Page 14 of A Little Merry

My heart was beating so fast, I thought I might pass out. I suddenly remembered what I saw on that canvas when I was a kid, and my eyes flooded.

“It was a painting of this very town, and I’d forgotten all about it, until this very moment. I couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven, a young girl, holding my mom’s hand. We were in some sort of art gallery or museum. I don’t even know where we were, exactly, but the scene was a Christmas town, complete with a town square… this town square, but how could that be? I grew up in the Midwest, and you grew up here.”

I felt the rush of tears trying to escape from my eyes now, and I did everything I could to hold them back.

“Fine,” he said. “But it’s impossible. No way could you have seen this painting. That would be some sort of magical coincidence that even I couldn’t explain.”

He stepped out of my way and walked over to the covered canvas. He hesitated for a moment, then slipped off the oilcloth that caused a layer of dust to float around him. All at once, I knew this wasn’t a work in progress, like he’d said. This was one of his first paintings… a painting he called trivial, that no one wanted to buy.

As soon as I saw the painting, I dropped to the floor, crossing my legs, and just stared up at the canvas.

It was theverypainting I’d seen when I was a young girl. The very painting of the town I wanted to live in when I grew up. The very town I’d just moved to.

“I painted it when I was seventeen. I was in art school in Chicago, a prodigy they said. My class had a showing at the Art Institute. It’s what got me a full scholarship.” He had his back towards me when he spoke.

I couldn’t stop my tears no matter how I tried. He turned to me, came over, sat next to me, and took me in his arms.

“It’s the painting that brought me here… brought me to you. It’s beautiful. It’s Christmas. My Christmas town. I found my magical Christmas town, the town you painted all those years ago and captured my imagination.”

We kissed again, only this time, it didn’t stop, and as we slid down on the oilcloth on the floor, I had visions of us rolling around on wet paint until our bodies were covered. I had a thought as we kissed and couldn’t seem to let it go.

“Do any of these paints wash off?” I asked as he slid his hungry mouth down my neck, and his hand rested on my breast.

He stopped and stared at me. “That’s a strange question, but yes, some of them are water based. Why?”

“Bear with me. I have an idea.”

He twisted his head sideways. “Okay… but if it has anything to do with Christmas…”

I shook my head. “Not really. I want you to paint me.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“Can I paint you after we… I mean, I thought you wanted…”

“I do, but I want to do it with those water-based paints.”

He smirked. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Not at all. I don’t kid when it comes to sex.”

“I’m liking you more and more.”

He made a move to stand, but I stopped him. “One condition. No black or gray or anything even remotely drab. It has to be done with all bright, vibrant colors. Preferably festive colors. Colors that spell out joy and happiness. Take it or leave it.”

“If I leave it, will we still have sex?”

“No.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

I reached between us and ran my hand over his hard cock. “I believe that’s your bargain, not mine.”

He leaned back, legs straddling me, knees bent, and slipped off his shirt. “You’ll have to paint me as well.”

“Love to,” I told him, running my hands over his beautiful, ripped chest. His hard body sent waves of heat down to my core.

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