Convergence

She tapped her pen on her desktop for just a few seconds, then twirled the blunt tip against her lips for a moment. A slow smile spread over her face. Heading out of the office, she lets her assistant know she's going to be taking a long lunch. She leaves the gallery and it's only a short drive to her destination. She smooths down her skirt and raps shortly on the door.

The door opened and a man leans against the frame, holding the door braced against one arm. "Staccato, had to be you."

She smiles sweetly.

He smiles sweetly back.

She pouts. "Aren't you going to let me in?"

He shakes his dark head once, but his expression is teasing. "No. Mara, I'm busy."

She leans in and licks the line of his collarbone. "I promise to make this short. Staccato, even."

He pushes away from the doorframe, and swings the door as if to close it behind him, but she ducks in quickly and skips lightly behind him. She asks "What's got you so busy that you don't have time for me?"

"This is my studio. I paint. Do you notice the faint smell of...paint? And the splashes of...paint...everywhere?"

"Dev, you don't say. What are you painting?"

He turns and walks backward to the pace of her skipping. "Something I'm not showing you."

She stops and the pout is back. "You're mean. And here I am a patron of the arts."

He snorts and turns to walk away, to a broad side table where he continues what he was doing before she knocked, cleaning his brushes.

She hops up on the edge of the table and dangles her feet over the edge. "You look good. You should be wearing a puffy shirt and leather breeches. Will you get a puffy shirt and leather breeches for me?"

He smiles and shakes his head "Sure, when you break out the construction worker outfit."

She brightens "Do I get a jackhammer? I know. Just the boots and the hard hat. I can borrow your jackhammer in a pinch."

"Lady, you're not pinching my jackhammer. There are penalties."

Her legs slide open and her hands come down on the edge of the table, rocking back and forth. "How 'bout just a vise?"

He puts down his brush and points at her skirt. "That. Is distracting."

She smiles and leans back, pulling her skirt hem up and splaying her hands across her thighs. "Damn. I'm sorry. I hate to interrupt you while your working. Don't mind me."

His expression alters and he says "Mara. My wife...you know she usually works this time of day, but she could be back at any minute."

She gasps softly. "The wife. Oh no. Well, you'd better hurry then. I don't want to compromise your artistic integrity. I just want to fuck you, okay?"

He nods sagely. "So it's just physical. No attachment whatsoever."

She holds out her hand to shake his "It's a deal."

He holds out his hand to shake hers, grasping it and stepping closer, pulling her off balance and onto his chest, tipped forward on the table. His hand slides under her skirt and his fingers stroke along the outside of her panties, teasing at the edges and drawing a damp mesmerizing line up and down slowly. Her head tips back and her hair falls down her back free, caressing the skin on her back, she tilts her head back and forth to slide it over her shoulders.

His hand reaches over to a wide brush and he dips it in red paint, trailing it up her knee and along her thigh in a swirl. Leaning forward to kiss her, his hand continues to caress her and he whispers "Just physical. Only paint."

After a slight gasp at the cold liquid on her skin, she bites her lip and nods. He smiles and dips the brush again, drawing a circle around her kneecap and trailing it up her thigh in a scarlet trail. His hands follow along the trails on both thighs and leave wide smears, cooling after his hands pass. Reaching over to his tools again he slides a razor knife over and lengthens it a few clicks.

Her eyes fly open and she looks at the gleaming metal quizzically.

He answers softly. "Just physical. Only a dress."

She shudders a little as the metal slides underneath the sides of her panties and cleanly slices through. Sliding the blade up along the inside of her dress, he pulls down at the neckline and slits her dress down slowly, holding her startled eyes with his own. "Don't move, honey. I wouldn't want to cut you."

Sliding the blade under the front of her bra, he makes one more slow saw motion and then spreads her clothes apart, reaching again for the wet paintbrush after sliding the blade back into the grip and putting it away. She tries to lean up on her elbows, but he pushes her down with one hand in the center of her chest with a wicked little smile. She resists briefly, but doesn't last long before she's splayed back on the table. He nods and surveys her body. "Better. There are sacrifices we must make for art."

