I show up to her loft at 9:09. She's not expecting me, said she had to work, but it's been three days since I've seen her, tasted her. I can smell the paint fumes through the heavy door. I pound twice hoping she'll hear me over the loud rage music blasting through her speakers. She doesn't answer so I pound again, this time harder. "Mel!" I yell. "Open up. It's me."
She opens the door and asks, "What are you doing here?" Her cheeks flush. "I'm a mess," she says playing with the unkempt bun on top of her head. She's not a mess. She's beautiful in her wife beater, her nipples hard underneath, and ragged cut-off shorts that seem two sizes too big. They rest low on her hips and one slight tug would reveal her pretty little pussy. I reach to her face to rub the smudge of paint off her cheek. It's already dry so it remains. "Seriously what are you doing here?" She asks again.
"I haven't seen you in a few days. I miss you." And I sincerely do. Her long legs wrapped around my body, her perfect tits in my face, pulling her hair and smacking her ass.
"I told you I needed to get this painting done," she sounds irritated.
"Well, can I come in for a bit, give you a break?"
She sighs and steps to the side so I can enter the loft.
"Can I see what you're working on?" I ask as I brush by her, just close enough to feel the fullness of her tit.
She grabs my wrist and pulls me to a giant canvas flat on the floor. "Wow," I say, studying the beautiful chaos she's created.
"I'm experimenting with splatter and drip per my client's request," she says staring at the canvas. "What do you think of the colors?"