Justine left it a day. She didn't want to appear too eager or desperate. Also, it would give Corey a little time to readjust time zones, though he'd only been to the other side of the country.

The day itself was torment. So many warring emotions. How would she pose for him? Would he expect professionalism or provocativeness? Would she strip from the outset or tease him? Did she want to pose completely naked for him?

So many possibilities, and the more she thought about it, the more her body hummed with excitement.

Later that night, she picked at her dinner, made her excuses, and moped in her room to music until the restlessness of the day finally took her under.

She awoke fresher, with more perspective. Had a good breakfast of eggs on toast and dressed in a flowing floral skirt and button-up blouse. No bra. She sat in her room until Corey began tending to his pool. Watched him dredging leaves and draining the filter in just his shorts as the sun beat down on his bronzed physique.

The moment he went inside, she skipped downstairs, squeezed through the gap, and knocked on the back door. He answered, body glistening.

“Justine. Hi. I was just about to shower. You're welcome to wait or come back.”

She considered. “I'll wait, if you don't mind.”

He stepped aside and she brushed past him, the fleeting skin-on-skin making her belly somersault.

“I’ll only be a few minutes. Make yourself at home.”

She nodded and waited in the kitchen, fidgeting and staring at the bare selection of appliances until he reappeared in a T-shirt and shorts.

“Drink?”

“Just water, please.”

He fetched some from a bottle in the fridge door. Handed the glass over and she drained it, thirst seemingly unquenchable. He made her a second and she sank that too while he looked on, amused.

“Better?”

She nodded.

“Nervous?” he questioned with a glint in his eyes.

She nodded again and chewed her lip. “Sooo…”

“How do you want to do this?” he asked at the same time.

“Oh. Well, I um. I thought you might lead.”

“Alright. Any questions before we head up?” 

“How long does it take?”

He stroked his stubble. “Depends if you want one pose or many.”

“I love the ones on your walls.”

“Okay, let's start there so I can get an idea of what you like.” He swept his open palm out to direct her to the living room. “Shall we?”

Justine gave a slight nod and went first.

“Which is your favorite?”

She opened her mouth to speak and he held up his hand. “Take your time, look at the painting, the curves of their bodies, the poses, the way the light plays off their skin.”

Justine noticed his tone of voice changed, the passion rising in his words. They washed over her, leaving goosebumps in their wake. She wanted to please him, to get it right.

She brought her fingers up close to the painting but did not touch it this time. Her voice was soft when she spoke. “This pose, the woman on the couch. It caught my eye more than the others.”

“Why?” His voice was as soft as hers, and came from directly behind her.

“Her pleasure, or rather how freely she seems able to express it.”

She closed her eyes, his voice like fingers caressing her most intimate places. “Very good, continue.”

Justine wished she had more water. No one had ever made her burn like this. Her mouth was dry, and she had to clear her throat to speak, flitting her eyes open to study the painting further. “She is so consumed with desire that nothing else matters. I love the soft blush on her chest and how it’s echoed across her belly. It’s beautiful how you showed her passion in just the right places.” Justine took a small step back, her body skimming his before she leaned back further to rest against him. “It’s such a lewd act, but there is nothing lewd about her.”

“That was wonderfully described. Come,” he said huskily against her ear and offered his hand.

Justine took it and her eyes flickered up to his before he turned and guided her up the stairs to his bedroom.

To her disappointment, he let her go once she stood in front of the next painting. Holding her smaller hand in his warmed more than just the contact point.

“And what of this? What here made you want me to paint you? That was a mighty bold question you asked, so something had to have piqued your interest. Tell me.”

She once again found herself reaching for the painting. “Her.” Justine touched the woman straddling her lover's head. “She is strong and powerful. Taking what she wants. Despite…” She let her thoughts fade and pulled her hand back.

“Despite what, Justine?”

Turning to face him, she tipped her chin up in a slightly defiant way. “Despite always being told that we must be ladies, that we shouldn’t own our needs or sexuality.”

“Why?”

“Because...” she breathed in, pursed her lips and exhaled. “Because it makes us sluts.”

He nodded and gave a smile that revealed slight dimples, the corners of his eyes creasing. “Do you feel it makes you a slut to have those desires?”

Glancing to the floor at first, she swung attention up to meet his intense gaze. “Slut doesn’t have to be bad, Corey.” She said his name boldly, challenging him to argue with her.

Instead, he grinned and moved a stray strand of hair back off her forehead. “No, Justine, being a slut doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Owning your sexuality and exploring your desires is healthy.”

His touch scorched her body and she reflexively leaned towards him.

“Right,” he said, clearing his throat, “I think I have an idea of what you like. By any chance, were you a dancer or did you play sports?”

“I danced and played sports for years, why?”

He opened the closet and motioned for her to go inside. “It means you’ll be aware of your body, how to move it, and what positions will work best for you. This pleases me because it will make my job a lot easier.”