Starting at her knees, he slides his palms along her thighs again, gathering the paint in his hands and sliding his thumbs to the side to keep them clear of the pigment. He drags his hands in light swirls along her belly in feathering strokes, leading up to gathering the outside of her breasts in his full palms, leaving the marks of his hands along the outer curves before he releases them and draws back to survey her again. "Beautiful."

His thumbs trail along the inside of her thighs and one slides inside her body slowly, the other rotating slowly on her clit. His voice is soft "Now what was this about not feeling any attachment. Are you sure?"

She answers him with a soft groan and a twist to her hips.

"That's no answer. I don't want to tempt you. Do I?"

She swallows once and her head tilts back again as his thumbs caress her purposely to stave off any response other than from her body.

"Dev...Dev, please..."

"Please what, sweetness?" His mouth lowers to her clit and starts to caress in soft little strokes, both thumbs now moving down to penetrate her to the same rhythm as his mouth.

Soft moans and her calves pressing into his flanks guide her into a bucking orgasm against his mouth. He stands up and twists off his T-shirt over his head and then slowly unbuttons his jeans, shucking them and lifting her hands one by one and applying paint to the insides of her palms. "Your turn, sweetness. Finger painting."

He lifts her easily and slides hard into her suddenly, turning against a bare wall and slamming her up against it. Her hands come around to brace herself against his shoulders, leaving red handprints against his sweat-dappled skin. Opening her eyes she digs her fingernails in to leave little pale half moons in the paint, then drags her wet hands up his neck, to cradle his face and draw him closer for a kiss, biting ravenously at his lips. The tatters of her dress flutter and catch in the paint, leaving little grace notes of color over their skin.

"Mara. Mara. Tell me you love me." He grinds his hips into hers and suspends her pinned to the wall.

She grits her teeth and falls forward onto his shoulder, wrapping her thighs more tightly around his waist and bucking against him in response, but he presses her still to the wall until she speaks, pulling back from her and controlling her easily, kissing the side of her throat and whispering "Hm? Tell me Mara. Say it."

She leans forward and whispers in his ear "I love you, Dev. I love you. I love you...love you..." her voice trails off into soft breath on his ear and her teeth on his earlobe.

Satisfaction floods his features and he slams her back against the wall suddenly, gripping her ass in both hands to support her and move her where he wants, her arms and legs wrapped around him, clinging.

Orgasm grips him as a red flush edges the paint marks and he drives her against the wall to receive it, burying his head in her throat and biting down on her skin.

Wrung out, he lifts her up and slips the shreds of clothing off her, wrapping them both in terry cloth robes from the small adjoined shower and cradling her against him. When she seems ready, he puts her on her steadying feet and tilts his forehead into hers, kissing her gently. "Love you, Mara." He looks at them in a full-length mirror and says "Even though we look like...victims from an extremely bizarre incident." They're splattered and streaked with red paint, hair, skin, faces, hands. They both laugh.

She smiles, kisses him back and then looks at the clock and groans. "I really should go. I'll stop distracting you from your true calling. Your wife is one lucky lady." With a teasing smile she holds his hands in hers and starts to reluctantly trail off to take a shower.

Instead of letting her go, he takes her hand and leads her over to the canvas he was working on, kissing her on the top of the head as he presents it to her.

"It's finished. You are my true calling."

On the canvas is a painting of her, ethereal and lovingly picked out in his distinct brush strokes, holding a little boy in a bear hug. The little boy has Dev's eyes and her wild hair, tousled as he's pulled close to her.

"Dev, it's beautiful. I don't know how you do it." She reaches out and touches the frame. "It would sell in two seconds in the gallery." She sounds wistful.

"This one's for us. I'm not letting this one go."

She leans against him wrapped in the robe and he kisses the top of her head again, rumpling it and looping his arms around her shoulders.

"It's beautiful, I can't wait until the Munchkin sees it, he loves when you paint him."

"You'll pick him up at school?"

"Right after he gets out. I'll bring him over and we can celebrate your masterpiece."

"Okay. Don't tell him you're having an affair with his daddy. He's not ready for that yet."

"Of course not. He still thinks he's going to marry me some day. Kids DO grow out of this, right?"

Dev laughs. "Eventually. But don't break it to him just yet. Nobody wants to lose a beautiful dream. But nobody else gets to be married to you but me."