Existent

Tension

She was the first model I'd ever taken, to paint. She was deaf to my choice of language, and blind to my train of thought. 

So, I had to mold her, like a sculpture. Part by part. 

One afternoon, I wanted her legs to be a bit wider,

I went to move her knees apart with my hands, but my touch was clumsy,

and then, on a hunch, I touched the inside of her thigh, 

with the tip of my brush, where the skin is soft, warm

the lightest touch of bristled hair, 

she did not have to speak, quite frankly, neither did I,

her body was arching, 

 screaming Brush me again