She climbed the stairs, her heart rate increasing with each step. Corey followed and went to stand behind an empty easel as she sat on the chaise longue, jigging her leg.

“Relax,” he said, squeezing some paint onto the palette. He eyed her. Grabbed some more colors and squirted. “Couldn't you have picked a more vibrant skirt? Give me a bit of a challenge.”

She smiled. “Oops.”

He prepared further colors. Nodded. “For the endstop image, it often works best with some squarer angles. For example, on all fours, chin resting on your hands.”

Justine stood and circled to the far end of the furniture, kneeled, and cradled her chin in her palms. “Like this?”

Corey nodded and kicked a cushion over for her to kneel on. “That's perfect. Reckon you can hold that for about twenty minutes?”

She nodded. He rolled up his right sleeve, daubed the brush in paint, and committed it to the canvas.

He was confident. Not overly flamboyant. Measured, as he swished and swiped. With each few strokes and moments of satisfaction and consternation that crossed his brow, Justine's curiosity ramped. She wanted to find out what he'd painted. How she was represented. It was maddening to be held captive in a single pose for so long.

Without a word, he walked over and took her chin in his hand, tilting it up just a fraction. Next, he ran his fingers through her hair, causing her to shiver. Corey gave her a small wink and walked back to the canvas.

When he finally stepped back and nodded that she could take a break, she padded over and gasped. He'd given life to the pose. Motion, even though she hadn't moved. As if he'd interpreted what was going through her mind and projected it; her need to escape the pose and dance and twirl.

It was amazing and she gasped softly.

“You like it?”

“It's brilliant!”

“Thank you.”

“Can we try another pose or do you need to rest?”

“I'm happy to carry on if you are. While the paints are all set up.”

Justine nodded and skipped back to the chaise longue. This time, she faced the other way and lay on her back, head at the end of the furniture. She turned to face Corey and drifted her hands up her body to the swell of her chest. Fingered the top few buttons and undid them. The creamy flesh of her cleavage spilled. She paused. Undid another. And one more, leaving just two fastened, yet keeping her nipples covered.

She arched a knee; the one furthest from him. “How's this?”

Corey had stopped to watch. “If I may make a suggestion…” He approached. “Can you scooch along a bit further so your head tips off the edge a little more? Not too much or you'll get light-headed holding the pose.”

She caterpillared herself back a few inches, causing her hair to drape over the side and down to the floor. Then resumed the pose. He nodded his approval while fluffing her hair out a bit.

“Fabulous. Now.” He reached out almost touching her skirt and stopped. “May I?”

“Please,” she replied softly.

He placed his hand just below her knee and pushed her skirt up, gliding it along the curve of her leg and across her thigh. Halfway, he let it go and watched as it bunched around the creamy soft flesh.

Justine gasped, an involuntary reaction deep in her throat. Something soft skimmed the top of her foot and she focused on the paintbrush in his hand.

“Close your eyes and feel it,” he told her.

Her eyes flashed to his and, at his gentle nod, she did as he said.

The brush moved lightly along the top of her foot, and then up and over her knee. He brought it down her thigh, teasing the inner part, and then brought it back to the top of it.

“Feel it, Justine.” He placed it at her belly button. “Feel each stroke of the bristles. Let it know your body, your curves.”

The soft bristles tickled the flesh between her breasts, and this time she moaned. “This is how I will remember you. This is how I will capture you.” It brushed gently over one small mound and then the other, causing her back to arch further. The breast closest to him became exposed. “Hold that pose, Justine. I need that. I need to see your flushed skin and body arched and offering. Keep your eyes closed.”

Her body shivered at his words, and she grew damp. If she had been sitting on the lounger, there would have been a wet spot when she rose.

His audible swallow preceded retreating footsteps. “I'll be as quick as I can.”

Her body was on fire. No one had ever had this effect and, although she couldn’t see it, she knew she was enticing. She knew that, at this moment, she was owning and displaying her sexuality, and that made her powerful.

By the time he was done, Justine's limbs burned, but the discomfort was eclipsed by the result of his handiwork. It was magnificent. Flowing locks like a waterfall pouring from the back of her head, chest skyward, one brilliant pink nipple hard and exposed. Her skirt was bunched, showing off her thigh. The whole pose seemed to promise things. Offering, he had said.

“Oh my God…” she breathed.

“That's good, right?”

“Good Lord, yes. How do you get such movement?”

He shrugged. “You gave me what I needed. That made it so easy to capture.”

She turned to face him, just inches away, looking up with wide, excited eyes. “Can we capture some more?”

Corey brushed a strand of hair off her face. “I think we’ve captured enough for today.” His fingers traced the edge of her cascading hair, following to where it dusted her chest and began buttoning her blouse across her breasts.

“Sorry,” she blushed and stepped back, taking over with the remaining buttons.

He reached out and took her hand and pulled her back around to face what he had painted. His warmth permeated her back and his words were soft in her ear. “Look at that and tell me what you have to be sorry about. Look at your body, your blushing desire, the way you are holding yourself—”

“Offering,” she whispered, interrupting him.

