The Art Subject

"You wanna what??"

"You heard me, I want to paint you."

"I think you got it backwards, babe. You see, I'm the 'not bad looking at best' one while you've got the supermodel looks. You'd be on the wrong side of the canvas."

"You're sweet, but I don't think so, something tells me you paint about as well as you dance."

"That was a low blow."

"So are you game, then?"

"Won't we just be reenacting some goofy Titanic scene?"

"We're not going to hit an iceberg, and besides, you don't look anything like Kate Winslett. But, if you don't want to do it…"

"OK, OK." That whole "if you don't want to" thing always works on me! "Where do I pose?"

"Hold on. Need to go get my stuff. Just wait here."

Who knew? One minute I'm dropping off a DVD to my buddy Lelanni's house and the next minute I'm a subject for her art class.

Hmmm, thought she'd want a good grade.

Lelanni. You know, she has a last name, but most people can't ever remember it. Her name's taken on a kind of Madonna/Bono/Prince/Brazilian soccer player quality. I mean, how many Lelanni's do you know, anyway? Lelanni's pretty popular here on campus, and not just because of her name. She's drop dead gorgeous, you see, and the funny thing, I don't think she really knows it. I was always convinced every woman on the planet knew how pretty (or not) they were, but it's always seemed to me that Lelanni was flat oblivious to how lovely she really was.

Where do I start? Was it the look in her dark, mysterious eyes? Maybe it was the fullness in her thick jet black hair that begged for my fingers to run through (Then again, maybe it was my fingers doing the begging!) Or maybe, it was her silky, dark skin that I longed to press against mine! When I first saw Lelanni at a wedding six months ago it was all those qualities, at first. Took me an hour to work up the nerve to speak with her, but when I finally did, I realized how approachable she was.

"Hi, I'm Steve."

You see, it took me that full hour to come up with that!

"Well, hello there, I'm Lelanni." She returned my greeting with a warm, enthusiastic smile, no doubt caught up in the gaitey of the festivities and NOT from anything clever I had just said.

OK, where to go from here?

"I noticed you out there dancing before, and I just wanted to say how beautiful I thought you were."

Direct approach never hurts, I'd supposed.

"Why, thank you, you're very sweet."

Hmmm, "sweet" wasn't what I was really looking for, you know, with "sweet" being the harbinger to "you're just like a brother to me", but at least she's not blowing me off.

"I don't know you. And I know just about everybody here."

"Well, I was in the same…"

"OH. MY. GOD. Let me guess. You read about the wedding in the paper, right?"

"No, I…"

"You're totally crashing this wedding, aren't you?"

"No, no!, let me…"

"Let me see your invitation!"

Dumbstuck, I reached into my coat pocket, like a total geek I actually did have my invitation with me.

"Put it away, god, I'm just messin' with you. Had you going now, didn't I?" Had me going she did, but I found myself unable to stop looking at her eyes as they twinkled with delight. I felt a goofy grin spread across my face, you know, the kind you get when you instantly hit if off with someone. "Oh, I totally love this song, dance with me, please!" she said to me.

Dance with me. The three most dreaded words six-foot five inch white guys hate to hear. Even when they come out of the mouth of a gorgeous female. My eyes turned to Lelanni's hips as they began to sway to the sassy salsa music. I didn't know the song but Lelanni was already singing to it. The flutter in my stomach and hot rush down to my ankles suggested something between giddy excitement and sheer terror as I felt Lelanni take me by the hand and lead me to the dance floor.

"I don't really know how to dance. Like at ALL!"

"Don't worry. Just follow my lead, you'll be fine. Relax."

Relax. Oh, OK. No prob.

I tried to remind myself not to bite my lower lip like all the other tall white guys out there. Every ounce of Lelanni's body fell into the rhythm of the music as her hips, her arms, her dark hair all absorbed the Latin beat.

I, on the other hand, had to make the conscious decision to begin dancing, not sure quite what to do first. I felt the cold beads of sweat start to run down my back anticipating the humiliation. At least I was out there with the hottest girl in the room.

"Like this," she said, trying to encourage me. Lelanni's body was made to move to this music. Mine wasn't. It was easier said than done to get my body to move "like this". While I tried to be a good pupil and a good sport, Lelanni saw I had all the dance prowess of Young Frankenstein moving to

Puttin' on the Ritz.

My foot crashing down on hers once (

OK, twice

) didn't help matters, either. But it seemed it was just the dancing me she was giving up on. "Let's go get a drink, I'm pretty parched," she said, mercifully ending my brief stay on the dance floor.

While I'm sure Lelanni did know most of the people at the wedding (turns out the bride was a relative of hers), we wound up talking through most of the reception. Thoughts of "scoring" with her went out of my mind rather quickly, you know, no goofy lines like "I'm a much better horizontal dancer than a vertical one!" Even though it was true! Not that I'm that great a lover, just a totally crap dancer!

