“What are you going to do with twenty paintings of a chubby Indian guy?” Raj asked one morning. It was still warm enough to be out on the patio, as summer lingered long into fall, and he stood tall, his pose firm and strong. It had been nearly ninety the first week of October, and he often retired to the pool when they were finished working. Alice sat by the side, dipping her feet in the water, but somehow never crossed that line with him. For the first time in ages, she didn’t want to break the spell that would surely come if she undressed. He was her model, she was the artist, and while they were friendly, he treated her with respect as a matter of course. She liked how she looked in his eyes.
“You’re not chubby, and I don’t know. It’s not like there’s anything to do with them out here anyway. Besides, I’ve painted over half of them.”
“Really? Are you saying my glorious nudity has been covered, never more to be seen?”
“I took pictures if you’re that curious,” she said, walking closer to him in the morning sun. His body was familiar now, but she always found something new to inspire her. Figures were endlessly fascinating and he was no exception. The fact that he was good company didn’t hurt either.
“What if I painted you?” he asked. She looked up at him, one eyebrow raised, and he simply smiled. “Or not. I just thought I’d offer.”
“I don’t think you’d like it,” she said, walking back to her easel. “I look different when I undress.”
“Don’t we all? I mean come on, all this glory is barely visible when I put my pants back on.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“You mean because you look young, and you think I’ll stop thinking of you as a woman and instead view you at a cute little teenage girl with no real thoughts in her head?”
Alice didn’t say anything, but she hid behind her canvas all the same. She continued painting in silence, unsure of how to respond. The thought of taking him up on his offer was confusing, to say the least. They had gotten to know each other well over their weeks together, and he was easy to be with. But as always, she knew exactly what would happen.
“Can I be blunt with you?” she finally asked.
“You always have been,” he said. “At least I’ve assumed that was you being blunt. But sure, go ahead. Blunt at me.”
“When I undress for men, I get one of two reactions: lust or horror. Occasionally the horror is simply that downgrade you just mentioned. It’s a more of a dismissal than anything else, but it’s there all the same. They’re horrified that I fooled them for so long, and suddenly they see the truth. And as for the lust, let’s just say that comes with its own complications.”
“There’s no middle ground?” Raj asked. “What about your husband. What does he see?”
“Henry is a special case. Why do you think I married him? But also, he’s known me since I was nineteen. It’s one thing to be in college and look young. It was more manageable back then, for both of us I think. But at forty? It’s a different game.”
“Which do you prefer? The lust or the horror?”
“I can’t answer that.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m a multifaceted kind of guy. I suspect I could feel a whole bunch of things all at the same time, but I’m also perfectly capable of keeping my thoughts to myself. You’re a beautiful woman and I’d love to paint you. It’s not about anything else.”
Alice stepped forward once more, and this time moved closer to him. There was a warm breeze blowing through the screen, and the sun still lingered on his left side, splitting him in half perfectly. Standing directly in front of him, she looked him up and down as he did the same thing to her. Toying with the straps to her sun dress, Alice was unsure of what she wanted. And there was something glorious about that. Confusion, desire, and fear all mixed together into a delicious cocktail.
“If I took this off…” she began, letting the straps slide off her shoulders. He eyed her carefully, curiosity thick on his brow, even when she stopped before revealing too much. He shivered in the sun, and then strangely shifted his pose for just a moment. As she stood in front of him, her clothes clinging to her skin, she watched as he began to grow hard in front of her. He stopped moving, and with a sigh, simply stood still as the blood slowly filled his cock until he was fully erect. His breath was quick, but he said nothing.
Alice walked backward to her canvas and began to paint once more. The silence filled the air between them, and sweat coated their skin. She could feel the perspiration between her breasts and see it glistening on his body. Her hand moved quicker and quicker, unwilling to let the moment pass. She had rarely seen a model react this way before, and there was something pleasant about painting a man in a state of arousal. Each time she looked back at him she expected it to retreat, and yet there he remained, naked and hard in front of her. It was close to ten minutes before she put her brush down, her painting finished before her, less clear, more alive, and strangely more beautiful than anything she had done in a very long time.
“You can rest,” she said.
“That’s never happened before,” he said, picking up his towel and swinging it over his shoulder. He never bothered with a suit, and most often went from posing directly into the pool. It would have been foolish to dress, but now, even as he slowly began to grow soft, it was awkward to say the last.
“It’s not a big deal,” she said, hoping she hadn’t ruined anything.
“I suppose we know how I’d respond,” he said, stepping closer to her.
“How do you mean?”
“If you undressed for me,” he said in nearly a whisper. “If that was just a strap off your shoulder, I can’t imagine what would have happened if you had taken it all the way off.”
“It might be hard to paint that way,” she said looking down. He grinned as he pushed past her.
“I’d manage,” he said before walking to the edge of the pool. He looked back at her once more before diving in, his less than graceful splash soaking the concrete with heavy drops. Alice stood for a long time watching him swim, finding his movement just as beautiful as his stillness. She wondered how much of his reaction had been watching her or imaging something else. Not someone else, but possibly the follow through and then some. How much of his response was a fantasy to which she had no access?
Leaning against the door frame, she stared at him. It was easy to get involved in other people’s reactions to her, but it was sometimes still a challenge for Alice to figure out what she wanted. Watching him swim stirred her thoughts, though, and when she looked back at her painting, his cock blatantly erect, it stirred her even more. She closed her eyes and let it all come for just a moment. His hands, his mouth, his lips, they all played their role. And with her eyes glued to the painting, she carefully lifted her dress and slipped one hand inside her underwear. Staring at him, nude and excited on the canvas, she slipped one finger inside herself, instantly feeling the wetness she knew had been there all morning.
This was one canvas she was not going to paint over.