“Yes, offering yourself to art, to me. Never apologize for wanting more of that.”

Justine turned to face him and her fingers touched his T-shirt above his belt. “I won’t apologize for wanting more.”

“Is that what you want? More.”

Her fingers curled onto his top, leaning closer. “Yes, don’t you?”

“You are easy to paint.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she said, forgetting herself in the electricity arcing between them.

“I know what you meant and as the adult, I shouldn’t answer that.”

“I’m an adult.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

“Mostly.” She sounded so petulant that Corey laughed.

“We can argue that another time, we are losing good light, so how about you come back tomorrow? We can finish this then. Think of how you want to present your body.”

“I already know.”

“Perfect,” he said and walked her down the stairs and to the back door, where she slipped through the fence.

~oOo~

Justine put on the same outfit that she wore the day before. She didn’t want to take away from the theme of the painting. Her body throbbed with excitement. All night long she refrained from touching; well, refrained from cumming. She did allow herself to pet her aching pussy, trailing fingertips through the wetness and circling her clit until need bubbled maddeningly close, but she refused to cum. She wanted to take this feeling with her, to capture some of that desperation inside her on the canvas.

There was a moment of tension between them when she walked into the house, brushing by him. She wondered if he could smell her desire, but he said nothing and followed her upstairs.

“I’ve got everything ready, except for you.” He smiled at her and motioned towards the lounger.

She noticed there was jazz playing in the room today. It made her smile as she crossed to the chair. This meant he had thought of her visit and been up here waiting. That excited her even more. She sat facing him, feet planted firmly on the floor. Her eyes were on him and she shook her hair back over her shoulders and hiked up her skirt so it was resting on her thighs. Then slowly, teasingly, she crept her feet apart, wider and wider as she unbuttoned her blouse, pulling it open some until her erect nipples were the only things keeping the garment from swinging open fully.

Corey licked his lips, visibly aroused, and she grinned, butterflies beating in her tummy at the prospect of revealing the chink in his armor.

He stepped forward and arranged her hair again so it fell on only one side of the garment. “For discord,” he said. His gaze couldn't possibly avoid the swell of her cleavage as he adjusted the blouse, tugging it back off her shoulders a little way. His fingertips brushed her skin, dangerously close to the peak of her breasts, nipples aching for his attention. Justine sighed, arching her back a fraction.

He kneeled between her legs and rearranged her skirt so it rode higher on her thighs. She lifted them on tiptoes and her hips pushed forward of their own accord. Everything inside her was screaming for his touch. His hands were on her thighs and she thought he might lean in and kiss her, but instead, he silently stood and walked away backwards, appraising her the entire way to take up position behind the easel once more. “Raise back on your toes, please. Hands at your side, palms down, fingers facing back more as if you were supporting yourself. Yes, like that. Eyes on me.”

Justine wondered if she parted her knees, maybe an inch, whether the skirt would lift high enough for him to see how wet she was. The thought thrilled her as he worked, brushing and sweeping at the canvas.

When the third pose was finished, she nonchalantly rose and approached. He'd once again captured something inside her she had never seen before: desire. The need to break free of the painting. To explore and ravage, the predator fizzing beneath her skin. It was darkly beautiful.

Corey appraised the piece, cocking his head left and right. “You're a natural.”

Justine pointed. “One space left.”

“One space left,” he repeated.

This was the moment she had been building up for. The point of no going back. She wanted to look like those other women in his paintings. She wanted him to see her, all of her. As she returned to the chaise longue, she shed the blouse and flashed him a demure smile over her shoulder. At the edge of the furniture, she thumbed the waistband of the skirt and tugged that down to pool at her feet. Just panties. Her chest heaved and she was pretty sure Corey inhaled sharply at the revealed curves.

“Justine…”

“Yes?” She glanced over her shoulder, meeting his gaze as it swept up her svelte frame.

She expected him to scold her for being so bold but what he said surprised her. “Would you wear something I give you? A gift.”

Her nerves ratcheted and spiked in one burst. “Y-yes. What is it?”

He crossed the studio and picked up a flat, rectangular package. Brought it back and handed it to her. Forgetting about her bare breasts, she sat and tore off the wrapping paper, lifting the lid.

Inside were a single pair of red sheer panties, the same cut as her cotton ones. Only these were beautiful; risqué even.

The baritone rumble in his voice cut through the silence. “Red is my favorite color too.”

She gasped and snapped her attention up. 

He answered without asking, “Tiny security cameras dotted round the house.”

Her hand flew to her mouth. “God. You saw… everything?”

“And heard,” he nodded. “I love your inquisitiveness. We should celebrate it in the final pose. Capture it and show off your playful nature. If you're okay with that, of course.”

Justine didn't think her heart would last the evening; it would surely beat itself to death. She dropped her hand and stroked...