We seemed to forge a quick friendship after the wedding, me and Lelanni, which was great since we went to the same school. How I'd missed her on campus before was beyond me. We'd spend a great deal of time together. Liked a lot of the same movies, and music, too. But while she was the fine arts major, I continued struggling through proofs and theorems in the math department.

My time with Lelanni was a nice diversion. Found myself learning the fine points of painting—the stuff Lelanni did was just beautiful—I'd never appreciated what went into it before. Heck, I thought people painted naked people just for the thrill. And while dancing was her other passion, I never did get another dance lesson. She knew I was hopeless!

So, what to do with myself as Lelanni goes to get her painting "stuff"? Well, I guess I'd better undress, god this is embarrassing.

Once naked, I found a small white washcloth that had been lying around. Don't know why it was there and wasn't about to ask. I was grateful for the "Me, Tarzan" look my makeshift loincloth was creating.

Though I wasn't quite sure where to sit, or even HOW to sit, this was about as comfortable as the time between when the nurse tells you to disrobe and you're sitting on the cold examining table with nothing but a paper gown, and the time the doctor comes in to do whatever it is he needs to do. After all, how's a guy supposed to look nonchalant when he's naked, sitting in a chair, with nothing but a washcloth-turned-loincloth to conceal his emerging hardon; needless to say, there was something erotic about a beautiful girl wanting to paint you naked.

"Steve, what the HELL are you doing?" Lelanni's exclamation quickly brought me out of my wandering thoughts. I hadn't even heard the door open, but I did hear her reaction to what she saw. That and the sound of the easel falling through her hands and onto the carpet.

"Well, not like this isn't embarrassing or anything, Lelanni. I was just getting myself prepared for..." As I scrambled for more cover, the washcloth dropped to the floor, exposing my, errr, excitement over an impending gonna-get-painted-while-naked-by-a-beautiful-woman experience.

"…for WHAT?!? You're…God, cover yourself up!" Lelanni was protesting but not exactly looking away. "I wanted to paint your face for cryin' out loud."

"But I thought you only did nudes. Mighta helped if you'd told me."

"Well, I didn't think you were just gonna strip on me. You gonna at least put your pants on?"

"Yeah, sure." Somewhat humiliated and red-faced, I wriggled back into my pants, now a bit tight thanks to my erection, which, despite my embarrassment belied some of my latent feelings for Lelanni. She quickly gathered up her easel and watercolors, and we were soon in business.

I couldn't quite figure out the impish smile that spread across Lelanni's lovely face as she made her brushstrokes. Nor could I figure out how to make myself comfortable. Posing. Hardon. Embarrassment.

Like being back in the waiting room. Where was the year-old Newsweek to complete the effect?

"Just sit back in the chair and relax," said the grinning Lelanni. "You're making this a lot harder than it needs to be."

"Don't I need to sit still?"

"No, you're fine."

I felt my body finally start to feel a bit more at ease, except where my boner was angrily protesting the rough fabric on the inside of my jeans. "Well, let me come take a look then."

Lelanni's face become ashen, no easy trick given her dark complexion. "No!" she protested, perhaps a bit more emphatically than I might've expected. "Just sit there, I should be done in a sec." Back came the impish grin.

"There." she finally said after a moment or two. "Not sure I'm ready for you to see this."

She slithered over to me, touching me slightly like no other touch I'd felt from my friend, as if an electric current had shot out from the tips of her fingers. "Come over," she continued.

I swallowed the golf ball that had mysteriously lodged in my throat.

How'd that get there?

What's suddenly so dramatic about a painting of my face?

Well, nothing, if it

had

been a painting of my face. While not the "actual size", filling up the canvas was my cock, upright and staring back at me in all its glory.

'Ten hut, Sparky!

"I think this explains your silly-ass grin," I said, now trying to keep from laughing myself. "Just what possessed you, anyway?"

"After I caught glimspse of it I, uh, changed my mind. Girl's right, you know. To be honest, I've thought about it quite a bit lately, especially after that chilly night we were cuddled under that blanket watching

Notting Hill

." She paused a moment, and stared right through me. "Steve, how come you've never made a move on me?"

I swallowed another golf ball, trying to believe what I was hearing. "I just thought, gosh, I don't know, you were out of my league."

"Uh huh."

"Besides, you just kept bitching about how much you don't like Hugh Grant."

"Maybe I didn't care about watching the movie? Ever think of that?"

"Well, no, I just…"

"And how often do you hear me talk about other guys?"

"Never, but I thought it was none…"

"And who do I spend most of my free time with?"

