Page 16 of Stone: The Precursor

I grin and pause the sounds of the voice actor groaning and grunting in my ear. “Historical Erotica.”

“Nice.” He puts a hand on his hip. He’s as messy as I am, covered in splotches of paint. He’s a fantastic oil painter. “Anyway, I’m out.” His tired, but happy face looks down at my current work in progress. His expression shows exactly what I want the viewer to see. Awe, fear, and lust. All the things I feel when I look at the planes ofhisface.Hiseyes. “I don’t know who the fuck he is, but I’d fuck him in an instant.”

I laugh and nod my head, staring at his features.“Me too.”

“Well as much as I’d love to stay and grill you about whoever the hell that tall drink of water is, I’m off. Dinner and a movie.”

“I thought you said it was dinner and sex?” I cross my arms, waiting to hear about his upcoming night. At least someone is getting some, and Barry gets plenty. Since I’ve known him, he’s told me most of his exploits. He loves to narrate as he paints, and I don’t mind. It makes creating art less lonely. His polyamorous lifestyle works for him, and he enjoys anyone and everyone he’s attracted to. His sexual freedom is fun to listen to, and I can live vicariously through his adventures.

“I thought so too, but he offered to bring his girlfriend along and she’s into movies.”

“What are you going to see?”

Billy’s shout of laughter confuses me until he shakes his head. “No. Not movies as in a movie theater. His girlfriend likesto film me fucking him. And then he films me fucking her and then I film them together. We watch the movies and go at it again. Fucking fantastic. The sex is always so good that when it’s over, I paint like a demon.”

Wow. Filming sex. I never would have thought that was what Barry meant. My brain can’t help but generate a fantasy of what it would be like to film myself having sex. Too bad the only man I can think of doing that with is covered in tattoos and has long since moved on from the pool party my brother threw two months ago. I have no clue where he is, and I will not answer my brother.

“Ooooh. Someone is fantasizing,” Barry murmurs, winking. “I’ll see you next week.”

His words bring me out of the daze I was just in. I blink away the remnants of Stone holding his cellphone over where his cock thrusts into my body. The kiss on my cheek comes swiftly as Barry drapes his bag over his shoulder and heads to the door.

“I’ll lock up since you’re here alone.”

“Thanks,” I mumble, hearing the front door shut and the twist of the lock.

Picking up my knife, I carefully and precisely add the thick oil paint to the canvas, sculpting the sharp curve of his jaw, adding more with increasing urgency, driven by the need to see his face appear, which in turn drives me to work faster. My fingers fly over the painting until I last pause and stand up, moving away. The image that formed is more than what I expected. Reds, blacks, and grays all blend to create a stunning portrait of the man who has held me hostage for weeks. The savagery and evil come through in his expression, but it’s really the cold, dark eyes that make me shiver, not with fear, but arousal. It’s the same way he looked at me when he came out of the bathroom. Like he wanted to hurt me in the best way. I step forward and touch the lush curve of his bottom lip. The one that I dream about licking,biting. My pussy throbs. I want to kiss him and feel him on top of me, but so far, all of my filthy, nasty thoughts have been with a phantom, because I haven’t seen him since.

Sighing, I set down my knife and step farther back. The painting is almost complete, and I want to add a few more details before it dries. Then, I’ll work on the wax and fabric pieces I want to include. The whole piece will take a few more weeks to finish, but I’m surprised at the volume of paintings I’ve been able to create since meeting Stone.

While the paint dries, I gather my tools and head to the sink to clean and wash everything. Good painting and palette knives aren’t cheap. My collection has grown since I started using them, and I can’t wait to explore each blade, discovering how to apply different mediums.

A giggle escapes when I think about telling my father that while I may not be using my skills to cut open a body for surgery, I am still using a knife. But I can picture his disgust, and my stomach clenches. He would probably look at me in disappointment. Drying my hands, I reach for my tube of hand oil and rub in the soothing lubricant to help alleviate the chafing on my fingers. After using paint and other mediums, the amount of hand-washing is excessive, and keeping my hands moisturized is essential.

Once I’ve cleaned up my space, I add the painting to the locker to dry. Each artist who rents the studio gets a small, 5x5 locker space to store drying canvases, ceramics, projects, etc. The height allows me to store art on longer canvases. But at the rate I’m painting, I’m going to need even more space. So far, I’ve created 12 pieces, and I’m itching to start on more. I’ve become obsessed with him, painting him over and over. He’s become a muse of sorts and wouldn’t he be shocked to discover that the sister of his friend as taken to sketching him, painting him, sculpting him over and over until my fingers cramp and still Igo home and masturbate to his image, slowly fucking myself to reveries of him watching me as I massage my clit or push my oversized dildo inside my pussy. Other times, I imagine him finding me painting him, and he fucks me from behind while the paintbrush is still in my hand, refusing to make me come until I finish the piece. The throbbing in me intensifies, and suddenly I’m eager to get back to my bedroom in Kingsley’s apartment, where I’ve been staying for the last two weeks.

A buzz on my phone pulls me out of the fantasy.

King: You sleeping over tonight?

Me: Of course!

King: I should charge you rent!

Me: You love me too much.

King: Don’t want to see shitface tonight?

Me: He’s never home, but being there feels weird.Especially cause I know he’s brought girls there.

King: Just move the fuck out. Get your shit and leave. Are you still paying half the rent?

Me:

King: I’m going to kick your ass. He cheated, and you’re still giving him a place to fuck his skanks?Girl, his dick wasn’t even that good. No reason to stick around.When are you moving?

Me: I know. Trust me, I know. I’m just waiting until our lease is up. Reed’s petty enough to come after me in court.

King: You do know that you’re filthy rich, right? Like Midas type rich? You can hire a bloodthirsty lawyer who will have him begging for mercy.