Painting Elise

Painting Elise

By: Bikerider



Elise walked into my art gallery on a wet Saturday night. Blue eyeliner streaked her cheeks, her green eyes flashed and sparkled below dripping wet hair the color of polished cherry-wood, and her full, red lips, just begging to be kissed, made her look like a watercolor that had been left out in the rain. She smiled—I fell in love.

I quickly learned that Elise wasn't just getting out of the rain; she had a discerning eye for art.

"Are you a collector?" I asked.

"No, I'm a model." She tilted her head and asked. "Do you ever paint nudes?"

She modeled for me that night in the studio behind the gallery. My heart skipped a beat when I saw her reclined on the navy blue settee, one leg outstretched on the cushions, the other bent at the knee. The contrast of her creamy, smooth skin against the shimmering blue of the soft fabric was stunning. She parted her long legs slightly, revealing a hint of the dark stain of hair covering her womanhood. Her small breasts, topped with nipples like ripe, red, strawberries, rose high on her chest. But it was the radiance of her smile that I knew I would never capture in paint. I would make many attempts, and I would fail every time.

Afterwards I asked her. "Do you dream in color?"

"I don't think so." Her eyes locked onto mine. "Do you?"

"Yes, I do," I said. "And that's how I will keep you with me forever."

The radiant smile that lit her face made another appearance.



It was during the third sitting, a week later, that we made love for the first time. I stood at the blank canvas as Elise untied her robe and let it fall to the floor where it became a shimmering puddle of silk around her feet. She settled into the rich blue of the settee and her smile turned playful, suggestive.

"Are you going to paint me tonight, Peter?" she asked with a wink.

"Yes, of course." My eyes absorbed her beauty.

"From over there?" She raised her hand and crooked a finger at me. "Come here."

"Elise..."

"But dip the brush into the red paint first."

My eyes lingered on her for a moment before I dared to move. But when her smile didn't fade I dipped the brush into the thick, oily paint, crossed the room, and stood in front of her. A dollop of shiny red paint fell from the brush and splattered on her taut stomach. Our eyes followed the crimson smudge as it slid into the coarse hair between her thighs.

She raised her eyes to mine. "That's a good beginning, Peter." She reached up and grasped my trembling hand and brought the glistening bristles of the brush to her left breast. Together we made a circle of red around her erect nipple, and then she guided the brush to her right breast and did the same.

"I've wanted you to paint me since the first night I saw you." She let go of my hand and lay back into the soft cushion. "Paint me, Peter." She waited.



Her breathing caught each time the brush made a smooth, crimson line on her pale flesh. Her moans fanned the flames of my desire as I replaced the bristles with my tongue and traced wet lines behind her knees, along her thighs, and then deep into her moist opening.

Struggling out of my clothes, I joined Elise on the settee. I reveled in the sounds of pleasure escaping from her full lips as I plunged into her quickly. I withdrew almost completely and felt her hands press against my hips.

"Gently, Peter," she whispered. "And slowly¬¬—ever so slowly." Her words guided me as I gently lowered myself into her—slowly this time. An intense feeling of pleasure shuddered through my spine as her warm, wet petals enveloped me. And then, with Elise guiding me, I made love to a woman for the first time in my life. She repaid my efforts with moans of pleasure. As our passion increased she tightened around me, grasping me, pulling my shaft deeper into the vortex of her sexuality until I felt her quivering release wash over me. Afterward, as I held her to me and felt her breath caress my chest, I fell in love all over again.

Over time our lovemaking became a masterpiece of passion and love, and each time my body joined with hers, a kaleidoscope of color exploded inside my soul. I painted her many times, but I was never able to capture her radiant smile.

And then suddenly she was gone.

Witnesses said it was an accident. Rain and fog prevented the car's driver from seeing Elise as she crossed the rain-slicked road.



All of my time is now taken up with painting my dreams of Elise. I dream in the color of her eyes, her hair, and the radiance of her smile. Although I'm unable to capture her essence, I continue to try.

Today I painted Elise walking along the wet sidewalk, but instead of crossing the road, she continues walking home.

Home to me.



Word Count 866



1st Place winner, The Weekly Quickie round 7.