"Well that would be me."

"And why do you think that is?" she asked, not waiting for an answer. I was speechless anyway. "So, when I saw you a) naked and b) not about to make a move despite BEING naked, I guess it was time to let you know how I felt."

"But why?"

"Are you fishing?" She smiled at me. This time she was the one being sweet. "Don't sell yourself so short. Yeah, you're a good-looking guy, but you're more attractive the more I know you. You listen to me, you care about me as a person. You don't treat me like some two-dimensional object. You're funny. Need I go on?"

"You blow me away, Lelanni. I think you know how I feel about you."

"Well, why don't you tell me?"

"Lelanni, these last six months have meant the world to me. I mean, we're friends, yeah, but you've always been the most beautiful woman, ummm, person, I've ever known, inside and out."

"I know you hate the word 'sweet', but those were the sweetest words I've heard in some time." As she stepped closer to me, my body shivered in anticipation as her hands clasped around the back of my neck, of feeling the fullness of those lips press against mine.

Our first kiss was soft and lingering, the moment was swollen with emotion: happiness, excitement, and anticipation, not just of what was likely about to happen, but how our friendship was about to change.

"I think I'm being a bit unfair," Lelanni said, her impish smile returning. "You seem to be wearing far less clothes than I am."

This was a lead I think I'd be able to take. "Yeah, but it would be even less had you not been so HORRIFIED!" I quickly disposed of my jeans yet again, and was totally naked as Lelanni pulled off her top. I helped unhook her bra to reveal her breasts, her nipples dark, large, and longing to be sucked, which I for so long had wanted to press against me. I finally got my wish, kissing the beautiful Lelanni more deeply, groping her ass as she unbuckled her short shorts.

She guided me backwards into the reclining chair, suddenly much more comfortable now that I wasn't posing, allowing her shorts to drop to the ground. Her body melted into mine as we continued to kiss, our arms wrapped around one another, releasing our pent up passion for one another.

"I want to taste you," I told her, taking some semblance of the lead with my new "dance" partner. As I pulled off Lelanni's yellow thong panties, I gazed at her luscious pussy, now gleaming with excitement as my tongue slowly flecked the inside of her silky thighs. Her hands on the top of the chair balanced her, as I probed her with my tongue and my kisses, relishing in her delight. I wanted to please her so badly.

"I'm about to come, yes, Steve. Oh, I want you inside me now." I wanted to make her delirious, continuing to massage her clit was my nose as I continued to tongue-fuck her pussy. Her nipples were now rock hard and she let out a soft moan.

I grabbed her by the hips as she grabbed my cock, guiding into her welcoming pussy. Now face-to-face, I kissed her deeply as we rocked in a perfect rhythm. She buried her face into my shoulder, letting out a small scream and biting my neck.

"I'm sorry!" she said, a bit embarrassed. "I hope I didn't draw blood."

"I hope you did, Miss Vampire! Do you like getting wildly fucked?" Our eyes were shut in intense pleasure and emotion as we continued to rock together. My mind wandered briefly to that first salsa song we danced to, or at least tried to.

"What are you laughing about?" she asked me. I was unaware I was giggling a little. "Am I making a funny 'I'm-being-wildly-screwed' face?"

"No, babe, it's just, we seem to be doing a lot better than we did on the dance floor."

"Don't blame me." Lelanni was laughing, too. "But I agree, this seems to be more your forte."

"Our forte, babe."

We began rocking more rapidly, our bodies tensing in impending orgasm. Funny how making silly cracks made our lovemaking so intense. We were so past "gotta get to know each other" so we didn't feel awkward as could be with the "first time". I felt my cock twitch, and my body shuddered as I exploded inside Lelanni. The feel of my semen shooting inside her sent her over the edge, as Lelanni stifled a scream by covering her mouth.

"Go ahead and scream, babe. You've already bitten me, after all. Smitten me, too, while we're at it."

"Why did we wait so long, Steve?", she finally said, breathlessly, her body continuing to quiver. She pounded playfully on my chest. "I TOLD you you should have made a move on my earlier."

"I won't miss the opportunity again."

"Promise?"

"You got it. I've never been with a friend before. I've heard best friends make the best lovers. Hey, you wanna dance naked?"

"No, not 'til we send you to Arthur Murray. Sit tight. I still need to paint your face."

"Now?"

"Yes, now. Ever been painted by a beautiful naked artist?"

"No, just a beautiful one. But I've a feeling I'm about to be."

What should have taken Lelanni half an hour or so wound up taking the entire night. We took more than the usual number of breaks from the painting. Her portrait of me was quite flattering, though as good as it was, was far less memorable than the interruptions. I was right when I said friends made the best lovers, and I felt so grateful I'd found this gem of a person to be in my life.