, whatever that character is. I arrange a costume on him that leaves very little to the imagination. The tension between us doesn't last at all. I kiss him without a word and he responds heartily. He holds me close and is already hard against me. I can almost feel hot skin closing in around me and I imagine what his cock would feel like in my hand or in my mouth. He forces me down to my knees and makes me suck him. His fingers are in my hair, but he doesn't pull or push; he just holds. He stops me when he's close and pins me to the ground, his hands firm around my wrists as he fucks me.

I come hard on the toy between my legs, but I want more. I want more than pleasure. I want more than something inside me. I want more than what a battery operated substitute for a cock can offer.

I want him.

I don't normally go into a state of afterglow after masturbating, but fantasizing about being with Alex even after I've come leaves me glowing. I feel more inspired now than I have in an entire session.

Before today I was going to paint my model as Artemis. Now, I'm beginning to think Hades is the more appropriate figure.