Painted

The corners of Bryan's mouth hurt from laughing so hard but his face turned dead-serious. The bartender had begun counting out the till. Her intelligence, warmth, and humor sparkled. They clicked. Closing time, time to take a chance. It was now or never.

"Let me paint you," said Bryan.

Lisa startled from the change in his tone. She cocked her head to one side and studied Bryan's face. He seemed nervous. "Like a portrait?" she asked.

"Not exactly," said Bryan. His face flushed.

"Oh, you want me to pose nude," said Lisa, a devilish smile returning to her face.

"No," said Bryan shaking his head and looking at the table. Then he searched her eyes in earnest. "I want to..." he glanced down briefly again and then back at her with renewed courage, "Paint. You."

Lisa stared at Bryan with an intensity that made him shift in his seat.

She leaned forward crackling like the air before a lightning strike. "Let's go."

They climbed the five flights to his studio apartment. Despite having talked and laughed for the past five hours, Bryan hadn't thought of a thing to say as they walked through the quiet streets of the Bowery. Not even the bodegas were open anymore. Only street sweepers and garbage trucks rumbled by. Lisa seemed to savor the sleeping city. She'd told him it was her favorite time of night. 'The bubble' she called it.

Bryan fumbled with the keys and they entered the messy studio. Paint cans lay strewn about, canvases, brushes and empty buckets cluttered the small room.

"I think you have a LaCroix problem you didn't tell me about," said Lisa picking up half-drank can of lime seltzer. "How can I trust you?" She laughed and tossed it aside.

"I'm sorry I should keep it tidier." He immediately busied himself preparing brushes and paint, worried she might back out. "These are body paints," he said holding up a jar for her to see.

Lisa watched him with curiosity. He'd turned very quiet and serious. "How do you want me?" she said kicking off her shoes.

Bryan turned in haste and bumped into her. He paused, gazing down at her. Without her heels on, she was much shorter than him, only 5'5' he guessed. Her frame was petite, she wasn't thin though. Or fat. Just normal. But heat radiated off her body in a manner far from ordinary, more than alive, buzzing with energy. She stood, well, too close. His mouth went dry. "Um, you can undress back there." He pointed to the back of the studio where his bed lay behind a folding screen.

She gave him a wry smile and disappeared.

When she returned he had turned on bright lights. Modeling lights flatter no one. Shadows emphasize every fold and crease. No pore or goosebump can hide. She had razor burn on her legs and hadn't shaved her armpits in a few days. Bryan didn't care. It wasn't her body he hoped to capture.

Lisa stood at ease in front of Bryan and watched him study her, turn her carefully, and decide where to start. She marveled at his focus. He wasn't aroused but absorbed. An enormous canvas lay on the floor.

Bryan selected a scarlet color to start. He brushed broad circular strokes across her buttocks.

Lisa giggled. "That tickles." She looked over her shoulder where Bryan knelt behind her. Their eyes met. "Sorry," she said and turned forward.

Bryan added some dark blue. He paused satisfied. "Sit," he commanded guiding her hips to a spot on the right side of the canvas. Lisa obeyed. Then he started on her left flank with scalloping strokes of green and yellow. "Lie down," he said.