The Secret Life of Artists Ch. 04

"This sounds serious, Shania. If you can talk to me about it, I'm here."

I nodded. "I can talk about me, which is what it's all about." I sighed. "I've done this for years, and not once did I ever have an attraction to my client. I was always able to keep a distance and allow them to find their own groove in art."

"Soooo, you're attracted to him? I would think that it wouldn't be unusual given the right person aka the client. Maybe you haven't had it happen because the right man hasn't come along?"

"I'm not sure it's all that deep. It might be that I need quickie to get me over this hump," I smiled, making light of myself, but we both bust out laughing.

"Okay, whatever you say, but I didn't take you for someone that would let a handsome guy turn her head like that. It seems there might be more of an interest than a quickie in the afternoons." I hoped she wasn't right, but had no defense.

We went on to talk about the house and how she loved living at the ranch with the love of her life, Ted, and how lucky they were to have met later in life. They were a cute couple I thought, smiling and maybe just a touch envious.

I decided to wait to talk to Curtis about transferring to another art therapist. If I sensed any strain between us at all during his next session, I would insist on it. In all fairness to him, it had to be.

It wasn't unusual that my clients didn't share their issues with me. Doctor Davis was their therapist and I worked under him, either as an alternative to other therapies or in conjunction with. I was ready to listen should they want to talk. I would have to explain to Doctor Davis why I preferred Curtis go to another art therapist.

I discovered a local yoga group and got back into that routine. Remaining limber and flexible was imperative for dance, and admittedly, aging. Use it or lose it applies here too.

Curtis was waiting at my studio door when I arrived home.

"I hope I didn't forget our appointment?"

I was sweaty from yoga and still wore my yoga pants and sports bra. The heat was intense and I usually came home and headed right to the shower.

"No, I took a chance you'd be here." His eyes dropped to my tits tightly contained in the cotton sports bra, and my nipples instinctively hardened at his presence and began pushing through the thin knit.

"I just got back from hot yoga. Sorry, I'm a little sweaty. C'mon in," I unlocked the door and he followed me in. I blotted my face and chest with the towel around my neck and tossed it over the chair. "Would you like a water?" I asked and he nodded.

I handed him the bottle and sat in the chair across from him. Those chocolate brown eyes studied me for a moment, giving me enough time to be distracted by the curly black lashes and dimples that winked on and off on his cheek. Short shiny knit shorts and a tank indicated he was working out this morning as well.

"That's okay, I just left the gym from lifting."

My libido fought with my common sense to not look below his neck. He was slouched in the chair, legs spread wide and my common sense said you don't need to see the details. My libido said girl you gotta check out that body, and it won.

I cocked my head. "That's one thing I've not done is lift weights."

"You're very fit, you should try it. You might like it."

"I should. They say us older women should do some weight-bearing exercises."

He snorted. "Older women? That's not a category I'd put you in!"

I laughed. "I am fifty-three!"

He slowly shook his head. "Nope. Fifty-three ain't even old." He chuckled. "If you're interested you can come to the weight gym with me someday. It's small and not crowded."

I nodded, not ready to commit to doing anything personal with him. "What brings you here, Curtis?" I leaned forward to grab my water bottle and his eyes dropped to my breasts who often took on a life of their own when unfettered.

He leaned forward to do the same and when he leaned back, it was too easy to lift my eyes from the table to his legs. Bare, his thighs, lightly dusted with black hair, were even more impressive. Long knots of muscles ran the length, thickening in the middle.

His shorts had pulled up and created a red satin fist-size pocket that held his cock and balls. My cunt showed its approval by soaking the yoga pants. I didn't need to look at my nipples because they were aching and hard. There was a gap between his shorts and the bottom of his shirt that flaunted a ridge of hard muscle, softened by the arrow of black hair down the middle, into his shorts.

"I was worried that I offended you the last time. In the darkroom," he said, looking for some recognition. I nodded and let him continue. "I realize there are differences between us and I understand that you might have been offended by my actions."

