Single father series

Masterpiece

Not proofread! I apologise for any spelling/grammar mistakes. I will correct them as soon as I can. 

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This time there were no complications anywhere on the horizon. I must admit there was a slight fear something would make this impossible before it even started, like the first time. But, so far the only problem has been how to manage my current relationship, or whatever status we now have, with being a father. It's hard to handle it all so one thing had to suffer: my painting. During the last two months I haven't finished one painting. Work, a child and a lover... it occupies all of my time, but that's what I consider days well spent. Well, if you omit the work part. I am getting closer to opening my own designer agency and having more time for some serious art work, but until then I'll have to be satisfied with fast food fliers, boring wedding invitations and gym ads.

This weekend I arranged two days alone, so Désirée that we could have some time together that's not during Andrej's school when we have to synchronise our work breaks and meet for half an hour like teenager who have to lie to their parents that they're going to the library so they could meet their partner for a few minutes. Andrej'll be at Gemma's, and I was more than excited about our meeting.

She told me she was okay with me painting her and the sole idea of getting to transcript her body onto a canvas without having to use my memory had me over the Moon. Not only have my hands touched her but I'll have the opportunity to imprint it forever, to try to capture her beauty and free spirit with something as simple as paint. My happiness was definitely visible in my paintings as well as in life in general.

She was the one to bring the drawing up and I couldn't help the smile that grew wider. It's this indescribable feeling when your muse is willing to stay in front of you and let you take in every bit of her in your own artistic way. I wondered whether I was able to actually capture her beauty, to seize her as a whole. My lips were glued to hers as I guided her to the dim-lit atelier. I was ready to give her a pep talk and ease any possible discomfort or embarrassment she may feel but to my satisfaction and maybe even slight surprise the dress dropped down before I could blink twice.

"Where would work best?"

Her question echoed in my mind but somehow I couldn't comprehend it, I heard it but couldn't process it. Her body in dark red lace had my eyes open, not wanting to blink as if I'd miss something, a millimetre of her skin, the skin I've known for a few months, the skin that still had the same tempting aura, it still caused the same feeling of mesmerisation and lust pump through my body.

"The-there would be just fine," I swallowed hard.

Her smile was soon changed with a slight blush and a beat of her fuller bottom lip due to my prominent stare. It took me a bit to get out the, so called, artistic shock before getting to work. My hands worked delicately, not wanting to mess anything up, trying to pay justice to the person before me.

Hours later, when I was done I admired both the figure in front and the figure on the canvas; my eyes going back and forth looking for the flaws on my drawing. I don't recall the last time I was so nervous to show someone my work. Of course, the slight nervousness was always present before exhibitions but this was different. I've drawn other people, but it was usually for money or they were members of family. But this, this was different. The emotion involved in this was different than any before. I knew she was a fan of my work and I always had that thought in the back of my mind. It provided me with a satisfactory feeling that someone I like, someone I consider my newfound muse is an admirer of my work; that she has a certain feeling of respect for it, and that, along with the support of my family, made me so bloody proud.