Anything For Him. Lily Harlem
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right to make my picture the masterpiece I wanted it to be.
What would that part of his flesh taste like on the tip of my tongue?
My brush was an extension of my mind, my memory and my lust. High on creativity and spurred on by the image unravelling, I added a low-slung waistband. I’d seen him wearing worn jeans – he’d looked dishevelled but at the same time comfortable in his own skin. An intoxicating mix of self-assured sexuality.
Again I paused.
Stepped back.
I shook my head, tutted, and tried to ignore the dampness between my legs as my plan formed.
Bypassing the first part of clothing I’d begun to draw, I continued downwards, flared the outline slightly at his hips and sketched out muscular thighs. The jeans were no longer part of my image. I wanted him as naked as me.
When I reached the knees I concentrated higher again, adding in the smooth balls of his shoulders and powerful arms hanging at his sides. I was completely lost in my task. My mobile rang and I ignored it. A siren screamed on the road below and I took no notice. My limbs felt free, and my skin buzzed as my swift movements caused air to breeze over it. All that existed was myself and the image of Liuz I was creating. An image that surpassed the photo I had hanging in the room, because it included his face – because soon it would include his cock.
His face was my next stage. With a smaller brush I created a proud nose and eyes that held a lazy, devil-may-care look, the visible lids a fraction big, the brows craggy. His mouth was a severe slash, a bit like when he had shouted at me. It was how I wanted it. I didn’t want Liuz smiling. I wanted him stern, commanding. A force to be reckoned with.
I squelched out more paint, not caring about the amount I was using. It was worth it. My stomach growled with hunger and I set about sketching his flopping tendrils of hair. My strokes were thick and heavy, the black paint shiny and textured. Carefully, holding my breath, I swirled a strand over his right eye so that it hung in front as I’d seen it do in his room.
Stepping backwards, I surveyed the effect.
Perfect.
I added the hint of an ear. My laptop tinkled to tell me mail had arrived.
Instantly, I was distracted from my fake Liuz to what could possibly be the real thing. Balancing my brush by the paints, I wiped a caked blob of black from my index finger onto my stomach and brought my screen to life.
I was not disappointed.
‘Are you there, Aniolku?’
I whipped my messy fingers over the keyboard. ‘Sure, been in all day. Waiting for you to say hi.’
That should cover my tail.
There was a several-minute pause. I sipped nervously on my wine and shoved Simply Red into the CD player. Mick’s dulcet tones filled my study.
‘You said you were going out to cover a premiere in Leicester Square.’
‘I was, but I got involved in a project about Uganda’s fair trade imports and lost track of time.’
‘Do you do that often?’
‘What?’
‘Lose track of time?’
‘Yes, when I’m working.’
And when I’m painting full-size naked men on my wall.
‘And you have been working all day?’
A tingle ran up my spine at the undercurrent of the question. Did he suspect? ‘Yes, busy, busy, busy, got to pay the bills. What about you? Have you had any sexy thoughts about me?’ I reached for my wine.
‘I did, sort of. I was looking at a website about female ejaculation and wondering if you were a spurter when a weird thing happened. This woman appeared at my window, staring in at me, even though it was starting to rain.’
Wine burned the back of my throat. I inhaled but no air went in. With my fist I thumped my chest and eventually dislodged the offending dribble of Merlot. I spluttered and coughed, wheezed and gasped. Finally, breath returned and I re-read his last words.
A woman appeared at my window.
There was no doubt about it. Not now. Today Liuz and I had met. Breathed the same air, walked the same path, connected our eyes in a glorious moment of two fates colliding. But it had all happened so fast and I hadn’t been the woman I wanted to be.
I sat my bare ass on the chair and willed sane thoughts. I had to play it cool. There was no way in hell I was going to let him know that had been me studying him as the rain began to pour, balancing in a very unladylike way on his shrubbery and looking through his window like some crazy Peeping Tom.
‘That’s odd,’ I replied. ‘Did you know her?’
‘No, I had never seen her before. But she looked at me as though she recognised my face.’
‘That is strange. Then what happened?’
‘She ran off, towards the High Street.’
‘Didn’t you chase her? Find out what she wanted?’
Thank goodness he hadn’t.
‘No, I was only half dressed, couldn’t be bothered.’
‘Why were you only half dressed? Been jerking off again?’
Change the subject.
‘No, not today. I was just hot, must have been the humidity before the storm. I might jerk off later, though, thinking of you, thinking of fucking you, from behind, my hands in your hair, pulling your head up to the ceiling so that your spine feels like it will snap under the force of my thrusts.’
‘Sounds like a plan.’ My pussy clenched at the image of my back bowed by the severity of his tight grip on me. I loved it when he put images into words like that.
‘I can imagine how your pussy would feel on my cock, but what about your hair, how would that feel in my hands, Aniolku?’
Ah, I knew what he was doing. I wasn’t a journalist for nothing. Probing questions were my business. ‘Why?’
‘I need to know so I can build up the picture in my head.’
I pulled at my long blonde ponytail. A stab of regret tugged my heart. It would have to go. It was exactly the same as the woman who’d looked through his window this afternoon. ‘It’s black, and barely enough to sink your hands into. It’s short and spiky.’ As I spoke I reached for a pair of scissors from my pen pot. Letting my hair loose, I gulped the rest of my wine then began to cut.
‘I love black hair,’ he responded. ‘Short black hair I can grab and pull by the roots. I want to hold your head firm, your ass firmer as I fuck you.’
Shivering with desire, I glanced at my feet. They were splattered with dark paint and each slice of the scissor blades delivered a new creamy tendril to the floor around them. As I watched, several thick strands landed over my toes. On the rise of my left foot, an exceptionally long piece fell and balanced.
‘Would you like me to fuck your pussy from behind?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘I think you would do it good.’
‘It’s more than that.’
‘It is?’
‘Yeah, I know you by now, Hannah. You’re a slut, a dirty bitch. You would like me fucking you from behind because then it’s impersonal. I could be anyone taking you hard and fast, using your body to get my release and satisfy my big, fat dick.’
OK, that was it, the time had come. I’d had enough of skirting around the main event. I knew what Liuz looked like and I was more attracted to him than I could have ever dared hope. If we didn’t move this on soon