"Curtis, if you're referring to the color of our skin, that has nothing to do with it. At least for me." I took a moment to think out how I wanted to say this because through it all I had to remember he was a client. "I don't want to do anything inappropriate in our relationship. You are here on the advice of Doctor Davis, and I do art therapy. I'm not your doctor, but I have to abide by the same rules."

"Ah, okay, I understand. So if I'd fire you, we would no longer have a professional relationship?"

"Well yeah, but I'd have to explain to Doctor Davis why you fired me and it would go on my record, so I'd prefer if we didn't do it that way," I said, nervous that he even thought about doing that.

"So we can't have any kind of a relationship other than you're my therapist?"

"Curtis, that is what you came here for so I would like to see this through, and--" I stopped when he made one of those male adjustments, which I'm sure was natural to him, but it was a waving flag of attention to my lecherous mind. I cleared my throat and went on. "It all of course is up to you." I lowered my eyes because I was like a sex fiend that couldn't keep control of her mind.

"No, I don't want you getting in trouble, Shania." He searched my face. "I like you. I really like you. And I won't promise you that I won't continue to try to entice you." I cringed inwardly thinking it took all my resolve to resist him now. "And the sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can be free to be mine."

Those were strong words and I had to digest them for a moment. "I'm attracted to you, Curtis. God knows you have been driving me crazy since you first walked in that door." I was agitated and walked over to the student looms. "I really want to help you first, then see where we go personally."

I didn't have to look to know he was behind me. The heat of his body, his rasping breath, his spice told me. His hands were warm and comforting on my shoulders.

"I can't believe how small you are, Shania." There was a husky timbre that was in his voice that hadn't been there before. "I'd like to tell you why I'm here... I don't know if it's part of my therapy."

"Doctor Davis is the one you talk with. You may also talk to me, but it's not encouraged. I tell everyone to do what feels right to them."

His fingers wove together under my breasts, across my midriff. Although he eased me back against him, I felt as though I was more of an anchor for him for the story. I placed mine over his and relaxed. I hoped he felt as protected as he was making me feel.

"I was married when I was just out of high school and heading to college. I had a full ride for football and going to the best college team in the country, the one I always dreamed about." He sighed. "I don't know what I was thinking, getting married that young. I think I assumed she'd be a partner to me. Be there to support me. It was an important time in my life."

I felt as though I was melting into his body and wondered why I thought this was an okay idea.

He went on after a moment of reliving the past. "She was the perfect wife for a while, coming to all the games, attending various functions with me, then it all started to come apart. I had little money coming in, and she wasn't working and wasn't interested in taking any courses, so things got tough. She was bored, I guess. I was worried but honestly didn't have time to spend on her. Between games, practice, and classes I barely had time to take care of myself."

He shifted his stance, but still held me against him, but not in any sexual way. The closeness helped him get his story out.

I refrained from commenting at this point. I wasn't a therapist in the way that I could discuss his feelings. That wasn't my job. What I was doing now, listening, was what I was supposed to do.

"I was drafted and that made all the difference in the world to her. The money for one, the notoriety among our friends and family, and a much different social group. We attended many more functions, met people of popularity and fame. She was much more impressed than I was. My life was football and that's what I concentrated on. I knew I could lose it all in a flash if I lost my focus."

He took my hand and lowered his big body into a chair pulling me onto his lap. He wrapped his arm around me, his hand loosely on my hip.

"I don't know, Shania... Am I supposed to be telling you all this? I mean I want to, but don't want it to interfere with me being here."

"That's why have to back-burner any personal involvement, Curtis. You can talk about it and I listen as your art therapist. I can't advise you as Doctor Davis can, but I certainly can listen. Oftentimes that helps. Getting it out," I said.

"I like you being close to me. Is that okay?" Because I knew his reasoning I nodded. "Okay, so one of my buddies said he thought he saw my wife with another guy that wasn't a ballplayer. I wasn't really surprised I guess. I brought it up to her immediately and she admitted she met someone once, and that it was nothing but a one-time fling. I believed her because I loved her." I could hear the pain in his voice.

He picked up his bottle of water off the table next to him and took some long swallows. "Nearly a year went by, and I heard the same story from someone else. But they had seen her with someone else several times. Our exchange was angrier and she begged me to stay, that she was over it. I wasn't convinced this time, but I stayed with her."

