The thick gray water slipped through his fingers, sliding over his wrists to cascade from his forearms, puddling at his feet as he worked. The day had long since given way to dusk followed closely by a moonless night. Despite this he continued working, his hands molding the shape and contour of a woman's form.
Samuel leaned back groaning slightly, the muscles tightening at the sudden movement. Brushing the hair from his forehead with his arm he closed his eyes. He knew it was late yet he was amazingly not tired, even after working like a mad man for two days. He'd gone to his art supplier yesterday morning checking to make sure the order was accurate, the clay the perfect quality he wanted for this piece. Satisfied he'd gone back home, waiting and preparing his studio so he could begin working immediately.
Faith watched, her eyes following his movements. She smiled seeing the glistening sweat covering his shoulders, blowing lightly the curtains billowed filling the room with a cooling breeze. She heart raced and her thundering pulse reached her ears when she watched his lips curl in appreciation of her cooling breath. Perched on the windowsill her knees drawn up under her chin, she watched his hands manipulating the soft clay, molding and creating the image she'd placed in his mind.
Opening his eyes he looked toward the window, seeing only the curtains fluttering in the breeze, the stark white of the fabric a dramatic contrast against the dark sky. Laughing he shook his head finding his hand caressing a slender arm he'd just sculpted. Leaning down he wet his hands before touching the firming substance, his fingers instinctively creating contoured muscles that gave the figure tone and shape his mind told him was required.
Samuel for the first time marveled at his work. He'd done no sketching beforehand at all, he felt no need to, he knew what it was he intended when he touched the cool firm substance for the first time.
He had watched while his hands built the form, his instincts true and precise. The shape began simply, the form of a woman sitting, back arched, arms braced behind her, head thrown back, one leg bent slightly and raised. The now subtle thighs parted, the form had the grace of innocence and the sensuality of a temptress.
Faith stepped behind him her presence felt only as a soft shift in the breeze. She felt a tightening in her stomach seeing his hands dripping the life giving water down over the thirsty clay. Reaching forward she gently placed her hands on the back of his following as they moved over the form she would soon take.
Smiling softly he watched his hands slip over the tender cords along the front of the throat. Stopping he felt a tingle surge through his hands as it had done from time to time while he worked, the touch exciting yet fleeting, electric yet subtle. Closing his eyes he concentrated on the sensation, he was startled when he imagined the flutter of another pulse beating in rhythm with his. Looking down he saw his fingers slipping over firming clay breasts topped with erect nipples that seemed to beg for his touch. Circling the nipple he thrilled at the perfection he'd created, the textured areola so hauntingly real.
Her silent gasp jolted her; she imagined his touch covering her body and not that of the clay form. Smiling she saw his reaction when her pulse beat along side his for a moment, the sound of the combined rhythm thundering in her ears. Looking down at him, his eyes again closed, his hands running gently over the clay as though he were a blind man testing the contours and creating a mental image deep within his mind.
Faith remembered when she'd first seen him. She had sensed his presence around her before actually seeing him. The warmth of him and the smell of him had assaulted her senses, surrounding her, making it impossible for her to resist the need to find its source. Before she could rise from the soft mossy ground under the oak tree she saw him. He was walking quietly down the path, absently stopping to look around without seeing. She felt his thoughts, marveled at his ability of reason. He had stopped directly in front of her she saw his attention shift when she stood. He couldn't see her she knew this, but her movements had filled the air with the heavy scent of moss and the crisp acidic scent of fallen leaves. When he turned, continuing down the path she waited for a moment before giving in to her building desire to follow him.
She smiled remembering the nights she sat beside him while he slept, reading his dreams laughing at some, crying at others. Unable to resist any longer she'd reached out one night caressing his brow, at her touch his thoughts faltered, she knew he'd felt her, as she continued his thoughts became hers and hers became his. Never having used her abilities for her own gain before, this time she was driven by need and desire. For the first time she found she actually wanted, no needed someone to know of her, to experience her as she experienced others.
Samuel opened his eyes watching his hands trying to physically see the glowing surge he felt traveling along his skin. His nostrils flared when he caught the scent of lavender and mossy warmth. The first time this had happened he had been confused, but had grown accustomed to its presence over the past few weeks. The scent was pure and earthy, sensual to him.