He hesitated, and set the bottle on the table next to him. "One time when we were on a road trip we had a late game and wasn't due to come back until the next morning. They decided to fly us out that night because a snowstorm was due to hit overnight."

He stopped and gazed out the window for a bit, as though he had to gather the courage to remember.

"As soon as I opened the door to our condo I smelled the sex. It hung heavy as though it has permeated the walls. I didn't want to see it, but it was crucial I sear it into my brain so I would never put myself through it again. I needed to smell, see and feel the pain."

"And I haven't. This happened three years ago, and every time I've met a woman, I just can't get close. The more I try the more anxiety I have, and for my own mental health, I have to back off. I don't know how to learn to trust again." The desperation was apparent in his voice.

"Well, I'm sure Doctor Davis has talked with you about the situation. My job is to show you how you can channel your anxiety. Once you can do it through weaving, you'll find many other ways."

He nodded. "I already feel more in control. I admit Shania, I had my doubts. How sitting there with a bunch of yarn would make a difference... But it really has. I wish I could explain it."

"You don't need to try to understand, it can be something you just feel. Avoiding anxiety, and handling it when you do feel anxious will become instinctive."

After we overcame that, reality intruded that I was sitting on his lap, still sweaty, and above all it was inappropriate. While my brain was attempting to process that, he ran his big beefy hand up and down my back. His thumb and forefinger massaged the base of my neck, then back down.

"You're always relaxed, aren't you?" His voice was low and seductive, and my common sense said get up, but my libido said, just let me enjoy this for another minute.

"I need a shower," I murmured, aware enough of that.

"So, do I. Want to share? I've seen that big shower in there. I can even fit in it."

"Mmmm," I softly moaned as his fingers worked magic on my back and neck.

"I need you, Shania. Like I've never needed anyone in my life." There was an underlying tremor of emotion in his husky voice.

We did have a tenuous web between us that was fragile yet flourishing without consent. It was palpable from the minute he invaded my space. Beyond my libido. He found the weakness in my armor, whether he knew it or not.

I had been sitting on his lap most innocently. I sat up, not leaning against him. We had only touched through my legs and ass on his thighs. Until he started stroking my back. Until he urged me back against his hard chest.

"Curtis... I don't think this is a good idea... If we go further, I'll have to turn you over to another therapist."

His lips were against my temple. "Awh, c'mon Shania. Doc Davis will never know. And you're already helping me."

His spicy male musk infiltrated my brain like warriors stomping through my head to make his case. His beefy hand rubbed up and down my side, the tips of his fingers barely grazing the side of my breast, leaving tingles in its wake. It was all so soothing, and my softness began to melt right into his hard body.

"I'm too old for you," I murmured, groping for any last vestige I had of sense.

He laughed so hard I bounced on his chest, which made me giggle, which made him laugh harder. "You're also smaller than me, but I haven't let that bother me." I heard the humor, ignored the sarcasm.

I pushed up to look him in the face. "I am-" He quickly closed the space between our lips, held the back of my head, and began kissing me with a passion I'd never felt. The intensity pulled me right into it. I moaned, lay my hand on his chest, and kissed him back with as much passion.

Our tongues danced and dueled, I ran my tongue across the ridge of his sharp teeth, he sucked my tongue rhythmically. I was spinning and ready to go down in flames.

He pulled back, gasping, "Let's shower, honey."

I knew there was no sense in trying to resist and led him into the dressing room. I flipped the switch for the ceiling lights there were dimmer than the blare of makeup and dressing area lights.

I pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it on a chair. His chest was as spectacular as I imagined. I trailed my fingers over his upper chest, and over his tiny black nipples that hardened to my touch. The tight black curls were soft and sparse, but thicker down the middle. His soft skin was buffed and lustrous mocha color, which seemed to be stretched over the hills and valleys of his muscles that marched down his stomach.

I smoothed my hands back up his chest, his breathing became heavier, as I moved over his biceps and upper arms. A low growl indicated his patience might be wearing out and I looked up. His eyes were dreamy liquid chocolate, hooded by thick black curly eyelashes.

He pulled the sports bra over my head, I trembled as I saw his dark hands on my body, felt his hands on my skin. He palmed my nipples and I moaned softly.

"Beautiful," he breathed.

I hooked my fingers into the waist of his knit shorts and eased them down. His magnificent cock lurched up and then hung heavy. It was thick with ropy veins. I wrapped my fingers around it and thumbed the head, spreading precum until it was shiny on the smooth skin and I head a guttural response. His balls were full and tight against the base of his cock.

His hair was trimmed short around the base into a velvety black matt and his balls had the same sparse curls as his chest. The darkness of his cock in my hand, the heat, yet soft skin, and the hardness. I squeezed it throbbed, and he moaned in response. I traced the thick veins in his abdomen, and up over the ridges of muscle. Up until now, he had been patient with my explorations.

He pushed my hands away and hooked his fingers in my yoga pants trying to push them down. They are tight and my skin was damp, and I pushed his hands away and began to shimmy them down my legs and kicked them away.

He held my shoulders studying me, his gaze washed over my body like a warm brush. "You're shaved," he stated, obviously pleased.

I adjusted the nozzles on the shower and warm water flowed out three heads. The difference in our height was even more apparent in the large shower. He leaned over and kissed me. We bit at each other's mouths and let our tongues dance in a sloppy hot kiss. He cupped my ass and lifted me off of my feet and I wrapped my arms around his neck. His cock took advantage and probed between my legs. It slid between my pussy lips and I gasped when it rubbed my clit.

As though we were in the middle of a rainstorm, the water flowed our heads, down our faces and bodies. My long wet auburn hair clung to my shoulders. He broke away, looked into my eyes, and lowered me back to the floor.

I dripped body wash into my hand, rubbed them together, and began circling my hands over his hard-muscled chest. I looked into his eyes, wanting to learn his body. His nipples tightened. My fingers bumped over the ridges on down his chest to his stomach. His cock jerked when my hands neared.

I cupped his balls in my lathered hand and used my fingers to toy with them. He sucked a breath through his teeth. The slickness of the soap allowed me to stroke his hard shaft.

"Oh honey," he moaned. I watched his eyes flutter shut. I palmed the head of his cock and he jerked and moaned. "Your hands..." His voice was a powerful as his hands.

I wanted this experience to be for him and didn't invite reciprocation right now. I was never one to indulge in mutual oral. I wanted to be free to enjoy a man's mouth on me, and I wanted him to enjoy the same. Sex hasn't been hurried to me since I was young.

I tightly held the base of his cock with two fingers and trailed my nails up the underside of his cock. I began stroking, running the palm of my slick hand pinching over the head of his cock on each stroke.

He grunted. Jerked with each stroke. Curtis took my head in his hands and kissed me, his tongue thrusting into my mouth with each stroke. I swallowed his moans and vibrating sounds and kept my hand in pace with our kiss.

He buried his face in my neck at the same time his cock swelled in my hand. He pushed forward and I squeezed his cock as he grunted and pumped out a huge load of seed. It splattered over my belly and the water created creamy rivulets down my body.

"Oh Shania," he breathed the words that washed across my ear. "I've never been controlled like that before." He straightened up and searched my face. "I am so happy to have found you."

He picked up the body wash and began to do things to my body that I've never had done. He stood behind me and with each breast in his hands began to knead and palm my nipples achingly hard. He pulled me back against his body, so his semi-hard cock pushed into my back. The size and darkness of his arms around my body were inflaming.

The contrast in my artist's mind wanted to paint that. I've traveled the world as an artist and have always been color blind to people and shocked myself at how arousing it was.

I leaned my head back on his chest and closed my eyes. His hands were magic on my skin and he found places that were sexually electrifying that I never knew about.

Fingers caressed my soft shaved pussy lips. His breathing was erratic as he slipped his hand between my legs and ran a finger through the folds. His cock grew harder against my back and he splayed his hand under my tits and pulled me tighter against him, trapping his cock between our bodies.